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RUNAWAY RENEGADE | EPISODE 1: MELORA GHIRGA

California, 2025. Melora Ghirga is bailed out of police detainment after disobeying her father.

July 27 2025, Sacramento, California

8PM, the city was bustling with lights left and right. Some parts jammed with vehicles of all kinds, some parts clear. Among the lineup of buildings was a small police station which connected to a series of small holding cells.

Two guards walked the hallway, one of them holding a cup of coffee, the other holding out a notebook, reading it out.

“17..? This one’s pretty young.” Guard A commented.

“Well, you know how it is today, juveniles come in and out all the time. Last week we had a 15 year old!.” His partner replied.

“I was there when she landed here, my god was she crying for a good hour.” Guard B continued.

“Of course she would cry, she’s 17!”

“Yeah, after spray painting a hate symbol on a wall. Ayayayai....” he sighed.

The two guards arrived by the door which led to the jail.

“Got the keys?”

Guard A brought out a pair of keys and jingled it in front of his partner, nodding in response.

“DETAINEE 5C! YOU HAVE BEEN BAILED, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS OUTSIDE OF YOUR CELL!” Guard B announced the minute he opened the door.

Followed by a period of silence, the guard groaned and walked over to 5C’s cell, the other few detainees watched as the guard walked along, the jingle jangle of the keys echoing through the corridor.

He peeked inside the cell, a black haired girl of petite stature resting by the wall on her bed.

“5C, you’re out.”

“Hah?” The girl turned to him, her purple eyes glimmering amidst the darkness.

“You’ve been bailed, please put your hands in front..” The guard tells her.

“No thanks.” She looked back and began picking her nails, a look of boredom plastered on her face.

“5C!”

“I have a name, ya know?” 5C responded, not even caring enough to look at the guard again.

“You literally refused arrest earlier and now what? You’re refusing to get bailed out? MAKE UP YOUR MIND!”

“Okay. First it will depend on how you’ll answer this question I’ll be asking you. Think of it like an RPG game, would ya pal?” The girl talked back, pointing at him.

The 17-year-old girl had a captivating appearance with wild black wavy hair, bold purple eyes, and a slightly upturned nose.

“What is the question.” The guard rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to deal with this, he could’ve been on his way back home with some Mcdonalds drive thru with him but no! He had to deal with some stubborn kid who got arrested.

“WHO bailed me out?”

“Your father.”

“Fuck! " she muttered under her breath, her palm going through her wild hair.

"Well I made up my mind! I’m staying here.” She shrugged her hands and continued picking her nails.

“GET OUT OF THE CELL!”

“MAKE ME.” she hisses.

Then she sighs, continuing her conversation with the guards.

“Uhm, maybe you can try being nicer to her..?” The guard’s partner chimed into the conversation.

“Fine.” He groaned, pinching the space between his eyebrows.

“This kid..” he muttered under his lips.

“WHY do you NOT want to get bailed out?” The guard clenched his teeth.

“I am about to get the BIGGEST verbal beating of my life I don’t think you’d wanna be in my shoes right now.”

“Well, that’s expected! Considering the fact that YOU drew up a hate sign in front of PUBLIC PROPERTY!”

“For the enth time, I DIDN’T DO IT!” The girl got up and ran to the front of the cell, clutching the bar with her hand.

“I WAS FRAMED! DIDN’T YOU SEE THE STUPID EYEBROWLESS KID BRIBE YOUR SO CALLED “WITNESS” FROM EARLIER..!?? I WAS FRAMED! I’M TELLING Y-” the girl angrily stated, both hands holding onto the bars.

And before she knew it…her hands were already cuffed.

“AH."

"Okay... you win." the teenager realized that the guards had taken her angry rant as the perfect timing to finally get her out. Guided out of the cell, she walked the corridor with both guards by her side. She could feel the eyes of the other detainees on her, wishing they were in her place, while she wished to be in theirs.

Eventually, she was escorted to a small office containing a table, chairs, and a TV, with her bail officer waiting.

"You must be Melora. You may take a seat," the officer greeted her.

“Sir?” Melora sat down and glanced at her bail officer, then at the piles of paperwork surrounding him.

