

Replay: Amnesia

Book 1

By K. Weikel

Replay: Amnesia

K. Weikel

Published by K. Weikel at Smashwords

Copyright © 2018 by K. Weikel

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people, if you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Other books by K. Weikel

The One-Hundred Series

The One-Hundred

Untouched Water (Alternate Version)

Tamir (A Prequel)

Damian's Deeds

Dametria (A Short Story)

The One

The Deal (A Novella)

Human

The Unnamed Duology

The Unnamed

The Elite

The Maskless Trilogy

Hiding Behind A Mask

Hiding Behind A Name

Hiding Behind A Face

The Trapped Trilogy

Trapped

Wiped

Grounded

The Haunted Mansion Series

The Haunted Mansion

The Haunted Band Room

Revenge

Stop

Sameness

Building Monsters

The Blood Room (Alternate Endings 1, 2, and 3)

Restoration

Krystal's World

Caged

Figures

Catrina Billowson

The Vampire's Carnival

Labyrinth

Dollhouse

Match

Chapter 1

A silvery light wakes you from your sleep, a pounding raging through your skull. Your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness and you realize you're in a bedroom. Four walls, two doors, and sunlight streaming through the open window. A warm breeze fills your senses and you sit up, a sense of fear washing through you. You don't remember what happened last night, nor any of the nights before.

Amnesia has fallen upon you.

Female. You can feel that's what you are as you clutch at your sternum to grasp air. You can't recall your name.

Swinging your legs over the simple gray-sheeted bed, you run your fingers through your hair, which is apparently medium-length and a deep shade of brown. Wavy. Tangled, like it hasn't been brushed for a week.

You listen for voices, for footsteps, but you hear none. Are you in a house or an apartment? What city? What town?

Rubbing your temples, you stand and look around, trying to be as quiet and cautious as possible. There's a vanity across from the bed, the wood painted white. The mirror reflects your features and you find yourself staring at it for a good moment. Not even your own face seems familiar to you. You admit you're pretty... but not drop-dead gorgeous like you used to want to be.

You take a sudden breath at the thought. Did you just have an inkling of remembrance?

On the vanity there is a piece of paper, looking like someone ripped it from a notebook in haste. In quickly scrawled words, you struggle to read the handwriting. A smear of something dark sends a chill down your spine.

Blood?

You're in danger, the note reads. This is not your house. Get out. Go to the address below. Help him however you can, but whatever you do... don't fall in love with him.

The strange message ends with an address scrawled at the bottom, the pen strokes darting off the paper. You tentatively touch the place where the ink stains the white painted wood. A sinking feeling weighs on your gut and you grow queasy, lightheaded. Can you trust this note?

A door slams somewhere. Steps. You're in a house. Someone's entered.

Your attention darts to the window after a quick sweep of the room to see if there's anything that could assist you with navigation. On the nightstand next to the headboard is a phone.

Blood stains surround it.

You swipe it from the table, keeping your stomach down, just as the heavy footsteps approach and something jangles. Keys.

You had been locked inside this room.

"Time to clean up the mess," a voice outside the door says. A second person chuckles and sighs.

A hand flies to your mouth as you stifle a sob, fear overtaking your senses. You duck out the window and try not to slip on the shingles beneath your bare feet. You try to keep your hemorrhaged breathing silent as you slowly crab-walk downward, making your way to the drain pipe. If you can open the phone somehow, you could pull up GPS and find the address. Even better, you could call the police.

You hold down the power button to turn the phone on as you make your getaway.

You grip onto the gutter then drop to the ground, pain shooting through your body. Sitting there for a moment to catch your breath, you realize they aren't running after you. If you were locked in the room, wouldn't they chase you if they realized you weren't there?

You lean against the house and press a hand to your chest, your labored breathing slowing down. You need to get away from this house. Whether or not you remember anything, you definitely know this is a bad place.

Clean up the mess? You ask yourself. Did they mean the blood stains?

You look yourself over for any wounds and find nothing but scars that look like they've been there for years. Two on your bare kneecaps and one on your arm. A blue-flowered skirt shields your thighs from the world and a tight turquoise t-shirt covers your torso. Shoes aren't a luxury though, as you stare at your blue-painted toes.

Apparently blue is my favorite color, you sigh to yourself as you stand, staying clear of windows. You break into a sprint as you reach the sidewalk and don't stop until you're two blocks over, huffing and puffing. Placing your hands on your head, you glance around. No one has followed you, yet again.

Confusion overwhelms you.

The phone in your hand vibrates, startling you. Your left hand crinkles the paper with the scribbled writing. You didn't realize you'd taken it with you, you were so afraid. A sob escapes from your throat as you sink to the concrete below, no foot traffic around you.

The message pops up on the screen, the phone vibrating once again. Your heart shudders when you read it.

Your hands shake as you stare at it. Where it's supposed to have the person's name, there's the word You Know.

Another message comes through.

Don't call the police? you ask yourself, eyes darting around. Who's texting you? Can they see you?

One more look at the two messages show you they aren't from this morning—they're from last night.

Quickly, you unlock the phone, the numerical code working as the icons settle into place. A picture of you standing next to a guy you've never seen before is on the home screen, both of you smiling. You press the phone button and click on the only name available—You Know. There are three rings before the line goes dead. An automated message tells you the inbox is full.

Heading into the phone's messages, now that you're absolutely sure this is your phone, considering it's you on the backdrop, you're expecting to see texts to and from several people—but there are none other than ones from You Know.

Scrolling upward, you see there are more messages from this person, the texts starting from three days ago. You quickly read through them. There aren't many.

So your name is Cora. Such a bold name. And you know this guy in your phone, apparently from third grade in Hawaii. Were you born there? Where are you now?

You scroll down to find no answer. The date changes to the next day.

The time changes again.

Time changes again, this time right above the messages you received when you turned on the phone.

That's when the next two messages from You Know are posted, the ones that came through once the phone was opened.

You open the phone app and look through the call history. The first day the messages came through, it seems as though you two talked on the phone for about four hours. The next day, it was a few minutes throughout the day after You Know texted. Apparently, you two were close. Apparently, since third grade.

So you've graduated high school, you assume. You didn't look old enough to have graduated college when you saw yourself earlier, and you assume You Know is the same age. Tapping his name makes the phone begin to ring and you press it to your ear, standing up to duck around the corner of a building as two people begin to head your way. They don't seem to be after you, but right now, it won't hurt to be extra cautious.

The phone goes straight to voicemail after three rings, an automated message telling you the inbox is full. It's the same as before.

You dial 911, but just after pressing the call button, the phone app closes out. You try it three more times before you realize the phone won't let you call the number. And since you can't recall any of the numbers you probably knew before this strange case of amnesia, the only other option is You Know.

You take a deep breath and look around once more, taking in your surroundings and making sure no one is looking at you or watching you or trying to get your attention. Realizing you still have no one searching for you or watching, you continue to snoop through the phone.

The only pictures available in the photos app is the one on the home screen of you smiling next to the guy. You wonder if that's You Know, or if it's someone else. There aren't any other apps on the phone, just the standard ones.

Uncrumpling the paper in your hand, you touch the red stains and the scrawled writing. It's barely legible... could that be your handwriting?

With shaky hands, you type in the address into the GPS. It's a ten-minute walk from where you are. You could just search for a police station, but you wonder if something will happen to the app too if you try.

Wanting to attempt it, you search Police Station, but it comes up with no results. A chill works its fingers down your spine and you take a deep, shaky breath. So many red flags. So many. But there's something about the paper and the address that makes you want to trust it. Could you have written it? If so, why?

Can you trust yourself?

The phone weighs heavy in your hand. You could walk around aimlessly until you find a police station or someone to help you, possibly running into the guys that you assume kidnapped you or something, or you could go to the address.

But what if you didn't write it? 
Chapter 2

You took a leap of faith and type in the address. Taking a deep breath, you turn and follow where your phone leads you, butterflies swarming in your stomach. Ten minutes later, you're standing before a building with a Closed sign in the door. You rush up to it, the red paint old and chipping, and try to peer inside. There are lace curtains blocking most of your view, but you can't see anyone in that room.

You dart around to the side, a cold breeze beginning to blow and you shiver slightly. You've never been one for the cold.

You stiffen as you realize you've found something else about yourself. Will all your memories come back, eventually?

There's a side door in the small alley with the address on a metal plate, the address you're looking for. You slam your hand against the door, praying someone is there, when you hear someone walking up from your left.

"You tryin' to get in there?"

The voice sends a chill up your spine as you turn to see two big guys lumbering slowly toward you. One is wider at the waist while the other is tall, all skin and bones.

"Ain't seen nobody come out of there all morning," the tall one says, shaking his head as he staggers up. You take a step back. "Shame. That pretty lady locked herself in all night."

Pretty lady?

The door suddenly swings open just as the pair reach its threshold. A very pretty woman steps out into the daylight and takes a gander at the two guys, eyes darting to you quickly. She winks in your direction.

"There you are, Roxy, I was about to go mad with worry. You know creeps roam around this side of town."

Fatty grimaces at the jab. "Who you callin' a creep, missy?"

"Yeah," Malnourished chimes in.

She grabs your wrist gently and pulls you to the door, glaring daggers at the guys. "Got two loaded guns in my shop and one more in my bra. Don't mess with me, or your brains will be splattered all over the walls."

The guys grimace and back away, fear obviously shining in their eyes. The woman pulls you in the rest of the way and shuts the door behind her, locking it.

Her deep brown eyes narrow as she looks you over, her soft-featured face shaped like a heart. Deep brown hair falls to her shoulders in curls, tanned skin making her all-the-more gorgeous. She wears tight-fitting denim pants and a loose sparkly shirt that shows off her curves. You're awestruck.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says, wiping her hands on an apron on the counter next to her as she walks deeper into the room. You two are in a kitchen, vacant and smaller than it seems. "Us girls have to stick together."

"Now," she says, pulling herself up onto a counter and watching you carefully. "What brings you here? I wouldn't have opened my door if I didn't hear those two guys. They're rather harmless but dangerous to any girl who can't hold her own."

For a moment, you can't find your voice. Shaking your head, you produce the paper with the writing on it.

"I woke up this morning not remembering anything. This was the note I found and the phone that had been next to me, and it's mostly empty, but I know it's mine."

Why am I telling her all this? You wonder as she reaches forward to take the paper. Can I trust her?

You press your lips into a line as her demeanor changes, brows furrowing. There's something in her eyes that gives off a knowing vibe.

"There's blood?"

You nod. "I couldn't find any cuts or scrapes on me, but there was blood on the table beside me, too. I don't know if it's mine, but it seems highly unlikely."

She exhales, looking you over.

"This is the first time anything like this has happened, right?"

You stare at her, dumbfounded. "I—I think so. I can't remember anything beyond this morning."

She nods.

"Well, if you're here, that must mean you're meant to be here." She hops off the table with no more questions. "Someone told you to come here and possibly lost their life over it, as per the blood. So. That means they were trying to help you."

Lost their life?

Your breathing hitches and you clutch at your sternum.

"Don't worry," she says immediately after, recognizing the fear in your eyes. "You'll be safe here. Follow me."

She leads you to the back of the kitchen and opens another door after a moment of flipping through a small ring of keys, grumbling to herself. Black fingerless gloves cover her palms, giving her a tough look, powder dusted across them.

She finally opens the door and you two step through. The room is full of supplies and even has a freezer off to the side. In the center are two couches and three chairs, all looking very expensive. A heavy table sits off to the side, the furniture a great contrast to the other side of the room. Little snacks lay out across it and a coffee maker sits on its own little table, plugged into an outlet. The walls are bare, gray as cement, but the warm glow of the lights makes it feel less like a storage room and more like a lounge. Which is weird, considering it's most likely supposed to be a storage room.

"This is the storage room and the break area, and it's also where we have group meetings when they're called," she says, the words strange to you. "There are three other members; the fourth has been MIA for four days now, but he'll pop up again, I'm sure of it. He always does."

She turns to you and holds out a hand for you to shake. "My name is Karika. I am the owner of this here shop and have been for about a year now. My father passed away and passed it down to me."

"I'm Cora," you tell her, shaking her hand. "Thank you for helping me out."

"No big," she shrugs, sticking the keys back into her pocket. You wonder how she gets them to fit in there, considering how tight they are. "Just a heads-up, the three other members will arrive soon. We have a meeting in..." she checks her dark green watch. "Five minutes. And it doesn't even start for another ten," she groans. "He always has to be early. Brat."

You stay silent, not able to say anything.

"Anyway, to repay me for my kindness, I'd like you to join our little group. It's nothing scary or anything; it's more like a group of friends getting together, and I want to try and help you through this amnesia thing because I'm a good person. I actually just recently joined a year ago, but they've been meeting up like this for four years now and it's rude to break tradition, especially since my father loved the group so much."

You hide a grimace. Everyone will be older than you if they were friends with this woman's dad, right? I guess all that matters is that I'm safe and if they can help me, you reassure yourself.

The back door opens and you hear a voice announcing his presence.

"Brace yourself," Karika warns as she ushers you over to a chair. "These three are quite the characters and can steal your heart with one word. When all four are together, they remind me of TMNT, and I can't help but think it every time they're in the same room together."

