"Your room is on the sixth floor number 608," says the lady behind the receptionist desk.
"Thanks," I murmur and take the elevator.
It has been a few hours since I arrive at Chicago and it has been days since that incident. No, keep yourself focus, Tris, I think to myself and continue my walk to my room. I stand in front of my wooden door with the number 608 stuck on the door in golden plate.
I swing the door open and flop myself on the queen sized bed. The bellboy already delivers my suitcases into the room, so I just need to unpack them all in my new house. House, that sounds strange. I don't have it anymore.
It is really dark when I wake up at who-knows-what-time. I don't realize the curtain is open. Is it opened since I enter? My suspicious mind, and me habits die-hard.
I begrudgingly walk out of the cold, comfortable bed towards the bathroom when something, or someone, surprises me. Someone is sitting on the chair beside the table. It is very dark so I don't know who it is.
I stand still and narrow my eyes at the shadow, trying to make out some features but it totally fail.
"Who are you?" I fold my arms.
Even if I can't see it, it is a guy and he is staring at me. He finally stands up and walks towards me. I automatically reach to the back of my belt but of course, it's empty.
"No need to be fiery, Agent Six," he says without any expression.
He knows my pseudonym. Who is he? No doubt he is dangerous if he knows my secretive nickname. Or he is an agent sent to me, a small voice says in my head.
"What do you want?" I ask fiercely.
"I'm not here to harm you," he starts. "Max, the leader, sends me take you back to the headquarter," he explains.
"What?" I snort.
What does Max wants? He has signed my resignation letter and now he wants me back? He knows why I resign!
"It is useless to come, I won't join them anymore. I have given him my resignation letter," I wave my hand.
"An agent never step back from his mission," he says as-a-matter-of-fact.
"Right, I forget, I haven't been an agent for weeks," I roll my eyes.
He chuckles, which really surprises me.
"You don't need to answer now, I will wait for you until you want to come. It's not like you have a choice," he then shrugs and sits back down.
"Fine, suit yourself," I say and grab my clothes before heading into the bathroom and making sure the door is tightly locked.
I keep thinking about it when I'm in the shower. I have resigned, I have started a new life, and I wanted to forget the past. What is it with Max? After a good thirty minutes of shower plus thinking, I throw on a fitting black t-shirt and black skinny jeans and head out.
"You take so long in the shower, are becoming a real girl after quitting?" the husky voice says.
"Still here?" I ask flatly and sit crossed-legs in front of my suitcases and start to unpack them.
"Yes, and currently waiting for you to agree," he replies.
"Everyone knows that won't happen," I say while throwing all my clothes on the bed. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I glance at him. "Shouldn't you be in your room? I believe Max must have given you a room here since he must have known that it won't be that easy to convince me," I continue without sparing a glance at him.
"For an ex agent, you are good," he comments.
"Thanks," I say sarcastically.
The rest of the hours pass in silence, as if, he isn't even there. After hanging all my clothes in the very wide wardrobe and put some of them in the drawers, I start unpacking the boxes.
Then, I hear shuffling. He is now standing up and is walking towards me.
"Giving up now?" I ask without stopping what I'm doing.
"Everyone knows that won't happen," he quotes my words. "It's getting late, I am going back to my room. I will see you tomorrow," he says while exiting the room.
"Yes, see you tomorrow," I roll my eyes and continue packing after the door clicks.
I take out all my stuff from the boxes when I stop at one of the boxes. It's a photo frame: a picture of my dad, mom, bigger brother, and me. We are all happy there and now it's ruined. Because of me! I lost my interest in unpacking the boxes and leave my things scattered on the carpet.
I sit on the bed under the cover and grab my novel from my bag on the bedside table. Divergent, that's the title. The story's almost the same with my life; accept it happens in real life, my life, and that I don't have a happy ending like the main character in the book or that I don't have someone to care for me.
It's pathetic.
No.
I'm pathetic.