“Oh, this? Don’t mind them. The important thing is that this entire situation gets sorted out.” The officer noticed Melora’s visible overwhelm from his tower of papers.

“Where do I start… oh yeah. Melora, I am your bail officer. I was called in by your parents to sort out your bail!” The friendly officer extended his hand, and Melora shook it.

“So…?” Melora leaned on her arm.

“I just need you to sign some paperwork, and don’t worry, it’s not going to be like this mountain I have on my right!”

“After signing, you are free to head out, unless you have any questions you wish to ask me.” The officer handed Melora a pen and three pages of paperwork. Melora stared blankly at the paper.

“Something bothering you?”

“Mhm…”

“Feel free to chat with me as you sign away. Don’t worry, all of this will be confidential.” The officer assured her.

“Look, sir… uh, is my dad…”

Melora sighed before continuing.

“How was he?” she fiddles with her thumbs.

“Worried! In most of the cases I work on, it’s usually the mother who looks like she’s on the verge of fainting. But your father was straight up panicking while I talked to him earlier! His words were racing, furrowed brows, his eyes looked like he just went to hell and back."

“Shit…!” Melora’s eyes widened in fear, her voice breaking.

“Hm?”

“Sir, you do not KNOW what I’m going to experience in the next five minutes. I have been DREADING this moment for months.”

“I mean, reprimanding is a normal thing all teenagers experience at one point…”

“That man has been so overbearing for a while. He lectures me on ALMOST a daily basis, warning me on what to do and what not to do as if he didn’t talk about the same warnings from the day before, and the day before that! And look at me, I ignored those warnings! I’M GONNA GET MY ASS VERBALLY BEAT! I’ve got no idea how I’m gonna continue life normally after this incident…” Melora buried her face in her arms on the table, still whining.

“Melora, you do know there are consequences, right? This one is from deliberately disobeying your father. Look, I’ve met him, and he’s an all-around nice guy… he just wants the best for you…”

“Does he? I’m pretty much almost 18, and this man still treats me like a child. What is he going to think? That I’m going to take up drugs? Get high? Get pregnant? I’ll never go that low, come on!”

“Technically… you ARE his child.”

“Pshaw…” Melora continued signing the papers.

After a while…

“Mhm…” Melora mumbled. She clicked off the pen and placed it down after finishing the three pages.

“You’re all good! There’s a guard waiting to escort you outside.”

Melora sat there, quiet.

“Hey, it’s best to face that big lecture now and get it over with. The more time you stress over it, the worse you’ll feel. Soon enough, you’ll be waking up nauseous tomorrow morning!”

Melora looked at him and sighed as she rolled her eyes. She slowly got up, and the guard escorting her went by her side.

“Oh, and one more thing,” the bail officer called as Melora was getting ready to leave.

“Hm?”

“Give your family my regards, Melora Ghirga.”

The guard led her outside the police station.

“Take care.” The guard patted her back before heading back inside.

In front of Melora stood a black-haired man with some gray strands, dressed in a purple jacket, yellow shirt, and an orange scarf. Despite being 42 years old, he looked like he was in his early thirties, the kind of youthful appearance that made dermatologists hate him. He also sported the same purple eyes that stared back at him.

“Dad.”

Melora’s father in silence, opened the car door. Amidst the rain, his daughter stared at him with dread and worry before steadily pacing into the backseat of the car.

Melora’s father silently opened the car door. Rain fell around them as his daughter stared at him with a mix of dread and worry before sliding into the backseat. She settled herself and closed the door, enveloping the car in silence. Glancing at the front mirror, Melora saw her father's purple eyes staring ahead, no words or sighs escaping his lips.

As the engine began humming, the quiet journey home began, and Melora felt rooted in place. Her father sat just in front of her, a brewing storm she anticipated to unfold within the next thirty minutes. Anxious, she awaited his first words, her nerves so taut she could hardly breathe.

Ten minutes passed.

“Melora.”

She looked up to meet her father's gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Why did you do that?” His voice, eerily calm, cut through the silence.

Her lips trembled, struggling to form a response.

“I’m n—”

She couldn’t finish.

“Despite everything I taught you? I’m genuinely curious, why?”

Silence met Narancia's inquiry. He sighed softly and continued.