She places the wadded-up paper in your hand and tells you to hide it. "Whether or not you decide to tell them what's going on with you is your choice, but I'm glad you opened up to me about it. I hope I can help. I've been in your shoes before."

Before you can ask her what she means, a tall guy strides in with a frown.

"Did you not hear me, Karika?" he asks, his voice low and demanding. "I said I'm here."

His eyes fall upon you and he looks surprised. His brows furrow in slight confusion as something wavers in his eyes and he twitches his fingers.

"This is Cora. She's joining us."

Against my will, you counter in your mind, although you aren't sure if you don't want to join either. What kind of group is this?

He strides over and holds out a hand to shake, eyes locked on yours. The eye-contact makes your face red with embarrassment and you shy away. Something about him makes your heart leap in your chest, something... possibly familiar.

"My name is Peter. Nice to meet you, Cora."

You nod and shake his hand, unable to vocalize anything. The moment of familiarity diminishes as you right yourself and get another look at him. There's not a trace in your mind of possibly knowing him anymore. He obviously doesn't know you, either.

"What made you want to join our little get-together?" He strides around the couch and sits down, taking up almost an entire space as he glances at his phone, typing something in with brows still furrowed. In all honesty, his face is gorgeous and his short black hair makes his dark blue eyes pop as it shifts just above his eye line. Something about him makes you want to cross the room and sit next to him, and you try your hardest to shake the feeling.

"I..." you start, glancing over to Karika for help. She shrugs and sits down on the arm of the couch directly next to you your chair, her body turned toward Peter on the other side. He glances at her and then you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long.

"She became my friend about five minutes ago and I told her to join," she says, which grants a strange look from Peter, pulling him from his phone and forcing him to face her.

"You don't know—"

"Ollie!" Karika interrupts, leaping off the couch and bounding over to a redhead that just walked in. He laughs and embraces her as she wraps her arms around him. Bright green eyes shine with amusement as they let go of each other, the guy laughing. His face is cute and round, and he stands only a few inches taller than Karika, which means he's only slightly taller than you. There's a sudden aching in your chest and you rub your thumb over your heart, hoping to ease the pain.

"I told you not to call me that," he grumbles as he takes a step around her. She follows close behind, Peter shaking his head at the interaction and shrugging off Karika's sudden introduction of you.

"This is Cora, Ollie," she says, motioning to you. His eyes catch on your face and widen as a slight flush fills his cheeks. He clears his throat and tears his eyes away, scratching uncomfortably at the back of his neck. At his appearance your heart swells with an unexplainable happiness, yet it's struck with a twinge of pain... but why?

"Nice to meet you," he mumbles quietly after a tense moment, eyes darting back to you, ears red as he picks at the cuffs of his jacket. There's something unreadable in his eyes. "My name's Oliver."

You nod at his quiet words and give him a smile, hoping to ease him. Instead, his eyes widen and he flushes even more as he turns away, his face hardening. A slight bit of happiness wriggles within you. Does he think you're cute, or is that your own ego talking?

He sits on the couch with Peter, who doesn't look up from his phone, and brings both legs up to sit cross-legged on the furniture. To this, Peter responds, eyes skirting to and from you suddenly.

"This couch costs a lot of money, Oliver," he growls. "Show some respect and at least take off your shoes before putting your feet up."

Oliver grimaces but says nothing, eyes focusing on you once more as he reluctantly takes his feet off the material and lets his face fall into expressionless territory.

He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably.

"So... are you joining our group?" He asks you, scratching his neck again. He seems so shy and uneasy...

I nod.

"But none of us know her," Peter chimes in suddenly, tapping away at his phone. "Not even Karika."

Oliver's brow furrows at this, a strange sense of confidence washing over him as he turns to Karika, who stands behind the couch.

"You don't?"

She shakes her head. "Saved her from those scumbags that walk around here just before you guys arrived."

Oliver pauses for a moment. "Feels like déjà vu," he mutters, and to this, your ears perk up.

"Deja vu?"

"It means like you've seen this happen before or something," Karika informs, but you already knew the definition. She waves the words away and turns back to Oliver. "We'll talk about that later, though, Ollie. Don't want to creep her out just yet."

You open your mouth to speak but Karika keeps going.

"Chris should be here any time now and I still haven't heard from Max, so I'm going to go get the game and pray they both randomly show up together or something."

"Game?" You question as she gets up to walk away. Instead of Karika answering, Peter sits up and turns to face you, eyes sweeping over your frame as if he's suspicious of you.

"We play board games sometimes. This week, it's Monopoly. Which I will win."

Oliver glances over to him, earbuds dangling from his collar.

"Says who?" It's the loudest you've heard him speak, but his face immediately turns red as he glances back at you. You're definitely making him uncomfortable. To Peter, he says quieter, "I never lose when I play Monopoly."

Peter smirks haughtily, a glint of humored danger gleaming in his eye. "Prepare to have your ego burst."

"I think it'll just be smothered out by the expanding of your own," Oliver mutters under his breath, crossing his arms like a child. You can't help but smile at their small bickering.

"So what do you do, Cora?" Peter asks suddenly, making your heart lurch. He stares into your eyes with so much confidence... it makes you stumble a bit.

"Uh... I'm not sure."

Peter furrows his brow and Oliver looks at you, perplexed. A thousand thoughts rush through their heads, reflecting in their eyes, but it seems as though they're coming from different places inside.

"You aren't sure?" Peter echoes. "What are you sure of?"

You clear your throat, uncomfortable as they both stare at you with brows furrowed. "Um... That my name is Cora, and even then, I'm not too sure about that."

"I have arrived!"

A male's voice busts through the room with so much energy and the loud explosiveness of it makes you jump. You take a deep breath as you turn to the door to see yet another guy striding into the room. He's tall, dark, and a little stocky, but his face is absolutely adorable. Your heart speeds up at his appearance and you breathe slowly to try to calm it down. Bright hazel eyes glisten beneath his curly brown hair and he flings a bag onto the second empty couch, followed by his dark, pale green jacket. He exhales as the other two guys settle back against the opposite couch, neither of them looking too happy to see him.

"Hey, Chris," Oliver mutters, picking at his fingers as he readjusts himself and places an earbud in his ear, eyes flitting to you for a second. So this is Chris.

"Hey, guys," he says on a huff, placing his hands on his hips and looking your way. "And who's this?"

"I'm Cora," you say with a gentle smile. The gorgeous Karika and three other attractive guys... It's a good thing you aren't looking for love because you couldn't hold a candle to her. How did all these young guys become friends with Karika's dad? You're absolutely certain her father couldn't have been their age.

You shift in your seat at the thought.

"We were just asking her about herself, but it appears she doesn't know," Peter says, filling Chris in.

Chris wrinkles his nose. "Do you have amnesia or something?"

You shrug guiltily. "It seems so."

Peter watches you for a moment longer as Chris digs through his bag. Oliver looks down at his hands, brow still furrowed. He really is shy.

"Aha," Chris says as he pulls out a notebook and pen. "You, Cora—Cora, yes?"

You nod in response.

"You have inspired my creative juices."

Oliver groans quietly as Peter grimaces in disgust. "You don't have to put it that way. It sounds disgusting."

Chris goes on as if he didn't hear him. "Amnesia," he says, moving his hands away from each other as if he's picturing the name on a billboard. "The Hidden World."

Peter glances up from his phone in what looks like disgust mixed with traces of belief that Chris is filled with absurdity.

"That doesn't even sound the least bit good together."

Chris shrugs. "Still working out the kinks."

He sits down and writes, muttering to himself quietly. He definitely is cuter when he's quiet.

"Found it!"

Karika comes back into the storage area and sets the game of Monopoly down on the short table between the seats and begins to open it up, sitting on the floor. She pulls up her pants, complaining about how tight they are.

"You could always wear looser clothing, Karika," Peter mumbles as he continues to stare at his phone.

She scoffs. "And you could at least look away from your phone when you're talking to someone."

He glances up and a smirk fills his face, making him look drop-dead gorgeous. You look away, afraid of staring at him. Or any of them for that matter as your heart kick-drums in your chest.

"Touché," he says in a lower register, in which Karika frowns.

"I told you to stop doing that, Peter," she snaps, and then turns her attention to the game as Peter glances over to you, his smile widening while he turns back to Karika.

"It's not my fault your feelings are one-sided, Karika," Peter says, the smile still plastered on his face. Your heart skips a beat at the sudden openness of this conversation that sounds like it's meant to be private.

Karika lets out a frustrated groan, her dark eyes flicking up to Peter as her jaw clenches. "You like to play dangerous games, don't you, Peter?"

He chuckles and almost seems to purr at this interaction.

"There isn't a better feeling than dancing in the flames."

Karika's fists clench and you hold your breath, the other two guys seeming to as well.

"Karika," Oliver says, switching the attention off of Peter. "I want to be the racecar."

Karika's eyes change from ferocious to playful and she scoffs, fingers shaking as she unpacks the contents. "In your dreams, Ollie."

He smiles gently and lowers himself to the ground to sit at the low table with her, overly conscious of how close you are to him, and she passes out the small figurines. She asks you first which piece you want but you kindly refuse, saying you'd rather watch. She shrugs.

"Your loss."

You take a deep breath and open your phone, hopeful that maybe some new piece of information has come up, but all there is, is what had been there the last time you unlocked it. You sigh, staring at the picture on your background. So much has happened today... and it's probably only been about an hour. Hopefully, your memories will start surfacing... Hopefully. 
Chapter 3

"So, Cora. You remember nothing about yourself?"

You startle at Chris's voice and nod. "I don't remember anything beyond this morning after I woke up."

"Where did you wake up at? Surely if you were home, it would help jog some memories."

You can see all the boys watching you out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for a response. Even Peter seems interested as he moves his piece a few paces. The only one not paying much attention is Karika, who stares intensely at the board.

"Um..." Discomfort rises in your chest and you shift in the comfortable chair. "You're right. I know I wasn't home."

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," Oliver offers, not looking up from the board as his fists clench in his lap. His cheeks are slightly pink as he says this, his words quiet. "Karika couldn't at first, either."

Your gaze switches to the only other girl in the room. Oliver's face grows redder as Karika closes her eyes and exhales, meeting Oliver's eyes. He looks away immediately, apologizing quietly, ears red like fire.

"You?" You ask her, waiting for an answer. It's as though everyone is holding their breath.

Karika turns to you and places her hands in her lap, both of them clutching to the denim around her legs.

"Yeah," she says, looking up at you, her gaze unwavering. "I woke up one morning with no recollection of anything that happened to me." The words were so monotone, as if she'd said them before over and over. How many people did she have to explain it to? "Luckily, I had my dad around me and a few days later, I got everything back, but the amnesia changed me forever." She hesitates, watching you with something like a warning in her eyes. Her next words are careful, filled with purpose. "Don't let this change you."

You stare at her, confused and unsure of what to say.

She turns back to the board and rolls the dice, not saying anything more. A shudder washes through your system as the guys stare at you two.

"What are the odds?" Chris says, staring at Karika with an intensity he hasn't shown until now. It captivates you and you stare at him. Suddenly, he breaks his seriousness and a smile breaks through, his eyes squinting. "Such a coincidence that you two had the same thing happen, and of all things, she came here to you."

He rests his head on his hands. "So interesting."

Karika grimaces. "Go back to your story, Chris, before I banish you from the group."

In mock fear, Chris sits upright and places a hand on his chest, mouth dropping open. "You would never! What do you take me as, trash?"

He laughs but Karika says nothing else as she moves her piece.

"How much do I owe you, Peter?" she asks flatly, her stare more like a glare toward him.

He grins and says, "Double what it says on the board."

"What?" She says, focusing on him again. "You're lying. I'm done playing the game. You guys can have at it. Feel free to take my spot, Cora. I'll be in the kitchen."

She stands up, the mood shifting in the room once again, the boys watching her leave with different concerns laced across their faces. You feel this pull to follow her, to comfort her, as if you're wanting to repay her for her kindness earlier. Maybe you should.

"Why are you so mean to her?" Oliver quips, giving Peter a little shove after a moment's hesitation. He sounds angry.

Peter laughs as Chris delves into his notebook, sitting back on his side of the couch.

"Because she's easy to mess with."

Oliver grinds his teeth, his face flushing again. He's super easy to read, but that isn't always a bad thing.

"One day she'll realize what a jerk you are and she'll change her mind about you."

Peter laughs out loud. "And then what? She'll fall for you?" He scoffs. "You're too quiet and wimpy for her."

Oliver shoves him again, nearly making him topple off the couch as Peter gives a curt laugh, eyes flitting to your face. Why does he keep looking at you? "I'm not into her like that, and you know it."

"What do you think of those two?"

Chris's voice startles you and you turn to see him leaning toward you. He'd quietly scooted to the other side of the couch to where he's sitting next to you, smiling in your face before turning back to the guys, continuing to lean into your personal space. He's so close, it makes your heart skip. Freckles darker than his already bronze skin litter the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones.

"They always fight. Max would be the one to smooth it over with his jokes, but, sadly, that role falls onto me when he's away." He pouts comically and sighs. "But alas, I like to watch them bicker and can't be bothered to stop them."

He turns to you and smiles.

"I think you'd like Max. If he ever comes back, that is. Everyone likes him."

