Molly would sometimes try to peek through the glass wall and see Shane working out or writing something in the living room. Sometimes Shane would come in just to check up on Molly…Shane would come into the room and find Molly asleep with the earphones still on and she would carefully take off the earphones and turn off the ipod and keep it on the nightstand or sometimes she would take the ipod with her and return it in the morning after charging it…she has never spoken to her once. SHe only answered with a nod or shook her head to any question that Molly asked. Molly realized that maybe Shane is not much of a talker. 

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 Molly’s POV:

 I was listening to my ipod as usual when I heard the usual creaking noise of the sliding door. I quickly closed my eyes to pretend that i was sleeping. But I could see Shane walk into the room with the same red tray of food in her hand. As Shane was putting the food down on the nightstand…i noticed that a white wife beater which pretty much was soaked in blood was wrapped around her right palm. 

 She probably got hurt in a fight or something…..before I could think anymore…I opened my eyes and grabbed her hand by the wrist. 

 She looked at me…with those bright green eyes, fringes of her choppy brown hair falling over her forehead partially covering her green orbs. She looks like a deer caught in the headlight of a car. I cannot help but think how cute she is…..

 "Sit down" I say to her…and it comes out more like an order than a request. thankfully she obliges without question. 

 " I …uh….I am fine" She manages to say at last….she looks down at her shoes nervously and stutters trying to convey that apparently she’s fine. 

 "Let me see your hand"….I say. Its really bad there is a lot of blood loss. I slowly unwrap the torn wife beater that was covering her hand…and use some of the left over rolls of gauge that was left from my bandage. I seems like someone just mercilessly sliced her palm. My eyes swell up with tears….I don’t know why! ‘Be practical Molly….’ I say to myself…I don’t even know why I am bandaging the hand of the assassin who basically kidnapped me. I don’t understand…why I am on the verge of tears because some assassin got her hand sliced probably during another attempt to kill some innocent life. Throughout my life I have been told that I am really practical minded…but I don’t know what’s happening to my brain lately.