“You were just arrested… and recently, I learned you were hanging out with some delinquents from school…”

“Tch.” Melora regained some composure and met her father's eyes in the rearview mirror.

Here’s an improved version of the dialogue:

“Yeah, I did, Dad,” Melora shot him an annoyed glare.

“You know how many times I’ve advised against hanging with groups like th—”

“Many, more than I can count, Dad,” she cut him off irreverently.

“Gee, I wonder how much saliva you’ve wasted on ‘advising me’,” Melora remarked sarcastically.

“I wouldn’t say ‘wasted.’ I was just trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“I see your point, but haven’t you done it excessively?”

“Melora…” his tone grew more assertive.

“You know what, Dad? Maybe if you stopped lecturing me left and right and stopped sticking your nose into my business every ten seconds, we wouldn’t be having this talk now, yeah? Yeah.”

“We are having this talk because you were ARRESTED. ARRESTED! At the age of only 17! You could’ve spent all that time participating in delinquency and ignoring my advice being productive!” He snapped back, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Your advice has become background noise at this point! It’s THAT repetitive! I’ve been itching to tell you this for some time, and I think this is the perfect time to say it; dear god, GO CHANGE THE RADIO STATION FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”

“MELORA!” Narancia angrily reprimanded her. His lips were curled, his brows furrowed, and his voice overpowered the sound of the rain outside.

“Yeah! I said it, I SAID IT!” Melora exclaimed, raising her hands.

“OH NOOOO, MY DAUGHTER GAVE ME CRITICISM! SO SCARY!” She mocked, adding jazz hands for effect.

“NEVER speak to me that way, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?”

“Well, aren’t you speaking to me that way?” Melora tried to maintain composure, but her voice started to crack, holding back tears.

“You want a calm opinion? I’ll give you one! First, your advice is repetitive and annoying. And second, and most importantly… answer this question for me first.”

“How old am I?” Melora asked, but her father remained silent.

“Pshaw…” she groaned.

“17. You are 17 years old, honey,” Narancia pinched the space between his eyebrows.

“I’m 17… now why am I stating this? Oh yes, I’m almost an adult, THAT’S WHAT!”

“You’re still a minor, Melora.”

“I just got a year on being 18! Maybe you should start treating me like an adult? As practice?”

“Melora, first off… HOW am I treating you like a child?” Narancia took a deep breath and raised his right hand from the wheel, making an agile pointing motion with his palm.

“You keep advising me as if I’ll forget it every single time. Going out alone? Time for a lecture! What, you think I’m going to go home drugged up? I have basic common sense. Everyone knows not to accept a sketchy drug from a stranger! It’s IRRITATING.”

“Going out alone, you might get drunk, you might vape, and you might get ARRESTED! Melora… tell me… what EXACTLY happened to you tonight?” Narancia sternly asked.

“Pfshh…”

“Melora, I…”

Narancia let out an exasperated sigh.

“Look, I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“If that’s the case, I’m not fond of the approach you’re taking.”

“I AM JUST TRYING TO KEEP YOU SAFE, DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND!? THE FACT THAT YOU SIMPLY SHRUG OFF YOUR ARREST ALARMS ME! Melora, your mother and I raised you with good values, what triggered this behavior? Care to explain?”

“Fine, you want my full, raw statement? Here it is!

"Dad, I can’t wait to turn 18. The moment I do, I’m packing up. I can’t STAND your daily lectures and constant checking on me, it’s suffocating. It’s like having surveillance installed around me. What about when you called me AT 1 AM during a sleepover? Or when you came to school dressed as a janitor during my freshman dance? In my opinion… I think you can’t let go of me, hm?”

“I’m just trying to make sure you stay out of trouble! Melora, I want you to live a worry-free life; I’m just trying to teach you how.”

“Once again, like a broken record. I DON’T HATE YOUR APPROACH!”

“DO I HAVE A CHOICE?!” The tired father replied, the argument reaching a stalemate.

“YES! Maybe you could start…

Melora’s heart raced; it felt like she and her father were in a confined space, the pressure building. She couldn’t hear the rain or the car anymore. It was as if she'd taken in a lungful of air and was finally ready to release it all, to lift the weight crushing her throat.

"…caring less."

"I don’t need you in a year anyway."