"Where is he?" You ask, trying to push the thought of a guy being this close to you away. "What do you mean if he ever comes back? Is he in danger?"

Chris grins and sits back a bit. "You're so sweet, caring for people you don't know. It's a good trait, to be honest." He pauses, watching the other two continue to bicker harmlessly. "We don't know what Max does. He's super talented with computers and is really smart, but aside from that, he doesn't tell us anything else. We just know he travels a lot with his family."

Chris suddenly stands up and clears his throat. "Girls, girls, you're both pretty. Peter, you should apologize to Karika for being so mean, and Oliver, maybe you should go console her because that's what you do best. I'll fill Cora in with everything that's going on around here since it seems there's nothing to talk about today."

The boys both pout visibly, Peter automatically going back to his phone. "I did nothing wrong and therefore there's nothing to apologize for."

Oliver opens his mouth to snap at him when Chris holds up his hand, silencing them. "I'm pulling rank and telling you both to shut up or I'll stick you in a different corner of the room in time-out."

Peter scoffs. "We don't have ranks."

"Yes, well, I just created them. I'm the king, Karika's the queen, Max is the jester, Oliver is the gardener, and Peter, you're the accountant."

"Sounds reasonable," Peter says, standing too and slipping his phone in his pants pocket. "Since I take care of all the expensive things, anyway."

Peter's rich?

"But I think you're more the jester, Chris, and Max is like the security guard."

With that, Peter walks away, glancing once more at you, eyebrows knit, and calls over his shoulder, "Text me when the next meeting will be. I'm needed at work."

Chris exhales in disbelief. "It's a Saturday. You don't want to hang out with your friends?"

"Never said you were my friends. Karika's father simply threw us together, and here we stayed. Adios."

With that, he exits the storage room.

"And then there were three," Chris says.

"I'm going to check on Karika," Oliver says, standing. He turns to you and gives a pained smile, pink cheeks appearing once more as he avoids eye contact. "It was nice to meet you, Cora. I look forward to getting to know you." He makes a sound at the end of that statement, aware of what he just uttered. "I—I mean, I'll—you'll—we'll—" He rubs his face with his hand. "I hope you come to the next meeting. It was nice to see you."

He hurries out the door, shaking his head and clenching his fists.

"Make that two," Chris says. He holds out an elbow as if he's waiting for you to take it. "Want to go for a walk? I can fill you in on everything you just walked into so you'll be caught up."

You nod and stand. What other nonsense could happen today? Chris seems trustworthy, even though you just met him, but if Karika, the girl who saved your butt, trusts him, then why can't you?

You wrap your fingers around his arm and nod again. "Sure. The more knowledge I have, the higher chance I can remember something, right?" You exhale. "And that's even if I belong in this town."

Chris grins at you and leads you out of the storage room. Oliver and Karika are on the opposite side of the kitchen, Karika sitting on the counter and Oliver talking to her gently and quietly. Her face is hard and her arms are crossed. She sees you walking across the way and her eyes lock on you, something like pity filling them as you exit with Chris. Before you can speak, you're outside and you're bathed in sunlight. Squinting your eyes, you follow Chris out of the alleyway and around the corner.

"So you can't remember anything?" Chris asks out of nowhere.

"Um... yeah. Nothing past this morning."

"Interesting..." he says, drifting off into thought. He quickly bounces back. "Well. I'm sure you have questions. Let me give you a little info beforehand. I'll start with myself," he says with a grin. "I'm Chris. I'm a writer and have written twelve books, all in the fantasy genre, but have yet to make it big. Also totally single if you're interested—" your heart skips at this as you're taken off-guard, "—but if not, it's whatever, no hard feelings, and I have an older brother and younger sister and am a disappointment to my parents because I dropped out of college. To be fair, it was a harsh environment for me and I didn't think I could make a difference there."

"You want to make a difference?" you ask, looking around. Nothing seems familiar or sparks a memory.

He nods. "I think everyone does, in some way. I just hope mine is through my writing because there's not much else I can do. Go figure, right? But if it turns out there's a different way for me to change lives, I'd have to get really good at that thing..." He shakes his head. "I'm getting off-topic."

We turn into a coffee shop where he leads you into a line. "I don't like coffee, but I do like the food here. Do you know if you like coffee?"

You shake your head and he shrugs. "I'll just get you what I get and you can tell me if you like it."

You both sit down in a booth at the back, a croissant sandwich in both of your hands with a free cup of water. You slide in to the one against the wall, the thought of having your back to the room off-putting.

"It okay if I sit on the same side as you?" Chris asks with a sheepish smile. You nod and scoot over as he thanks you.

"So I'll talk about Oliver next. Karika calls him Ollie. Has since the day she met him a year ago. He doesn't have a crush on her or anything, but it's fun to tease him about it. He's a musician. More successful than me in the arts area, but he's so quiet and doesn't like doing live performances because he's so shy, but does them anyway. But you should see that boy sing. It's like he's a completely different person on that stage. He just recently started opening up more to us. He was closer to Karika's dad than any of us in the group. Or, at least, that's what it seemed like from where I stood."

Chris takes a bite of his sandwich before continuing. You take a bite too, not realizing how hungry you really were. You haven't eaten since... Well, honestly, you don't know when the last time you ate was.

"Peter's a rich snob who invents random things and who opened his own company at twenty-three. Karika's dad was obsessed with it and those two began working on plans for a new invention or something. Peter was also going to help her dad and Max with making the little shop into a cyber-cafe or something. I think that's what it's called. Anyway, Karika's dad passed away and plans fell through, but Peter insists on coming to the group anyway out of respect for her dad."

He takes another bite of his sandwich.

"Karika, as you know, is tough as nails and almost scary, and I think that's why Peter isn't interested in her romantically. He needs someone to protect, someone who will let him. Eh, that, or someone who gets under his skin. Either way, she isn't what he's interested in. She lost her mom when she was eight and then her dad when she turned twenty-two. Apparently, since losing her memory, she's drastically changed. She's told me about things she used to think and do before it happened and how much it changed after she lost it."

"Does she remember why or how it happened?" You ask between bites, taking another sip of water. You really are hungry. Most of your sandwich is gone.

Chris shakes his head. "That's the only part of her memory she hasn't been able to get back. She told me once that there's this point of her life that's super fuzzy and she thinks that's the moment she lost it. Her car was found totaled somewhere in the woods near us, so she just assumes she got into a terrible car crash."

You smile, a small chuckle escaping. "Just like in Fifty First Dates."

You furrow your brow and slow your chewing. You can remember one of your favorite moves, but you can't recall what you're doing in this town?

Well, at least you know what your favorite movie is.

Chris studies you. "Is that your favorite movie?"

You nod. "I think so. It seems like I remember small things randomly. Or, well, that's what's been happening since this morning. I can't explain it."

You feel your phone buzz. Pulling it out, you see you've got a message, but it powers off entirely. You forgot it had been at low power.

Holding in a groan, you exhale.

"You need a charger?" Chris asks, digging in his deep pockets and producing a white chord. He looks beneath the lip of the table and plugs it in, the USB fitting into a slot under it.

"Whoa," you say, looking. There are several plugs and USB ports next to it.

"Yeah. A lot of places have tables like these now. It's really useful."

You plug in your phone and place it on the table, waiting for it to turn back on as the battery image pops up, telling you it's charging.

"So what is this "group" you guys are all in?"

Chris chuckles. "Well, it's more like a hangout or a meeting about discussing important things. I'd like to say we've become friends, but we're too polite to be actual friends. Karika's dad, Frank, he created this little group for whatever we needed. Whatever we talked about, though, wouldn't leave the building. We all share a lot of memories in this place. This one time my depression was really bad, and the guys talked to me in the middle of the night at this place because I couldn't take it anymore. They lifted me up."

You choke on your water. What do you say to that? He'd said it so casually.

He laughs. "Don't worry about me. Sorry I brought that up. I just feel like I need to talk about it so you know what's going on if I act like an entirely different person. It helps to talk about the things going on inside of you, and if you're going to be a part of this group, then I think you should know."

You stare at him, your head reeling. What do you say to something like that?

Chris shifts uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"No, that's okay," you blurt. "I just... I..."

"You're at a loss for words. That's okay. I kind of sprung that on you." He scratches at his arms, a nervous tick. "Anyway, Frank died in an accident at work. He works with heavy, uh... machinery." A shadow falls over his face for a moment, but he's back to himself quickly. "But he's in a better place, and I believe that, mostly. God was his number one."

He finishes his sandwich and you crinkle your wrapper into a ball, placing it away from you.

"Ummmm, the only person I haven't really talked about is Max, and there's really nothing else to say about him. He's a mysterious guy, and he's obsessed with secrets," he laughs bitterly. "His own and everyone else's. But he's a good guy. A great one."

"I think that's everything," he says with a smile, looking back at me. "Do you know where you're going to stay tonight?"

You shake your head. You haven't even thought about that. It's been a crazy day and it isn't even noon, yet.

He nods. "Well, I'm sure any of us would have our doors open for you, but you might want to stay with Karika, considering the rest of us are guys," he grins, winking. Your face grows hot at this and he laughs. "I'm kidding. But seriously, it's probably best to stay with the only other girl in the group rather than any of us guys. We're all interested in women, so it'd be difficult to... uh..." He scratches at his head nervously. "Yeah. Just. Yeah. Stay with Karika." He laughs, this one different from the others. You breathe slowly, trying to control your heart rate and force your face to cool down. "If she doesn't let you, I'll Kar-ick-a her butt," he jokes, laughing awkwardly. "That sounded better in my head."

You smile, letting your own nervous chuckle out. You can't help but smile at him. He's so cute.

You stiffen at the thought, your face reddening again.

"So... what do you want to do? We can walk around and try to spark your memories if you're from around here. But, of course, it might not work if you've just kind of moved here or stumbled upon this town. What do you think?"

"Um..." You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. "I guess we can walk around. It doesn't seem like it'll be too hot today."

"No, it shouldn't be," he says, standing up to throw away his and your trash. You thank him as he comes back and you scoot out of the booth. "Let's go walking, then. Don't really want to go back to that mess at the shop. Karika probably won't even open it up today because she most likely doesn't feel like it. Her family's rich, so she's able to take however many days off. She only keeps the shop open in remembrance of her dad."

You nod as both of you leave the small cafe. Once you're on the sidewalk, he holds out his elbow once again for you to take with a smile. His curly brown hair falls in his face and his smile reaches his eyes.

"Shall we continue our journey, princess?"

You smile and nod as he leads the way. You two talk little as you walk, your eyes taking in everything. It's as if you're seeing out through different eyes and it's easy to be around someone like Chris, someone who will make you smile with a look. Maybe you weren't looking for love... but perhaps it'll fall into your lap if you take it all in stride. This morning was weird and scary, but as of right now, everything seems normal, and if Karika's testimony lines up to yours in any way, you'll get your memory back in a few days. Everything will be okay.

But you don't know if you can hold on to that optimistic thought. 
Chapter 4

Your phone buzzes. It makes you jump and you pull it out quickly, hoping it's You Know with information on who you are and possibly who they are.

You freeze when you realize that it's exactly who you were expecting.

"What's wrong?" Chris asks, stopping as his movements fill with concern for you.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. "This phone only has texts from me and this guy for whatever reason."

"Spooky," Chris says, peering over your shoulder. "I wonder if you deleted everything before you lost your memory. Or... maybe this was a backup phone? Or maybe... I don't know," he laughs, scratching the back of his neck. Your heart flutters at how close he is. "Maybe you... uh, didn't have anyone else that you talked to?" He winces. "No offense."

"None taken," you reply, steadying your breathing. You aren't here to fall for a cute guy. You're here because... Because you lost your memory and found a note that led you to this weirdness.

Another one comes in.

"Whoa," Chris breathes and you jump at his voice. He backs up, startled, guilt clouding his irises. "Sorry—I didn't mean to read—um..." He bounces on the balls of his feet uncomfortably.

"That's okay," you tell him, clutching your phone. If You Know is in danger...

Your mind flashes back to the room you woke up in, the two male voices outside the door.

Your thumbs linger over the virtual keyboard, trembling. You want to both ask them what is going on yet you feel something inside telling you not to reply, just as You Know asked.

Chris touches your shoulder, making your heart jump inside your chest and your breathing shallow out. His hazel eyes are filled with concern for you, which warms your insides with happiness. A complete stranger is caring for you, even in the minimalist way.

"Hey. It will be okay. Whatever happened before you lost your memory, it'll return to you and you can help whoever that person is if he needs it. I can see you're worried about them, even if you don't know who they are. I'm sure they can feel your concern and that's why they texted. Don't worry. Everything will work itself out eventually."

You nod, not completely sold on the idea, and lock the screen, exhaling. Whoever is texting you, it seems like they can take care of themselves. It also means that person didn't die for you, you realize as you think about the bloodstains and what Karika had said to you. Nodding slowly, you wrap your arms around your midsection and breathe, pinpricks of fear pushing up through your flesh. You admit to yourself you feel helpless, terrified. Without your memory... All you can do is sit and wait for it to return.

"Hey," Chris says, lifting your chin with his knuckle. You hadn't realized he was so close and it sends adrenaline rushing through your limbs, your skin tingling more. His hand is so warm, so soft... "It's okay. If there's something happening that'll put you in danger, I'll protect you. The whole group will, so don't worry. Karika got her memory back after a few days. Maybe it'll be the same for you."