"You really do want to get away from me that badly, don’t you?" Narancia’s voice trembled in response, as if a piece of tape were in charge of holding his crumbling emotions and vocal chords apart.

In Narancia’s eyes, there was a flicker of hurt, a glimmer of shattered dreams. The loving father looked at his troubled teenage daughter, his heart laid bare and vulnerable. It was as if the foundation of their bond, once so strong, had suddenly crumbled, leaving him in a state of disbelief and profound grief.

A minute or two later, they finally arrived home.

“Get out of the car.”

Melora still sat there, the tension that filled the inside of the car was still palpable.

“Please, Melora. Get out.” Narancia raised his voice, gripping the steering wheel tightly, refusing to look in any other direction but the front.

Melora scooted over to the door and exited the car, but before she could close the door, she briefly peeked in.

“Forgot to say earlier… I was framed.”

Narancia's grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly as Melora's words hung heavy in the air. Memories of his own past flooded back, memories of being framed and ostracized by his peers as a teenager. He remembered the frustration, the anger, the feeling of abandonment. He knew it all too well, the pain of being misunderstood and unfairly judged echoed in his heart as he looked at his daughter through the car window.

His expression softened, the flicker of hurt in his eyes having empathy added onto it. The realization that she was facing a situation similar to what he had experienced as a boy filled him with a deep sense of protectiveness.

"I understand, Melora. I understand." Narancia muttered under his breath, his voice creaky as he watched his daughter enter the house amidst the rainy night without an umbrella.

After entering the house, Melora rushed upstairs to her room, not even paying attention to her younger brother, who was staring at her from the sofa.

As Melora sat on her bed, tears streaming down her face, she partially relieved she vented out her frustration towards her father. Yet, the events of the past 24 hours weighed heavily on her mind. Could she ever return to normal after this? The question echoed in her thoughts as she tried to make sense of everything.

Hours later, after changing into comfortable lounge clothes and reading a novel, Melora was startled by a knock on her door.

“Come in.”

No response.

Curious, Melora approached the door and opened it, finding nothing but a small gift box on the floor. It was wrapped in paper with an intricate ladybug pattern and a somewhat aged appearance. She cautiously picked it up and brought it into her room, wondering who could have left it there.

Opening the box revealed a tiny golden shard that sported an pattern. As she examined it, the shard slipped from her palm, cutting her left palm.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Melora screeched at the top of her lungs upon being gashed.

Panicked and trembling, Melora rushed to the restroom for first aid. However, upon reaching the mirror cabinet, she noticed something strange. The gash on her hand, which had been bleeding moments ago, was now completely healed.

“I swear that thing was gushing out like crazy just ten seconds ago..?” Melora murmured to herself in confusion.

Though her hand appeared healed, she still applied iodine and a bandage. As she searched for the shard on her bedroom floor, Melora found it after a few minutes and placed it back in the box.

“Man, it’s too late to deal with this bullshit… it’s healed anyway."”

Exhausted and bewildered, Melora lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping tomorrow would bring clarity and a return to normalcy. Eventually, sleep claimed her, and she drifted into slumber, leaving behind the mysteries of the mysterious shard.

Melora Ghirga, born on January 19, 2008, born to Narancia Ghirga and Marah Ghirga, an Italian father and Filipino mother. Shortly after her birth, her family moved to Sacramento, California for reasons unknown. Despite high grades and her excellence in English class, Melora's school record bore the weight of 15 misdeeds, preventing her from participating in any interstate academic competitions. Yet, beneath her mischievous facade, Melora had a playful and outgoing demeanor, even if she was met with trips to the principal's office.

"According to your records, Ghirga, you've racked up 7 infractions this school year."

"Wow… that's…"

"I thought there'd be more."

13 year old Melora couldn't help but smirk at the revelation.

Growing up in a relatively ordinary household with her mother working as a lawyer and her father as a stay at home dad, Melora seemed to have a stable foundation. However, her inner longing for acceptance from her peers, her people pleasing tendencies led her down a different path. Despite her father's warnings and the values instilled in her, at the age of 17, Melora found herself drawn to "Blitzkrieg," a group of school delinquents offering the sense of belonging she craved.