You take a shaky breath in, your face hot and a knot in your throat. "I hope so."

Chris smiles gently to help make you feel better. Then you see his pupils light up with a sudden bolt of excitement.

"Do you like bowling?"

"Bowling?" You ask as he lets go of your chin, the warmth resonating and making you all-too-aware of the cold. You fight a shiver. "I don't know."

He grins and grabs your hand. Your poor heart kicks into that heavy beating once more.

"Well, I think it's time to find out."

He begins to jog, pulling you along behind him. His happy, fearless personality is contagious, and you find yourself smiling as you follow behind him. The burn of the cold air in your throat makes you thirsty, but the exercise you're giving your muscles makes your body heat up, dislodging the cold air as a threat to your homeostasis.

You laugh out loud as the two of you stop before a worn-out building with neon-striped bowling pins above the door. He releases your hand with a reddened, grinning face, and opens the door for you, ushering you inside.

"After you, princess," he laughs, energy running high between the two of you. Grinning, you step through the threshold and into the building. He walks you to the counter and pays, asking for shoes.

"I don't know my size," you tell him quietly, looking down at your bare feet.

Chris's brows furrow for a minute. "I didn't even realize you didn't have shoes on." He changes his face and grins. "Well. You're about my sister's height, so I'll just get her size."

When the teenager at the counter hands the shoes to the two of you, he gives you an extra pair of socks with a glare. "Don't make me clean them because you want foot fungus," he grumbles before Chris leads you away to your lane. He helps you find a ball you can comfortably use, one that glows neon orange in the lighting. You go first, sinking the ball into the gutter. You almost forget about You Know. Almost.

You check your phone as it charges, plugged into a socket on the wall. Still, nothing. No more texts from You Know, or anyone else for that matter. Didn't you have a family? Wouldn't they be worried for you if you went missing? Did you go missing? Do you live with your family, or do you live on your own? Do you stay in this area...?

You're startled from your thoughts as Chris gets a strike, pumping one fist in the air with triumph. His victory shout bounces off the walls, the entire place nearly empty.

I guess no one really bowls anymore.

You laugh, matching his energy easily. "Wow. Was that a lucky strike or are you hustling me?"

Chris's grin turns mischievous as he sits down next to you, sighing exasperatedly.

"Both."

He laughs with you and you look up at the screen that marked your gutter and that one bowling pin you knocked down out of pure luck. So you aren't good at bowling. You could live with that fact.

"Want me to... help you?" Chris asks, averting his eyes.

"I don't know how you could," you say, shrugging as you stand to get your ball. "I might be un-helpable."

"Here," he says, lifting from the seat and walking over to you. "Face the lane and stay still."

You obey after a moment's hesitation, your heart jack hammering in your chest already. The different neon-colored bowling pins at the end of the lane seem to mock you, but you ignore them. Chris's presence sends a chill down your spine and you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. His chest is suddenly against your back and you can feel him breathing by your ear as his hand wraps around your wrist gently, his other hand resting on your shoulder.

You heart is about to burst from your chest.

"So bring your arm back in a straight line. The little arrows in front of you tell you where the ball needs to be to hit the pins. You want to keep the ball in the middle, if you can, and then you can start working on your shot from there." He pauses, clearing his throat. A warmth rushes through you as he takes a step, putting you two closer than you thought you could be. "When I tell you to, take a step forward. Let go of the ball the next second."

You nod, unable to say anything. You can barely breathe.

Slowly, he brings your arm back. When he swings it forward again, he tells you to step, and once you do, like he said, you release the ball. It lands with a clunk on the lane and you hear Chris chuckle.

"You let go a little late, but that's fine."

The ball twists to the right, and you smile as it knocks down the furthest three pins.

"I hit some!" You grin, nerves tingling all over your body as Chris stays still. You turn to look at him, your breath hitching as you notice how close he is. Closer... closer than earlier. You can feel your pulse in your throat.

Suddenly, Chris pulls away, letting you go and shaking his head, his face hot with a red flush. You notice yours is doing the same and you take deep breaths.

"Um... So that's how you do it," he says, appearing flustered. He laughs it off nervously. "Just don't put a hole through the floor." He hesitates, scratching at the back of his neck, his eyes flicking to yours curiously. Immediately, he turns back around and glances over toward the concessions. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get us some waters."

You nod, willing your face to cool down. You don't even know who you are... How could you possibly like someone you just met if you only just met yourself, too?

You shake your head as he walks away and your ball returns to you via the machine thing. You don't like him. You're attracted to him, sure, but... like him? Not a chance... right? You just met him. And there are bigger fish to fry than feelings toward a boy. Man.

You let out a groan and scold yourself to focus, although you can't help but admit you liked when he held you like that, helping you bowl. A part of you wishes he wouldn't have let go, that he would have leaned in...

You shake your head again.

"Nope," you sigh to yourself as you pick your ball back up and turn to the lane. Taking a deep breath, you swing your ball back and take a step forward—

"Agh!"

You hit the ground, the ball skidding into the gutter.

"You okay?" Chris blurts, rushing over to you.

"Agh..." You rub your butt, face redder than ever. "That hurt."

An embarrassed chuckle slips from your lips, and Chris can't fight his own grin as he sits on the ground next to you, eyes filled with amusement.

"Do you need me to carry you to the hospital, princess?" He jokes. You let out another laugh and shake your head at him.

"Are you supposed to be my knight in shining armor?" you ask, laying down on the floor, defeated. You cover your eyes with your arm, sighing, stomach twisting. You'd stepped on the slick part of the lane and slipped. Wonderful. Good thing there aren't many people here who saw that...

He nods, face growing comically serious for a moment. "Every princess needs one."

You peek out from under your arm with a playful grin. "You think so?"

Chris shrugs. "Who knows? I could be your prince in disguise, if you wanted me to be."

His eyes are swimming with emotions you can't fully read, nor fully understand, but you do see the happiness there, the wonder, the curiosity. He watches you and then you realize you're staring and turn away, your face growing hot all over again. I'm blushing too much, you tell yourself, stifling a groan and sitting up.

The world around you brightens in the head-rush from change in elevation and you wait it out.

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" Chris asks again, leaning toward you. "My back was turned so I didn't see if you hit your head or anything."

You finally open your eyes to see him and nod. "I'm fine. Just sat up too quickly."

He grins and nods. "If you say so."

Chris stands to his feet and offers his hand out to you. You take his generous help and stand yourself, his free hand reaching out to catch you if you fall again. You're suddenly aware of everywhere he'd touched only a minute before, helping you with bowling. Your heart pulls you toward him, getting lost in the gaze you two share until you realize that, once again, you're staring, and look away. You shake your head and swallow the nervous knot in your throat, letting go of his hand.

"Um... I think it's your turn."

He smiles and nods, taking a step back toward the balls. He nearly trips over it, catching himself on the machinery part and laughing nervously.

"This is weird," he admits, making you hypersensitive to everything about yourself and about what you've said. Did you say something wrong to make him feel weird? Is it a bad weird? Is it you that's weird? Oh, you don't like this guessing game... "I hardly ever get so flustered," he mumbles as he rights himself and grabs his ball. "Careful—I don't want you falling again," he grins through his nerves, and you step out of the way, darting around him to sit down in the uncomfortable seats, watching him and trying to reign in your emotions.

You two finish your time slot with high energy, the awkward moments you shared not brought up or mentioned at all, thank goodness. It spared you some embarrassment. You felt weird just thinking about it, the possibility that you might have feelings toward this stranger... What a strange concept, to like someone you just met that day. But then again, didn't that happen to Romeo and Juliet?

Shaking your head for the umpteenth time today, you push those thoughts away. He is not Romeo and you are not Juliet. You'd never kill yourself over a guy. Over anyone, really.

Well, there's another something about you: you're not self-destructive to a harmful degree.

You both turn in your shoes, all smiles, and the guy at the counter scoffs at you when you try to return the socks, too.

"Keep them," he grumbles, walking away. "The shoes, too. I'd rather not clean them, anyway."

You shrug with a confused look as you turn to the glass doors that lead outside, Chris as confused as you about the shoes. It's a little after one, and your stomach is rumbling.

Chris looks at his watch as you step out into the slightly chilly weather. Your t-shirt does nothing to warm your arms as you rub your fingers over them, hoping to create some friction to help with heat insulation.

"Are you cold?"

"A little," you admit. "I guess I can't really handle the weather when it gets a little chilly."

His face contorts slightly as he places a hand on the back of his neck.

"Sorry I don't have a sweater or anything for you to wear," he apologizes. "I actually really like the cold, so it doesn't affect me as strongly. Unless you'd rather me... put my arms around you or something."

He turns away as you stiffen at the thought. He was so warm earlier when he had his chest to your back...

Your face is on fire as you look elsewhere, tongue-tied.

"I—I won't ask you to do that. I'll probably be fine once we start walking." With that, you take a breath and look him in the eyes, but shy away immediately, losing all confidence and cursing yourself.

"So, uh—" you clear your throat. "Where are we going now?"

Chris exhales, thinking. "Well. Karika might have calmed down by now. Maybe she'll feel up to making us lunch and you can ask her if she will let you stay with her. I'm pretty sure she'd be fine with it." He pauses. "Maybe. Hopefully."

You nod, the pounding in your chest taking up residence in your ears. "All right."

On the way back to the little shop, Chris talks to you about his books, his plans for the future, his family. His parents died when he and his siblings were little and his aunt took them in.

When you two reach the shop, he opens the side door for you, the kitchen filled with a scent that wafts out into the open air and to you, making your stomach grumble. As you enter, Chris shuts the door behind the both of you and you see Karika slaving over the stove, a smudge of flour on her cheek as she rolls some kind of pastry, her curly hair up in a messy bun. She doesn't even turn around, just continues muttering to herself.

"You good, Karika?" Chris asks, startling her. She jumps, pressing a hand against her chest and glaring at him.

"Stay out of my way and you might get some of this when it's finished. If you're looking for lunch, raid the fridge in the storage room. The one with the sandwich stuff in it."

"Do you need help?" you ask, and Karika looks at you, almost with a bewildered expression.

"I mean, if you want to help, that's cool too," she says with a shrug, the surprise of your offer still on her face. "Just put your hair up and put on an apron. They're in the storage room as well."

"I'll help too," Chris says excitedly, already through the door into the room where you'd met the members of the strange group you'd stumbled into. Karika laughs at him, finishing her last pastry and shoving the entire sheet into the large oven, heat billowing from it as she opens the door.

"He seems more tame than usual," she says with a side grin. "Wonder if that's your doing."

You shift from one foot to the other, slightly uncomfortable as butterflies begin to swarm in your stomach at her words.

"No, I don't think so."

Karika laughs. "He's a romantic. He's bound to be changed by a new girl in his life, especially if she isn't pushed away by his strange humor or the way he seems to make a joke out of every situation in attempts to be like Max." She looks at you with sincerity in her eyes. "He's a good guy, so don't be afraid to open up to him. You'll have to open up to all of us, eventually."

The way she says those words... They seem to melt through you like ice, even though her tone was far from it. Her words sounded warm, but they somehow sent an ominous feeling through your limbs, as if they were a warning. You almost want to ask her what she means, besides the obviousness of if you're going to stay here, you'll have to become friends or play nice.

"You know what my favorite bug is?" She asks out of the blue, making your brain spin in a drastically different direction. You reel in confusion at the sudden random turn, but she continues, unphased as she mixes ingredients for what looks like will be a large cake. "There's this butterfly. It's called a Glasswing Butterfly. Its wings are transparent and it's stunning. It's rare and only lives in certain parts of the world. It isn't supposed to be here in the U.S., but... I've seen it. Quite a few times, actually, but, for the past year, I haven't. I thought it died. And lately I've been thinking about it... and I think it lived. I think maybe it was just waiting until someone could see it again."

She looks at you with a sad smile and turns back to her bowl. Your head is still confused, unable to give your mouth words to utter.

"I know one day someone will see it again in this area, even though I won't. And I'm okay with that." She looks up at you for a moment, pulling your attention to her sad brown eyes. "I really, really hope that you never see it."

Your brow furrows at this. What?

"Found them!" Chris announces, bursting through the door with two aprons, one pink and one orange, and in the other hand, he holds a sandwich made with two slices of bread and a square of cheese. "You had them really in the back. How do you expect anyone to help you if you do that?"

Karika turns to him, rolling her eyes as if she didn't just say what she did to you. "No one ever wants to help me, anyway. Everyone I hire quits after a few weeks. Stupid high school students."

You stare at her, trying to figure out what she said, but you shake it off. You'll ask her about it later. If you're staying the night with her, you'll have plenty of time to talk to her, right?

As the minutes pass in a flash, the unease inside you slips away and you smile as you make new friends. For a moment, you wonder if you even want your memories back. Everything you've seen so far has been negative or harmful to some degree: being locked up in a strange house, bloodstains on the note you found and the table you woke up beside, the texts from this strange You Know... Maybe it's better that you don't remember.

But you have no control over it, do you?
Chapter 5

The day comes to a close and you sit in the openness of Karika's shop, the sun beginning to set behind the buildings. You haven't had any breakthroughs with your memory, but that's fine. Hopefully you will, soon.