Finally feeling accepted, Melora embarked on a journey of impulsivity and delinquency, indulging in minor infractions around town while steering clear of serious illegal activities.

"Here are the worms," Melora handed over four packs of gummy worms to her friends.

"Where'd you get them?"

"Just from the convenience store nearby. I can grab more if you want."

"No, no, it's fine!"

Melora and her friends gathered in the alleyway across from the public library, relishing in their pilfered treats.

"Hey, Melora, you were quick with those worms. Can you swing by the craft store and grab some spray paint?"

The troupe's leader, Maddy, turned to Melora.

"Why?" Melora inquired.

"I need to fix a huge rip in the wallpaper that me and my sister accidentally scratched out before my mom returns from her business trip. Make it cream-colored. She'll flip if she finds out."

Melora hesitated, aware of the risks but unable to refuse Maddy's request.

"Will do!" Melora rushed out of the alleyway and darted towards the craft store three streets away. The store's bell jingled as she burst in, scanning the shelves for a small can of cream-colored spray paint. Spotting it, she quickly grabbed it and discreetly tucked it into her boots.

"This'll do," she murmured to herself, a mix of nerves and determination propelling her forward.

Emerging from the store, Melora sprinted back to the alleyway where her friends awaited.

"Aight, here's the pa-"

Silence greeted her, punctuated by the unsettling sight of a hate symbol scrawled across the library wall. Melora's heart raced as panic set in, her mind racing through the implications of the illegal act.

"Guys?" Her voice trembled, the weight of the situation sinking in.

“GUYS, THIS IS ILLEGAL!” Melora's words echoed in the empty alleyway, her fear palpable.

“Fuck, we’re all doomed. HOW THE HELL DO I CLEAN THIS UP??”

Desperation crept into her tone as she stared at the symbol, her mind racing for a solution. In a split second decision, Melora turned and fled the scene, her heart heavy with fear and worry.

The following day, Melora emerged from a 7-11, a bag of snacks in hand, unaware of the storm about to engulf her.

"FREEZE!" The sudden shout tore through the air, shattering the calm of the mundane afternoon. Melora's heart leaped into her throat as she turned to face the source of the command, only to find herself pinned against a nearby wall by a cop.

“H-HEY! LET ME GO!” Melora's voice quivered with a mix of fear and defiance, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“You’re the little brat that vandalized LGU property… aren’t you…” The cop's accusation cut through the air like a knife, his tone laced with disdain.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” Melora protested, her voice in a panic.

The cop's grip tightened, his fingers digging into Melora's arm as his accusations rang in her ears.

"GYAH!" Melora grunted.

“SHUT IT, BRAT! WE HAVE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE, YOUNG LADY!” His voice boomed.

“HUH?!” Melora's voice cracked, her mind racing to comprehend the severity of the situation unfolding before her.

At the police station, Melora sat at an interview table, flanked by two cops and a witness.

“I SAW HER SPRAY THE LIBRARY!” The witness pointed at the girl.

“THAT WASN’T ME!” Melora stood up, pointing back at the witness, her voice echoing of both anger and frustration. "YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG! I SWEAR!"

The tension in the room was palpable as Melora denied the accusations.

“SHE WAS HOLDING A CAN OF PAINT AND DRAWING A DREADED SYMBOL ON IT!” the witness talked back, her voice boomed across the room.

“HOW ARE YOU SURE IT WAS ME?? HUH?? HOW???” Melora's voice wavered, desperation creeping into her tone as she struggled to make sense of the damning evidence against her.

One of the cops swiftly turned on the projector, casting an image of Melora holding a can of spray paint in front of the vandalized wall. The image was damning, a snapshot of a moment that spelled trouble for Melora. It must have been taken by someone when she came to the scene, holding the spray paint her friends requested her to pick up, the angle looking like she committed the crime.

“I JUST GOT THE SPRAY PAINT FROM THE CRAFT STORE RECENTLY, I DIDN’T USE THAT TO SPRAY THAT STUPID SYMBOL, I SWEAR!” Melora's protest fell on deaf ears, her words drowned out by the weight of the evidence stacked against her.

“LYING WON’T GET YOU OFF THE HOOK, KID!” One of the guards pointed an accusatory finger at Melora, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth bared in frustration.