"So Chris was telling me you needed somewhere to stay." Karika sits down on the other side of the table, wiping her hands on her dirty red apron. The wall behind her is filled with trinkets and books and other odds and ends. "He thought he'd offer his place but thought it'd be inappropriate, considering he's into you and all."

You're taken off-guard by her words. It may seem that way, but... you two just met.

Karika smiles knowingly. "The heart's such a crazy thing, isn't it? It wants what it wants, even against your better judgement." She places a fist under her chin and looks at you, her bronze skin glowing in the sunset and her brown eyes glistening with mixed emotions you don't understand. She sighs. "I wonder how long you'll stay with us. I wonder if it'll be just a few days or for a long time... and I wonder if you being here means that something needs to change."

You furrow your brow. Karika seems like a really cryptic person.

What she said earlier strikes you.

"Um, you—earlier, you were talking about that butterfly and then said something weird, I—"

She shakes her head. "That story is for another time if I think it's needed. So don't worry. I'm just warning you of a possible wrinkle, is all."

"Wrinkle?"

"Talking about me?"

You fight the tide of irritation as once again, Chris interrupts your conversation with Karika. The things she says are so weird... Will she ever decipher them for you?

The irritation slips away as Chris pulls up a chair at the end of the table, setting the chocolate cake you guys made three times to get perfect between you.

Karika smiles, but you can see the gleam of sadness in her eyes. "As if your ego needs more stroking."

The word ego pulls your mind to the texts in your phone, which is now fully charged. You Know seems to be in trouble, or something... You wonder what he has gotten himself into. What kind of trouble could it be... and does it involve you in any way?

"Let's dig in!" Chris says as he sets plates down in front of you, Karika, and himself. The three of you already tasted the pieces you had to cut off, but having a full slice with icing and the full shebang "gives it a different feel", as Karika insisted. She was right, you realize as you enjoy your piece. Karika and Chris grow comically excited about the cake, but you seem to distance yourself a bit as you retreat into your thoughts. You want to text back, but... You Know said not to. What if you're in eminent danger but you don't know because you lost your memory? That's one reason why you want to press forward and pursue chasing your memory, but... so far, it seems like you're safe, even if you're in the care of complete strangers. And maybe your past isn't all that important, maybe you had a terrible life before you lost your memory. Perhaps it's a blessing you forgot everything, and this is a way out.

When push comes to shove, will you choose to continue chasing the past, or will you work to make a different future?

"Are you alright?"

Chris's voice tugs you out of yourself. You realize you've been pushing the last small piece of your cake around your plate. You look up at him and smile gently, hoping to shove the unease you feel away and focus on the moment. There's nothing you can do about your memory now. It's just a waiting game.

"Yeah, sorry," you say, taking the last bite and chewing it. "I zoned out there."

"Well, I'm going to go clean up," Karika says, standing and grabbing the now empty plates. "Thanks for helping you guys. This new recipe will sell without a hitch tomorrow if I decide to open shop."

You stand up to go help but Karika shakes her head.

"I got it, girl, don't worry about it. I have a lot to think about and cleaning helps with that." She turns to Chris before walking out. "You wanna walk her to my apartment? I won't get back until later, so you can keep her company."

She bumps her hip against his shoulder playfully as his face flushes, eyes widening as he looks up at her. "Karika—"

"I appoint you as her official body guard," she calls over her shoulder as she opens the door to the kitchen with her butt. "Especially since creeps come out at this time."

Chris sputters for a minute. "Who will walk you home, then?"

"My two guns," she laughs, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Chris shakes his head, trying to hide his nerves with a smile. "Uh, well, I guess it's really up to you. She does tend to stay up all night when she's here. Actually, that's probably the reason why she didn't open up shop today."

"Well..." you start, your pulse quickening again. "I..."

You admit you like spending time with him, that he makes you feel better in the midst of all this craziness. He distracts you, and even helps you get to know yourself better, which is a major plus right now. Not to mention, you feel exhausted. You might just pass out once the sun goes down completely.

"I guess I'm okay with that. It isn't dark yet, though." You take a shaky breath, trying to smooth your nerves. "But if you don't want to do that or have something else to do—"

"No, I don't have anything else to go do," he interrupts with an apologetic look on his face, one that mixes with a sense of excitement. "I was just going to stop by the bookstore on the way home, but I can put that off—"

"That's okay." It's your turn to interrupt with a smile. "Are any of your books there? I'd like to read one."

Even if I don't really know if I like to read or not.

It takes a moment for him to process what you said, his face suddenly lighting up. "Really? Wow—I— No one's really said that to me before. You mean it?"

You nod, glad you made him happy.

He stands and holds out a hand to you, that confident grin returning to his face. "Then onward, fair maiden, I shall walk you to the book store! But... None of my books are actually for purchase there because I'm self-published. Bookstores don't like to keep stock of self-published authors in their stores. We can stop by my apartment and I can lend you one, though."

You take his hand, accepting his gesture, and stand yourself, letting go to smooth down your skirt.

"Very well, my knight," you say, your face growing hot at the words. You didn't expect the words to come out of your mouth, but didn't mind in the playfulness of the situation. "Lead the way!"

He nods and leads you into the kitchen where Karika doesn't even look up, muttering to herself as she wipes off the mess you guys made on the silvery countertops.

"Are you sure she doesn't need our help?" you ask Chris, watching Karika.

Chris nods as the two of you step outside, shutting the door behind you. "She always refuses any of us when we help her, too. Earlier was a rarity, really, and I think it's because she's playing nice with you. She always says she needs to work through some things, and throws a fit if we try to force help on her, so we tend to let her do what she wants. She really changed after her dad died. It was like a switch was flicked."

"How did you know her dad?"

Chris shrugged. "He liked my book. It was the first one I wrote. I did this book signing three years ago and he invited me. He was hanging around with Peter at the time, who was on his phone, as usual, and Peter told me to come too, but sarcastically. So, because it ticked me off, I went, and never stopped going. I met her a few times before her dad died, but she was so quiet and... the opposite of what she is now. Then, right before her dad passed, she lost her memory and never was the same after taking over the shop."

"Did you like her?" You ask before you can stop the words from coming out.

He laughs gently, scratching the back of his neck. "I thought she was really pretty, but she wouldn't give me the time of day. She was so focused on Peter, but he wouldn't give her the time of day. Oliver grew close to her, but he doesn't see her in a romantic way at all, and I think it's from some past relationship and that he's sworn off dating for good. He sees her more like a little sister." He laughs. "She calls the four of us turtles because she said we remind her of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a show she was apparently in love with when she was little." He grins as he leads you onto the sidewalk next to a busy street. "She said I reminded her of Michelangelo, and I'm not sure if she means it as a compliment."

You smile, not sure what he means by the name of the show, but you do have a faint understanding of it, somehow. They were superheroes. Turtle superheroes.

He's silent for a moment, the wheels turning in his mind.

"Is it okay if I put my number in your phone? There's a big chance Karika won't go home tonight because she'll lose track of time, so if she doesn't, just call or text me and I'll come to help you walk back to the shop or wherever you need to go."

You smile and nod, unlocking the phone and handing it over to him as you both stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He types in his information and sends a text. You take it back and smile at his name, not aware you're doing it, finally laughing out loud at what he put.

"Knight in Shining Armor?" You ask aloud, to which he grins in response and shrugs.

"Thought you'd like that."

You nod. "It's funny."

He smiles back and turns, resting his hand on his neck as you start to walk again.

"The bookstore's just ahead, so we should be in and out before the sun fully sets."

You nod, the light posts coming on. He opens the door for you and you thank him with a curtsy and a laugh, granting glares from the quiet people scattered around the front of the store. There are bookshelves everywhere, books lined up like soldiers on each one. Chris immediately guides you to the fantasy section, taking ahold of your wrist.

If he keeps making my heart pound like this, I'm sure to have a heart-attack, you tell yourself, but at the same time, you don't want him to stop. You've spent a whole day with him... Will you miss him when you're alone?

He lets you go and you attempt to breathe slower as you watch him excitedly mumble the names of the spines, seeming to look for something specific. He's absolutely handsome, no doubt about it.

A curl falls onto his forehead, but he's too preoccupied looking through the shelves to put it back. Why do you feel the urge to help him move it from his face?

"Found it!" he practically shouts, spinning around to you once he pulls a book out. "Ah, I've been dying to read this for a year now. It just came out about a week ago, so I'm surprised it's here already. This is a second-hand store, after all."

His smile is contagious and he holds your gaze for a moment, smiling.

"Do you still want to read one of my books?" he asks, his tone implying he's believed you've changed your mind. You nod.

"Of course!"

He smiles. "Okay. Cool. Then..." he looks down at the book he's going to buy, and then back up at you with a smile. "I will escort you to my apartment so I can give you one of my books."

He takes a deep breath and then makes his way over to the register, you on his heel. After leaving the store, it takes about fifteen minutes to reach his apartment, which is on the third floor.

He's been warning you about how messy his apartment is and that you should probably stay outside, but he backed up and started worrying if someone would try and kidnap you or something while he was inside. You laugh and he pouts.

"I'm serious!" Then, with a smile, he adds, "There've been some weird things going on around here, and it seems like crime is skyrocketing. So if the group seems a little overprotective of you and Karika, that's all it is. There are too many sketchy people with bad intentions living around here."

You nod in understanding as he fiddles with his keys and unlocks his door.

"Ignore the mess," he says quietly as he opens the door and walks right in. Shutting the door behind you, he flips a switch. Your helplessly nervous heart kick-starts into overdrive and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking.

The small living room is packed tightly with a brown couch, clothing piled on it, and a TV, the screen dirty with dust.

He apologizes again about the mess. "I'm not a gross person, but I tend to get really into my books so I don't spend time in the living room, much. And the clothes, uh... those are clean, so... they aren't a problem, um..." he bounces on the balls of his feet and turns to you. "Just wait right here. I'll be right back. Maybe you should close your eyes so you don't see all the messy stuff around—"

You laugh. "It's fine. You weren't expecting me. My mom used to call this kind of messy 'Lived-In', so it's not really a mess, really."

You smile as you say the words. You remembered something about your mom? Cool.

Chris beams. "It's good to see you're slowly getting your memory back. I really look forward to helping you with that."

His genuine smile stays on his face as he disappears into a room, the sounds of things shifting echoing out into his small living room. It really is "lived-in". Everything is rather clean and there are only a few things here or there that are out of place. Papers and notebooks stick out every which way on the bookshelf beside the kitchen, the shelves filled the brim with books of several colors. He really does like to read. You wonder if he's read every one of these.

"Got it," he says as he exits the room and comes back over to you. "Now we can get out of here and you can get some shut-eye. How does that sound?"

You smile.

"Unless you, uh, you're still hungry or something? I have food here. I'm sure Karika does too, but I feel like she'll only have stuff you have to make in the oven and labor over for an hour before you get to eat anything. Me, I have Pop-Tarts, a blessing from God."

You laugh. Admittedly, you are hungry, but being here with him... it's making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. However... you don't really want the day to end just yet. You suck on your cheeks for a moment.

"What flavor?"

Chris's eyes light up and he does a little hop-skip backward as he strides over to his pantry, which is behind the wall the bookshelf leans against. He peeks around the corner.

"Strawberry. And... S'mores."

"Hmmm..." you take a few steps toward him, his eyes watching your every move. "Surprise me."

With a grin he ducks behind the corner again and says, "It's a mystery you want, so it's a mystery you'll get! Toasted?"

You turn the corner to see him unwrapping the Pop-tarts.

"Sure."

"No, you can't see the frosting on top," he says, hiding the package with his body as he stands in front of the toaster. Laughing, he continues, "It'll give it away."

Your phone buzzes and your stomach twists inside you as you bring it up. Is it You Know?

It is.

So it's safe to text them now? You wonder.

You begin to type a message, your fingers shaking the phone.

Staring at your message, you wait for a response.

"What happened?" Chris asks, coming closer as the smell of the Pop-Tarts begins to fill the space. He peers over the top of your phone. "You texted them? What'd they say?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Hopefully they'll respond and have some answers for me."

Your phone begins to vibrate like crazy, You Know flashing across the top of the screen. The two of you collectively take a breath in and share a look.

"Are you going to answer it?" he asks.

You gulp and nod. "I think I have to."

Pressing the green pickup button, you press the phone to your ear and struggle to breathe.

"Hello?" you ask.

There's silence on the other side of the phone. A light crackling like static comes through for a moment, and then a breathy, masculine whisper reaches your ears.

"So it is you. I was worried."

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say now that you've got into contact with the only person that holds the answers to your missing past.

"Are you alone?" the whisper continues. It sends chills down your spine and fear into your core. Not because his voice is scary, but because... he knows you from before you lost your memory, and it seems like the both of you were in some kind of trouble before... and...

You're terrified of the truth.

"No. I'm with a friend," you respond timidly, fighting your nerves. "But I don't know who you are."

"Sure you do, buddy," he whispers. "You know who I am."

You close your eyes and clench your fist, tightening your grip on the phone. Why are you getting angry? Is it because you feel helpless?

"No. I don't. I can't remember anything before this morning. Do you know anything as to why?"

Silence. Then, "You're kidding me."

Chris places a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you as you meet his eyes. The Pop-Tarts pop out of the toaster, done. He'd made the strawberry ones.

"No."

More silence. Static.

The line goes dead.

Dread seeps into your bones.

You pull the phone away and tap on his name again, but just before you can, his name disappears. The call history, too. You rush into your messages in a panic to see they've been deleted. Even the only picture in your images is gone.

You stare at your phone, your stomach bottoming out.

Everything that was stored in your phone is gone, even the address you typed into the maps app.

This can't be good. This can't be good at all.
Chapter 6

"Everything's deleted," you say out loud in awe, Chris taking the phone from you in disbelief.

"What?" he enters and exits various apps, looks in the settings, et cetera, but finds nothing. Everything has disappeared. Your only lifeline to the past you can't remember.

You stare at the phone in disbelief, chest tight, knees weak. You're trembling.

"Are you okay?" Chris asks gently, his own voice wavering. "You look like you're gonna pass out."

You look up at him, swallowing hard. "Yeah... I..."

You find a deluge of tears waiting to rush from your eyes and you shut them tight, your body tensing as you force them to stay where they are. You breathe, telling yourself you aren't going to cry. You can't cry. You can't...

"Hey," you hear. Chris's gentle voice reaches you and your mask cracks as you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders. He pulls you in and you open your eyes in shock, heart pounding inside your chest. "It's okay. You'll get your memories back without that stuff. Karika got hers back, so you don't need to worry."

Your breath is shaky but you refuse to budge. If you loosen even one muscle, you might explode. Overwhelmed, you stay rigid. You will not cry.

"Cora." Chris pulls away and places his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes reach deep into yours and you feel your walls start to crumble. "It's okay to cry."

You shake your head, your chin coming loose.

"I can't cry." Your voice is trembling. "I can't—"

You clasp your mouth with your hand, holding in the sob, but it escapes through the cracks in your fingers and the first fat tear falls from your lashes. At it, Chris pulls you into his arms once more, the phone still in his possession. He sets it on the counter next to you two and continues to pull you close until you relax and clutch his shirt. A few more sobs sneak out and you can't fight the helplessness clawing at your insides. Your best shot at remembering who you are is now gone.

You finally sigh, leaning into your new friend. He strokes your hair gently, keeping silent. It's comforting, the quietness of him.

"What if I never get my memories back?" You whisper to no one, shocked at how open you've become within the past few hours with this boy, this man.

Chris's hand stops mid-stroke and you feel him thinking for a moment before he pulls back, his face so close to yours. It makes your heart flutter, lightening the weight of the moment.

"You will," he says confidently, staring into your eyes. "I have no doubt you will."

You take a deep breath in and look away, his thumb brushing away a stray tear off your cheek. The way he's staring at you... it almost makes you forget you're in the middle of something strange. Almost. You nearly wish you could curl up here forever, letting him hold you until you feel like you can walk on your own again. You Know and the information on the phone felt like the crutches for your broken memories, but now that they've vanished... you're freefalling with no parachute.

You lean into his hand and pull yourself close again, hearing him breathe in slightly in shock. You can't vocalize it, but... you don't want him to let you go just yet. He feels like something strong to lean against, something that can help you walk through this foggy maze you've stepped into. Just for now... Hold on to me.

Without a word, it's like he understands. For a while, the two of you stand there, embracing until the shadows grow long through the windows and the sun disappears. You finally pull away, wiping your eyes, and take a step back.

"I'm sorry," you croak, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, some of the weight dissipating.

"Don't be," he whispers, his face gentle. All day, he's been joyous and funny, but... it seems as if there's a quiet side to him. "There's so much that's happened to you... I would have broken down long before you did."

You force a small smile.

"Thank you for being here for me," you say, heart clenching at your openness. Your nerves creep up. You can't even look at him. "I'm sure you had better things to do than to comfort a stranger."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shake his head, a small smile spreading across his face. You turn to look up at him. Your heart jumps as you realize how close he is again. The green flecks in his eyes stand out in the dim lighting coming from the kitchen.

"I'd much rather be here."

You're suddenly so aware of his hand still in your hair and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Chris grits his teeth and backs away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. His hand releases you and he takes a step back, scratching his neck like he has so many times today, his face flushed in the dim lighting. You stand watching him. Was he going to kiss you? Did you want him to?

"Uh..." He says with a nervous half-smile, not able to meet your eyes. "The, uh... Pop-Tarts are done. Do—do you want yours?"

He retreats into the kitchen and you place a hand on your chest to slow your jackhammering heart, telling it to shut up.

"S-sure," you stutter. What if he had kissed you? You barely know him... and yet...

"Here," he says, handing you one of the rectangular sugar-pastry things, and you take it. It's barely warm now. Chris takes a bite out of his and smiles.

Considering he's into you and all.

Karika's words make your muscles stiffen for a moment.

You look down at your crumbling Pop-Tart as a twinge of sadness rushes through you.

"What if... I regain my memory and it turns out I wasn't like this at all? What if I was in a lot of trouble, like, with some bad people? Will you...?" You stop yourself short of asking the question, feeling embarrassed. You just met him. The group. And yet...

Chris suddenly looks at you with wide eyes. It takes him a second to register what you're saying as his face relaxes.

"That's okay, then," he shrugs, taking a small bite of the food in his hand. "Because I'm getting to know you like this. And... I won't let anything bad happen to you." He meets your eyes, not shying away from your gaze. "Promise."

Your heart swells at his words and you nod, unable to hide the small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Maybe...

"Oh," he says suddenly, darting into the kitchen for a moment before reappearing. "Here's the book. It's my most recent."

You smile, taking it from him, grateful for the distraction. "It looks so cool! Did you do the cover too?"

Finally taking a bite of your Pop-Tart, you glance up at him and he's beaming.

"Yeah. I'm super proud of that, too." He pauses, looking as if he wants to tell you something else, but seems to decide against it, reaching for a green jacket hanging over the back of the couch and shoving it in his bag. "Alright. Well. Now that it's super dark, I think it's time to take you back to Karika's. She hides the key under a rock in her front yard, so you'll be able to get in."

"Good point," you smile. "If we stay any longer, I might fall asleep here."

He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. He sure does that a lot... Am I making him nervous?

"Karika would kill me," he says, leading you out the door and locking it behind him. You finish off your Pop-Tart and dust your fingers off onto the concrete below. The town looks really creepy at night, but it's probably because you don't recall being here and you aren't used to it. If this was, say, a town you grew up in or something, you were sure you'd feel more comfortable walking around at night.

You shudder, a chill rushing through your body. It's colder than it was this morning, and you don't have a jacket.

"Are you cold?" Chris asks suddenly, disturbing the silence. But you aren't complaining.

"A little," you admit, and he opens his bag, rummaging through random things you see in there, mostly pens and papers. He produces his jacket, somehow not spilling the contents in the bag all over the sidewalk and opens it up, placing it around your shoulders. Your body immediately heats, but it isn't from the jacket. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck briefly before he steps away.

"Here. Keep it for the night. I don't really get that cold."

You eye him, noticing the fog coming from his mouth as he speaks and the goosebumps on his arms. He is cold.

"Are you sure?" you ask dubiously. He grins and wraps his fingers around the back of his neck, his elbow in the air as he nods.

"Yeah, I'm good. We're almost there, anyway."

"You look cold," you argue gently, fingers around the opening of the jacket, ready to give it back at his command.

He shakes his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."

You pout slightly. "Don't be stupid." Without thinking, you grab his arm and wrap around it, pulling yourself close to him to keep him warm too. He jumps a little, stiffening, and your heart kick drums in your chest, your face heating. After a split second of you asking yourself why you did that, you start to let go.

"Sorry," you mutter, but he grabs your hand, stopping you in your retreat.

"No," he says gently. "That's okay. You're really warm. Maybe... Maybe I am a little cold."

Slowly, you return to being wrapped around his arm, the sound of your pumping heart taking up the airways. The only breaks in your nervous silence are the sounds from your footfall.

But... Admittedly... Being like this...

It makes you happy.

Chris suddenly stops and turns toward a house, breathing out. "Well... this is it."

You look up to see a large building with several doors leading into apartments. He walks up to the building with you hanging onto him still and stops at the second door on the left, number 703, and you let go as he reaches under a rock and produces a spare key, handing it to you with a big smile.

"This is her door. Her dad left her his home but she never stays there. She says there are too many memories there so she prefers the apartments. Apartments," he continues with a sigh, "that her dad used to own."

Your jaw drops a little in shock. "Wow. Her family really is wealthy."

He nods. "Yeah. Filthy rich. Owns half the town."

You nod, not really wanting to go inside. Were you ready to be alone with your thoughts?

"Are you okay?"

You snap your eyes around to look at him, not sure how honest you want to be with him this time. He's been so kind and generous... How long do you plan to take advantage of it?

You glance at the door, your hands clinging to each other, the cold nipping at them gently. You aren't ready to be alone with your mind just yet, you can feel it. And what if those guys from this morning, the guys you escaped from... what if they find you here and no one is with you? What then?

"Hey." Chris pulls at your hands and pries them from each other gently, holding them with his. "If you'd feel better I stayed here with you until Karika got home, I'd be happy to. We can go inside or we can stay out here—it's totally up to whatever you're comfortable with."

You stare up at him, grateful and feeling selfish.

"You don't have to... You've been so nice to me all day and you're probably freezing now—"

"Nah," he interrupts with a small laugh. "You kept me warm all the way here. Besides, I—I like spending time with you." He ducks his head slightly, his curly hair falling onto his forehead and shifting slightly in the wind. "I know we just met this morning, but... something about you makes me want to keep you by my side."

His words are muttered gently, and you can feel the utter honesty within them. They make your heart flutter and you don't know how to react to that. It's true that... that you feel the same way to a degree. You don't want him to leave. But is it because you want to feel protected, or is it something else? Is it okay to like someone after a day of getting to know them?

You exhale.

"I don't want to keep you, but..."

His eyes light up at your words as you continue.

"I think I escaped this morning from someone who kidnapped me. I don't know if they're still after me or if they're looking for me or... I don't know." You bite your lip, unable to look at Chris as he tightens his hold on your fingers. "In all honesty, I'm scared someone's going to come get me. I think I'm in some kind of trouble, but I can't remember what it is, and I think this You Know guy has something to do with it. I'm... I'm scared."

You finally meet his eyes and his face has turned to something determined, nodding at your words.

"I'd be happy to stay until Karika got home," he offers. "Do you want to stay outside, or do you want to go in?"

His face reddens and he looks away, letting go of your hands to carry out his nervous tick. You smile. His poor neck.

"I'm not, like, going to try anything or anything if you're worried about that! We can watch a movie or something until she returns or you can just go to sleep and I'll stay in the living room—there's a lock on the door if you're worried I'm not being honest or anything. It's—it's up to you."

He smiles sheepishly at you and you can't fight the smile.

"I think I'd like to watch a movie. I mean, I am tired, but I... don't think I'm ready to try to fall asleep with my thoughts."

He nods with a grin. "Okay. Cool. I have the perfect movie. You might have seen it, but you probably don't remember it, so that's fine," he begins to ramble as you unlock the door and step inside. He switches on the light and your eyes take in the most lavish furniture you've ever seen. She really is loaded.

The mounted flat screen sits above a big fireplace, and, unphased, Chris walks right up to it and grabs the remote, turning it on. You take a seat on the sofa, the scent of him on his jacket billowing around you and taking you off guard. You feel nervous, which, in your mind, is way better than fear of the unknown, which is too much to handle right now. He plops down next to you, talking about the movie he wanted to search for, not able to find it and getting comically irritated for a moment. He laughs it off and settles for another movie, a romantic comedy that has you both laughing until your stomachs hurt.

You find yourself watching him more than the movie as his laugh fills the room.

Karika doesn't come home after the movie finishes so you choose the next one. It isn't as funny as the first, and a bit more romantic than it seemed on the cover. At one point, you find yourself growing tired and you lean your head on Chris's shoulder. His warmth lulls you into a sleep and you're soon dreaming.

You're woken up by the front door opening, morning light seeping through the window. You sit up, your face flushing red as you realize you fell asleep on Chris, and he fell asleep on the couch too, holding you close. He looks so peaceful, so handsome...

"Looks like you two kept it PG last night," a voice says, making you jump. Karika walks through, dark bags under her eyes. Is she just coming back?

You rub the sleep from your eyes, Chris groaning quietly as he shifts, his eyes fluttering. They shoot open the next moment and he sits upright fast, looking from you to Karika and back. Karika stands in the doorway with a smirk, her unruly hair in a bun on the top of her head.

"Chris, ever the gentleman," she says with a chuckle.

"S-sorry," he stutters, running his fingers through his hair. "We were watching movies and I think we passed out."

"I have two bedrooms, you know," she says, setting her stuff down by the door and making her way toward the hallway. "You could have slept anywhere else but the couch."

Yours and Chris's faces grow red at her statement and he stands up.

"That's—this—we—"

"Save it," Karika says, peeking around the corner. "Your love life isn't my business, Chris, and you know that. I just like hearing the juicy details." She sticks out her tongue with a low ha before you hear a door shut and lock.

"She's going to sleep all day," Chris says, turning to you. "Um... Sorry I fell asleep here with you. I didn't mean—I was supposed to leave if you did, but I think—I think I just kind of passed out, I'm sorry."