“WHY YOU-” Melora's frustration boiled over, her resolve crumbling as she prepared to lash out in anger.

But before she could act, the police swiftly intervened, restraining her and handcuffing her wrists and dragging her away. Melora's resistance was futile, her legs kicking out in a desperate attempt to break free. Akin to that of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“SHUT YOUR YAP!” The sharp command cut through the chaos, one of the officers delivering a swift reprimand as Melora continued to plead her innocence. The cop then proceeded to smack her in the head.

“WAIT NO, SHE’S JUST A KID!” The other cop's voice interjected.

“WELL, SHE’S A DIFFICULT ONE!”

Cut to Melora in her custody suite. She stood with her back against the cold, unforgiving wall, gazing at the small window that offered a glimpse of the outside world. Anger simmered beneath the surface, visible in the clench of her jaw and the furrow of her brow.

Then, the witness walked out, exchanging pleasantries and shaking hands with someone outside. Melora's eyes narrowed as she focused on the figure, her heart sinking as she realized it was Maddy. The sight sent shockwaves of realization through her.

“You…” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and betrayal.

Melora watched in stunned silence as Maddy and the witness exchanged something, a transaction that spoke volumes. Three twenty-dollar bills being handed over. And it only meant one thing.

She was framed.

Her breaths grew labored, her chest tightening with each inhale. Gripping the bars of her cell, Melora's knuckles turned white as she struggled to process the enormity of the betrayal.

“No… NO… this can’t…” Her voice cracked, disbelief choking her words.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she tried to make sense of the betrayal unfolding before her.

“MAAAADDYYYYYYYYY!!” Her scream echoed through the empty cell, a primal cry of anguish and anger.

Melora's fists pounded against the unforgiving concrete wall, the sound echoing through the empty cell like a desperate plea for release. Each strike was fueled by a mixture of anger, betrayal, and a profound sense of injustice. Her knuckles stung with each impact, a physical manifestation of the turmoil raging within her.

“You…” Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper amidst the chaos of her emotions.

She fell on her knees.

"Shit…"

Exhaustion washed over her, both physically and emotionally spent from the relentless onslaught of feelings. Her cries, once fierce and defiant, now melted into sobs. Tears streaming down her cheeks.

Melora's body trembled uncontrollably as she curled into a fetal position, her arms wrapping tightly around herself in a feeble attempt to find solace and comfort.

Alone and betrayed, Melora's vulnerability was laid bare in the stark emptiness of her surroundings. It was a moment of despair, a pivotal point where the weight of betrayal bore down on her with such force.

Melora Ghirga knew the feeling of betrayal, but she didn't know if she could forgive like she's always did.

"Dad's gonna kill me."

July 29, 2025

Two days later, Melora was sent out by her mother to run a few errands at the mall. Despite her reluctance, her mother insisted it would be a good way to start anew and get a breath of fresh air after everything that had happened. Melora needed cash, so she went to the mall bank and lined up for the ATM.

"I just need to get Zephyr’s DVD player fixed... okay..."

She glanced at her tickler notebook and ticked off the tasks she had already completed.

While she was checking her tickler, a man at the counter started yelling.

“EVERYONE DOWN!”

Melora’s eyes shot up to the commotion. A man in a mask was holding a woman at gunpoint. Everyone else in the bank hurriedly squatted down, and Melora joined them. She was trembling, sweat starting to pour down her face. Great, I just got out of one sticky situation only to find myself in another? Fear and irritation battled within her as she looked down, hands on top of her head, lips quivering and eyes wide open.

At the front, the robber was urging a bank employee to empty their cashiers.

“Empty it all, EVEN THE CHARITY TIN!”

“Y-yes sir… of course…” The teller trembled, paralyzed with fear.

Melora closed her eyes, praying for everyone to get out of this ordeal alive, even though she wasn’t particularly religious. As she crouched there, a slit formed on her shoulder, glowing pink like a ticket dispenser.

A glowing strip of pink double-sided tape-like adhesive emerged from the slit. Opening her eyes, Melora noticed the material coming out of her arm and watched silently in fear as it crept through the crowd, positioning itself behind the robber. The tape coiled around the robber, causing him to lose his balance and trip. It wrapped around him even more tightly, like a mummy, freeing the hostage and causing the gun to drop to the floor.