You smile, your heart in your throat. "It's okay. Thank you for staying with me."

He smiles, easing up a little. "I don't mind it. Um... I guess I'll get going, then. Karika will take good care of you." His eyes grow serious as he takes you in, making your breath hitch. "Don't worry about whatever happened yesterday morning. If someone is after you, I'll keep you safe. You can trust me."

Speechless, you clutch your chest to will your heart to slow down, and nod. "Thank you."

He shakes his head. "Don't thank me," he laughs. "It's purely selfish."

With a wave, he grabs his bag and opens the door, shutting it behind him before you can ask him to clarify.

Purely selfish?

You clutch your clothes, realizing you're still wearing his jacket, his scent lingering with you. There's a pressing on your heart as you imagine him walking away from the apartment.

"Do you miss him already?"

You startle at Karika's voice as she leans against the protruding corner of the room that leads to the hallway, staring at the door just like you had been. A faint, sad smile tugs at her lips and she sighs deeply.

"Chris is a good guy. One of the best." She pauses. "I hope he's your happy ending, Cora. If not... you'll have a long journey ahead of you."

With that, she disappears back into her room, leaving you alone and afraid to face the questions plaguing your mind.

You take a deep breath and lay back on the couch, longing to go back to sleep, but the thoughts keep you awake.

It's going to be a long day.
Chapter 7

There's a knock on Karika's door and you stare at it, unsure if you should answer or not. Karika hasn't come out of her room since saying that stuff about Chris and you finally had enough of your brain so you decided to start reading Chris's book. It was really good and you were so wrapped up in it that the knocking startled you beyond reason.

You get up and peer out the peep-hole in hopes it's someone you know. To your relief, you see Oliver standing outside. You unlock the door and open it up. He looks surprised to see you there, unable to meet your eyes as he takes a step backward.

"Oh, sorry," he says, his cheeks turning red. "I didn't realize..." he trails off. "Is Karika home?"

You nod. "She got home this morning and has been sleeping all day."

"Oh," he says in his quiet tone. "That explains why she hasn't been answering my texts or calls. Sometimes she spends all night in the shop and then falls asleep in the storage room. It gets really cold in there, so I get worried about her."

You nod, curious. Is he really not interested in her like that?

"Can you let me know when she wakes up?" He asks with a small uncomfortable smile. He picks at the cuffs of his jacket nervously as you feel your brows pull together. Why does it seem like he's stepping on eggshells around you? "Or—tell her to let me know. Her dad asked me to take care of her if anything ever happened to him and I want to keep that promise."

You nod. "Sure."

He looks down and wraps his arms around his midsection, keeping himself warm, his face suddenly turning stone-like, no emotions seeping through. "So, uh, you seemed to spend a long time with Chris yesterday."

You nod again, not sure why he's bringing that up. Maybe it's because they're all so close in that club of theirs.

"Yeah, we went bowling."

He gives you a sad smile, and that pain on your chest just above your heart returns. You rub it with your thumb to try and ease it.

"Bowling's fun. Makes sense Chris would take you there. He loves it. We used to go all the time as a group, but we stopped going after Karika's dad's death. We even had a team name and everything, but we weren't official or anything..." he drifts off awkwardly, making you smile. His face is as red as his hair and he scuffs his shoe against the cement below. "Just... be careful of him. He gets attached super easily and takes things extremely serious." Oliver meets your eyes, that same stoniness reflected there. "I've seen him lose girls in his past because of how attached he gets and then he gets really depressed and throws himself into his books... He's a good guy, but... just be careful. If you like him, make sure you let him know, and that's the same if you don't. He falls hard and fast and that's dangerous sometimes."

You watch Oliver as that sense of confidence washes over him, just like it had when speaking with Karika in the storage room.

"Chris knows what he wants and he'll go and get it if he knows he can have it. If that's something you like..." He pauses, the wind ruffling his hair, making it even wilder than before. "Then be honest with him and he will never let you go."

Holding your gaze, he doesn't wane, and you place your hand on your chest, the organ beating loudly. You nod.

"Alright. Thank you."

He nods, moving his eyes away, his body language telling you the shy part of him has returned, and he begins to pick at his jacket again. He swallows and stands upright, shaking his head as he squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again.

You open your mouth, worried something about you has made him uncomfortable. "Are you—"

"You're welcome," he says, interrupting quietly. "Chris is a friend, but if he's seriously interested in you, I think it's fair you should know how he is when he gets around girls that are as... pretty... as..." he turns away, face beet-red as his jaw tightens and he frowns in frustration. "Um... I'm gonna go. Just let her know I was here, okay?"

He waves, not able to look at you, and you watch him hurriedly walk away, disappearing around the corner.

Your phone buzzes and you unlock it to read the message. You smile at Chris's nickname at the top of the screen, the one he put in your phone himself. So he does really like you, doesn't he? But how do you want to approach this situation? You aren't really in the position for a romance, but... if one forms...

In all honesty, you haven't eaten all day. But did you want to tell him that and have him worry? Not really, but...

Biting your lip, you take in a deep breath. You begin to type when the texts vanish, the app crashing. When you go back into it, your messages are empty. Even your contacts are void of any numbers.

Your phone begins to vibrate like crazy, a number flashing on the screen. Ice sifts through your veins and you stare at the red and green dots, your options to either take the call or hang up. Your gut twists inside you as you sit on the ground, staring. You could ignore it, hope it's just a wrong number, but... What if it's You Know?

You hastily press the green button and press the phone up to your ear, static on the other end. You hesitate before saying anything, breathing slowly to keep control in the situation.

More static.

"Hello?"

"Cora." Just like before, the voice is a whisper. It emerges from another burst of static; you can barely hear it at first. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

He grunts, as if in pain. You feel worry prick your heart.

"I freaked out when you said you didn't know who I was." Pause. "Were you serious?"

You swallow the saliva in your mouth, suddenly feeling as if you're in trouble. Obviously, you're supposed to know this person, but, of course, you don't remember.

"Yes."

There's a moment of silence on the other end, a bit of static.

He sighs.

"I guess it's for the best. Hold on."

You hear the sound of the phone moving, possibly bumping against fabric, and heavy footsteps and loud popping noises in the background. A hand flies to your mouth. Are those... Gunshots?

There's another tense moment as the sounds disappear and the static fills your ear. It falls away and you can hear You Know breathing heavily. He must be whispering because he's in a tight spot. But why is he in something like that? Were you wrapped up in it too?

"Look. However you lost your memory doesn't really matter right now. You're probably wondering what's going on and all that junk about your past." His whisper is fast and sharp, no doubts filling its sound. "Don't worry about all that. It's better that you don't remember it or... Or me. Stop using this phone. If I can track you with it, so can they, and since you're attached to me... Get rid of it. Throw it in some water or something and this will all be put behind you."

"What...?" You can't find the right words. "Are you... are we... are we in trouble? Was I kidnapped? Where am I supposed to be—where am I?"

"Cora, I can't answer any of those questions—"

"Please," you beg, desperate. "I woke up with this address and there was blood and I think—I think I had been kidnapped, and—"

You cut yourself off, your eyes filling with water as your throat closes. Panic swells inside you. The answers are within your grasp, but it's all up to this guy on the other end. You Know.

He groans. More footsteps.

"Look. Me talking to you on the phone like this is dangerous for the both of us. They got to you and that's why I couldn't come save you. I thought you were dead... Your blood..." he exhales heavily, your heart ripping inside of you.

Your blood? The image of the table you woke up beside shakes your bones.

"I should have never... Ugh—" he coughs, spitting something out just after. "Look. Stay there. If you're where I think you are, the people in that town are good folks. And... I'm sure you saw... my warning..." He grunts, his breathing growing shallow. You hang onto the phone tightly, fear clawing at your chest. "This will be the last time I ever talk to you. I've failed you and everyone that needed me. Get rid of this phone immediately after this call or they will track you down. And..." He wheezes. "Don't come looking for me."

There's more static and the phone cuts off. You let the device linger at your ear, overwhelming sadness and terror filling you to the brim. He sounded... He sounded like he was...

You shake your head, tears clinging to lashes. You don't even know him...

You wipe your eyes. He said get rid of the phone. Should you...?

Standing on shaky legs, your stomach churns inside as sickness washes through. Out in the cold, you wrap Chris's jacket tighter, lifting the hood over your head. Shutting the door behind you, you begin to make your way down the sidewalk, the bowling shoes you took stiff and not doing anything to keep your feet warm.

There's got to be a body of water around here, somewhere.

If you could just throw it into a river, or let it sink to the bottom of a lake...

You stop in front of a storm drain, phone in one hand, the other in Chris's jacket pocket. Squatting down, urgency catches in your throat. You Know said they would find you if you didn't throw the phone away or dispose of it somehow... but who are they? So many puzzle pieces are missing from your memory. For a moment, you wonder that if these people catch you, will your memory return? But is putting your life in that kind of danger worth possibly losing your life?

If that was your blood in that room... That means these people want to harm you. And the fact that You Know said he couldn't save you in time, that means you really were kidnapped, doesn't it?

Your phone vibrates in your hand, a number you don't recognize appearing on the screen and you unlock it.

You read the words quickly, not able to help the twinge of sadness that works through you as another message comes through.

You take a deep breath and quickly type out an apology.

Turning off the phone for good, you let it tumble into the storm drain, hearing the crack and pop of it landing. Your chest aches as you stand, staring at the hole in the ground. You wonder if there was anything you could have done to keep yourself from getting kidnapped and junk, but... there's no way for you to know what kind of person you were, or even who You Know is as long as your memory is hidden from you. Whatever you did before yesterday, you hope it will all go away quietly without dragging you back into it all over again.

With a shaky breath you walk away, unaware of the predicament you're about to get everyone else into because of your past... and his.
Chapter 8

You can't focus. Ever since You Know said the things he did over the phone, you haven't been able to relax. Thoughts plague your mind, and it doesn't help that you're alone with nothing to distract you. You could read, and you tried, but you couldn't focus and ended up rereading one of the pages about five times before giving up.

If you could be tracked by using the phone, then why haven't the people who have been looking for you found you yet? You'd been using it all day yesterday. Plus, You Know kept calling and texting you. Not often, but still, he did. Was he tracking you, too? Is that how he knew you could be tracked?

That can't necessarily be it, you tell yourself, your fingers caught in your hair. It's easy to track people now with the kind of phones we have, isn't it? Location services always on, posts on social media tagging where you are... It's not hard to track someone down. You didn't even think to look into your settings and edit them as you always used to do to keep your privacy protected as much as possible.

You sit up at yet another small recollection of who you were. So you would go through your phone and make sure your privacy was protected. You were cautious and knew a bit about technology, but would that help you in any way? It's not like a memory, more like a spurt of truth about who you used to be.

You take a shaky breath in and slump into the expensive couch. If anyone knew what lied behind the door, you're sure Karika would be a frequent victim of robbery.

Karika's bedroom door opens and she storms out, her tired face angry.

"Is there a reason Chris is blowing up my phone?"

Her accusational glare is mixed with an angry tone as you wince.

"I had to throw my phone away. Apparently I can be tracked by whoever took me, so... I... got rid of it."

Her eyes seem to soften but her face doesn't do the same. Tossing the phone onto the couch next to you, she yawns and makes her way to the kitchen.

"Since I'm up, you want a sandwich or something?"

"I'm sorry for indirectly waking you up," you apologize sheepishly, standing up and following her into the kitchen where the appliances are shiny and expensive-looking.

She scowls. "You'd better be. Now call that boy back before he has an aneurism."

You nod and click on his name. The phone automatically begins to ring and you hold it to your ear. He picks up right away.

"Karika, where is she?"

"It's me," you say. "Sorry I said that so suddenly."

"Oh—are you... are you okay?"

You take a deep breath. He seems to be saying that a lot to you. "Yeah. You Know called again. He said I could be tracked and told me to get rid of the phone. Turns out that I was kidnapped and... am involved in some kind of trouble with You Know or something. He..." your throat closes. "I think... He called me and he sounded like he was saying goodbye."

There's silence on Chris's side of the phone. Then, "I'm so sorry."

You shake your head, looking up at Karika, who's eyeing you over the island where she's making two sandwiches. At a loss for words, you're glad Chris begins to speak again.

"Was he worried these people were already pursuing you? Or that they were close? Did they track you down yet?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He didn't say anything else about it. It is kind of weird he wasn't worried about it until this last call, though. He'd texted and called before... I wonder if something changed." You're talking to yourself at this point, trying to understand the situation. Karika continues to watch you between her creating, taking in your every word. Her hands work swiftly on the bread and she finishes just as Chris speaks again.

"If they have, then it's probably not safe for you anywhere. I'm going to head over there. Karika may have guns but she's still just a girl."

He makes a sound.

"I mean—not that that makes her weak or anything." He scolds himself. "Sorry. I'm just... I'm worried about you two and I don't want anything happening." Breathing out, he speaks again. "I'm going to let the other three guys know. Max probably won't answer right away, but at least he'll know too. Peter will probably head over too, and I know Oliver will be at Karika's door immediately to try and protect the both of you."

You nod. "Thank you, but I think we're okay for right now. Don't worry. Besides, I don't think she's in the greatest of moods."

You look up at Karika to confirm and she smirks, handing you a plate.