Melora's breath grew heavier as she watched the commotion. Everyone stood up, and security arrived to arrest the robber. Being the only person still on the ground, one of the security personnel approached Melora.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” He reached out his hand.

Breathing heavily, Melora looked at him and got up on her own, her legs shaking slightly. She glanced around the bank, taking in the scattered money, the frightened faces, and the subdued robber. Her eyes widened as she noticed the glowing pink tape still dispensing from her shoulder. Panic surged through her, and she bolted out of the bank without another word.

Running through the mall, Melora weaved through the crowd, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She glanced down at her scarred hand, where the tape continued to flow. The sight of the tape spilling out relentlessly made her heart race even faster.

“SHIT!” she hissed under her breath, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what was happening.

She pushed past a group of shoppers, their confused faces blurring as she sprinted toward the mall exit. Her thoughts were a chaotic jumble—how was this happening? Why was this happening? The questions pounded in her head, but she had no time to find answers. The tape was growing longer, trailing behind her like a surreal, neon ribbon.

As she burst through the main mall entrance and into the parking lot, Melora's fear turned to frustration. She yanked at the tape with her free hand, trying desperately to tear it away,

"DAMN IT! GOD!" Melora groaned out of effort.

but it only seemed to multiply, wrapping around her fingers and wrists like a living entity. The harder she pulled, the more it grew, cascading from her shoulder and creating a bizarre, glowing tail.

“GET OFF, GET OFF, GET OFF!”

"GYAAAAAAAAAAH!"

she screeched. She stumbled to a halt near a row of parked cars, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. With a surge of determination, she spotted a nearby trash can and dashed toward it, hoping to use the edge to cut the tape.

But as she pressed the tape against the sharp rim of the trash can, it simply slipped over the surface, refusing to break. Melora let out a cry of frustration and kicked the can, sending it clattering to the ground. People in the parking lot turned to stare, but she ignored them, too focused on her predicament to care about their curious glances.

She glanced around wildly, searching for anything that might help. Her eyes landed on a metal signpost at the edge of the lot, its sharp edge gleaming in the sunlight. She sprinted over to it, Desperation fueled her as she angled her shoulder toward the post, hoping to cut the tape.

As she pressed the tape against the sharp edge, she felt a brief resistance before it slid off, unscathed. The tape continued to spill from her shoulder, mocking her efforts. Melora let out a scream of frustration and sank to her knees, her fingers clawing at the ground.

"FUCK!"

“WHAT THE HELL!?” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation. She was losing control, and the fear that had been simmering beneath the surface threatened to overwhelm her.

She forced herself to stand, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She needed to get home, to figure out what was happening away from prying eyes. Melora hurried to her bike, which was parked near the entrance. She hopped on, her movements frantic, and pedaled away from the mall as fast as she could. The tape streamed behind her, fluttering in the wind like a bizarre flag.

As she rode through the streets, the cool air helped clear her mind a little. She glanced back at the tape, noticing how it seemed to fade from visibility the farther she got from the mall. The realization hit her that no one had seemed to notice the tape inside the bank. It was as if it existed only for her, a personal nightmare.

“Why can’t people see it? I remember everyone glancing at me like I was an idiot but, it felt like I was the only one who saw the scotch tape. Like it revolved around me somehow..” she thought to herself, a chill running down her spine. The tape continued to flow, but its glow was dimming, blending into the background as she neared her neighborhood.

By the time she reached home, the tape had disappeared completely, leaving only the scar on her shoulder as evidence of the bizarre incident. She dismounted her bike and stood in front of her house, her heart still racing. She needed answers, but first, she had to calm down and figure out what to do next.

Entering the house, Melora's father noticed her disheveled state and the cut on her knee from the fall.

“Melora, are you okay? Your knee—”

“Don’t even,” she interrupted, her voice strained. She couldn't deal with questions right now. She needed to process what the actual hell had just happened.

Melora went upstairs to her room, she sat down at her desk, staring at the gift box containing the mysterious shard. She didn’t dare pick it up yet.

“Where did you even come from… what the hell even is this thing?” she whispered, her fingers trembling as she traced the edges of the box. She was determined to find out, but for now, she needed to gather her thoughts.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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