"Got that right, chickadee."

You follow her to the table and sit down, putting Chris on speakerphone and setting it beside you.

"But still. The two of you—"

"Look, Chris," Karika interrupts. "Everything's going to be fine. Stop being so unlike yourself and calm down. You're normally so good in stressful situations."

Chris groans. "Karika, give me back to Cora."

"You're on speaker," she grins, a playful glint in her eye. "So if you're going to confess your love to Cora, you'll have to do it in front of an audience."

"Karika, seriously? I'm just worried for the two of you—"

"Uh-huh," she says through a laugh, biting into her sandwich. "While Cora's here, she's perfectly safe. I have guns and knives hidden everywhere, so there's nowhere that isn't safe."

"Unless the people who are trying to get in get ahold of them."

Karika weighs this for a moment. "Touché. But my argument is still valid. We're fine and we will be fine."

She swallows her bite.

"And hey. Don't be thinking we're weak or anything because we're girls. I know we're built differently and back then the guys would protect the girls, but we're good. My dad taught me well."

With that, she presses the end button and takes another bite of her sandwich. She can't fight her grin.

"He'll call back in a second. Don't answer it."

Sure enough, the phone begins to buzz again.

"So, like I said, there are weapons all over this house if you need one. They're strapped under things and some are inside loose floor boards." She licks her fingers and starts on the other half of her food. "My dad was into some sketchy business and told me I have to protect myself if I'm ever by myself and someone recognizes me as his daughter. He taught me about fighting and guns growing up, but I never took it seriously. I thought it was all stupid and believed the world was all unicorns and rainbows." She snorts. "Protecting yourself with guns and knives is the only answer for people like me in a family like mine, but that's all it should be used for: protection and self-defense. Mmm—and hunting, too."

You nod, curiosities rising. "What did your dad do?"

She grins. "Tell you what. I'll tell you the second time you ask me that very question."

You can almost see the question mark drifting up over your head. "What? Then, can't I just ask you again right now?"

She shakes her head. "You'll know what I mean later. Maybe. I really hope you don't, but if you do, just show or tell me where my favorite gun is, okay?"

She stands to put her plate in the sink and you stare at her, dumbfounded.

"What?"

She barks a laugh at your question and leans against the sink, crossing her arms.

"Do you want to know where it is, or what?"

Not really sure what exactly is going on, you get up and follow her, leaving the buzzing phone on the table, along with the rest of your sandwich.

She leads you into her bedroom and closes the door. Beside the knob, she presses a small button and you hear a soft pop come from the other side of the room. She strides over to her closet and reaches behind a large assortment of brightly colored clothing, waving you over. A piece of the wall has opened, a short-barreled ivory-colored gun in the pocket.

"It was specially made for my dad before he passed away. It has a bit of a kick, but that's to be expected."

She shuts it and exits the closet, closing it behind her.

"What... I don't understand your choice of words. Or your request," you admit, your head spinning. "You keep saying things that feel so cryptic—"

There's a knock at the door, grating a groan from Karika. You are unable to finish your sentence as she shouts, "Coming!" and exits the room.

You shake your head, following her out and shutting the door.

"Chris! I told you not to come over!"

Your ears perk up at his name and you try to stop yourself from rushing into the living room.

"No, actually, you didn't."

"Come on, you were with her all day yesterday. She's going to grow tired of you."

You hear him laugh as you walk out of the hallway. Karika has him trapped at the door, refusing to let him in.

"Who could get tired of this face?"

She rolls her eyes, eyes that catch onto yours at the very end of their parabola, and she shakes her head. Was she telling you to be quiet?

"Honestly, Chris, your face isn't that special. Get over yourself before she realizes what a narcissist you are."

He snorts, clearly offended. "Yeah, because that snob Peter isn't one at all, is he?"

You swear you hear her growl at Peter's name. "Shut up. I can't help it. He's the one I chose and I can't change it. It's a good thing you aren't the jealous type."

What is this sting you feel in your heart? Are you jealous? So Chris really did have a thing for Karika, and... did she have a thing for him at one time?

Karika grits her teeth at Chris's silence and takes a step forward, muttering something under her breath. You can barely hear what she says, but you assume she's telling him to get lost as she slams the door and leans against it, arms crossed and fingers tapping on her forearm. She seems to be lost in thought before snapping upright and striding to the kitchen and opening the fridge. She pulls out a carton of eggs and sets it on the counter, grabbing her jacket from beside the door and throwing it on. She returns to the kitchen and grabs the eggs, clearly angry. She stops, opening the door, to look at you, and sighs.

"Go change. Use my clothes. Pick out whatever you want and wear a pair of my shoes."

You stiffen. "Uh—are you sure?"

"I'm sure those shoes aren't comfortable at all and you've been wearing those clothes for two days now, probably, right? If you need to take a shower, do that too." She looks down at her eggs. "I guess I can wait."

She reluctantly puts the eggs back into the fridge and sits down on the couch, turning on the TV and putting on a show.

"You have forty-five minutes. Don't waste them and get prettied up. Open the bathroom window when you're finished so the steam can get out."

You watch her for a moment, hesitating, and then nod.

"The towels are under the sink and I have tons of underwear and stuff I haven't used yet, so just pick from one of the packages. Don't be shy." She finally looks at you, a sparkle in her eye. "Oh! And Chris really likes when girls dress girly. He can't help it. The more flowers on your clothes, the better. I mean, that is if you want to have his full attention."

A guile smile spreads across her mouth and she turns back to her show, a blush creeping over your cheeks as you remind yourself of what you're wearing. Very floral, as if you meant to draw him to you. What are the odds?

"Of course, you don't have to wear those kinds of clothes. Wear whatever you want. I'm sure he'll fall head-over-heels for you in whatever you wear. He doesn't care too much for looks, anyway, even though it seems like it."

You nod and retreat into her bedroom, your eyes resting on the button. You totally have to ask her about what she meant with everything she's said so far. The butterfly, the 'wrinkle', the gun...

"Ugh, you're so weird," you mutter aloud as you rummage through her clothes. You can't help but pull out a shirt with a floral design, face turning hot as you remind yourself that you're wanting to wear this for you, not for a guy. You aren't convinced, though.

You find a pair of jeans that don't look like they'll be too tight on you and grab a pair of plain, partially lacy underwear from an unopened package. She doesn't have any other ordinary underwear... Which sucks because you feel like you're dressing up and you don't want to feel that way.

You clear your throat and make a beeline for the bathroom, locking the door behind you and easily finding the towels. After about five minutes of trying to figure out her shower, you take a good thirty to let the warm water flow over you. It feels so nice, so soothing. You get out and change, finding the clothes are a tiny bit big, but that's fine. You don't really like tightly fitting clothes anyway.

You chuckle at yourself for finding something else out about yourself. The pattern seems so random and sudden. Which is fine, considering you can't remember anything anyway.

As you open the bathroom door, you hear a window break. Karika shouts, cursing loudly, and you hear her run across the living room. She appears before the front door, the hallway next to it a straight-shot to where you stand, dumbfounded. Her eyes catch on yours, irises alight with a wildness you haven't seen in her yet. She lifts a finger to her lips as she pulls a loose floorboard up. From it, she produces two long daggers and stands, ready for a fight.

"Why are you here?"

You hear a low chuckle.

"We're here to collect a debt. We traced a suddenly active phone signal back to this area. That wouldn't be from you, would it?"

A hand flies to your mouth as you stand, frozen, watching your new friend from across the hall. She grimaces and raises her weapons.

Are they talking about you?

Tears leap to your eyes and you're stuck in place.

"I have no idea what you mean, but you need to leave right now. These pretty things aren't just for show."

The daggers gleam in the light from the windows as she repositions them.

"Whoa, we don't want any trouble."

"Then leave, before I give you a heaping pot of it."

The guy chuckles. There's a brief pause.

"Do you know who this is?"

You see a phone held up in front of Karika, her breath catching in her throat.

"He—you're who made him—"

"Indeed," the man chuckles.

Karika's jaw clenches and she surges forward.

There's a gunshot.

She slumps to the ground.
Chapter 9

Your stomach churns and ice fills your veins. Karika's body is still, lifeless.

"This should be enough, I think," the gruff voice says. Before he walks around the corner, you duck deeper into the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"Check the rest of the house. Make sure no one else is here."

Quickly, you hop up onto the counter and slip out the window, praying you won't make too loud of a sound. You stand on shaky legs and sprint into town, hoping you're heading in the right direction, grasping for straws as tears blind you. Somehow... somehow you make it into town, finding Karika's shop. You pull and tug at the doors, trying to get in. Maybe one of the guys are inside, waiting for Karika to return. It looked like that's where she was going to go, right? Where else would she take the eggs but to her kitchen at the shop?

You breathe shallowly, your head pounding. A few doors down is the coffee shop you and Chris had gone into, and you sprint in, your bare feet freezing. You rush in and up to the counter; the person behind the register shaken by your suddenness.

"I need a phone," you tell her, tears swelling in your eyes as Karika's lifeless body replays in your mind. "I need to call the police."

The girl sputters and nods, pulling her phone out of her green apron and hands it to you. Pressing the lock button a few times, the phone automatically routes to an emergency line.

You fill them in on the details as they tell you to calm down and it'll be alright. They ask you the address and you shake your head.

"I'm—I'm not sure. I was staying the night at her apartment. It's... Um... Ugh, I don't remember. The number... it was... seven... oh-three. The apartments are painted green and the doors are white."

"Okay. Police are on their way. Please stay where you are at that coffee shop and the police will be there shortly. It's alright. Would you like to stay on the phone with me until they arrive?"

You look around the café, people watching you with worried faces.

"No, that's okay. I think I'm safe. I'll be here at the coffee shop. Thank you."

"Alright. Stay put. They'll be there shortly."

You hang up and thank the girl behind the counter.

"Are—are you okay?" she asks. "I'm so sorry about your friend—" she stops herself, unable to say more. You nod and speak nothing as you make your way to a booth and tuck your knees to your chest, everything inside of you stuck. Tears stay present on your lower lid and don't fall, your core shaking. Over and over, the scene plays in your mind. Karika... is she dead? If she isn't... did you leave her without a second thought?

You bury your head in your knees and breathe slowly.

"Here," you hear, the voice gentle. The girl who let your use your phone sets a coffee down in front of you with a gentle smile. "It's on the house."

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice weak. You lower your knees and wrap your fingers around the cup, the warmth making your fingers loosen slightly.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need to use my phone again to call anyone you know?"

You shake your head. Not wanting to get into the spiel about your amnesia, you give her a small reassuring smile.

"That's okay. Thank you though."

She nods, not fully convinced, and walks away. Eyes keep looking your direction and you watch the window, waiting for the police to show up and question you, when a familiar face walks in.

"Cora," he says, striding over and placing his phone in his pocket after typing something in, obviously surprised to find you here. "Chris was worried about you and Karika. He said he couldn't get ahold of either of you and decided to check the shop."

Peter sits down in front of you and your heart shatters. The dam breaks and your tears flow down your face. Peter watches you with wide eyes, unsure of how to react in this situation as you cover your eyes with your hands, embarrassed you're crying, but it feels good.

"What happened?" He asks suddenly, standing up to go sit beside you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulls you close, sputtering out sounds as if he's trying to comfort you and doesn't know what exactly to say to help.

You sit up and wipe your eyes and your nose, Chris's jacket accidentally becoming a snot rag. A pang of guilt shoots through you.

"Karika," you start, your voice breaking as another sob breaks through.

"Cora?"

Your eyes snap up to the door as Chris enters, sees you crying, and rushes over, leaning over the table to look at you as he shoots a quick glare in Peter's direction.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

You breathe out as Peter removes his arm from around you, irritation plain as day in his face, but he masks it with his concern he feels toward you.

"I was coming out of the bathroom when someone broke in. The... They shot her."

The last few words come out of your throat choked and a new deluge of tears washes through you and tumbles down your cheeks as you bury your face.

"I couldn't do anything. I escaped out the window. The cops said they'd be here in a bit."

"Hey, Peter, can I sit there?"

You look up at the boys, Chris staring impateintly at an unenthused Peter.

"You're the most obvious man on the planet," he mutters as he slides out of the booth, Chris taking his place. Peter sits down across from you, staring at nothing, obviously annoyed as he presses down the emotions from what you'd said about Karika.

"Karika, she was... shot?"

Chris's voice is shaky as he sits next to you.

"Figures," Peter says coolly.

"What?" Chris snaps, losing his cool as he turns to Peter. "What do you mean? How can you be so numb?"

"Shut up, Chris," Peter snaps, lowering his voice. "Karika's dad was into some shady business. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about it. They were probably people her dad screwed over."

Chris hesitates, looking vacantly at Peter.

"What?"

Peter rolls his eyes, seeming uninterested, but you can see that spark of sadness and shock in his irises. He can't believe it, either.

"So he didn't talk to you about any of it. I'm surprised Karika didn't, either."

Chris's lips press into a straight line. "No, he did... a little bit. He told me some things, but... but he... he was so nice and... he was like a dad to me, I..."

Chris places his head in his hands, staring at the table with wide eyes. You watch him, pulled away from the reality of the situation for a moment. You want to help him...

"Who could it have been, though?" Chris asks, full attention on Peter's blank face. "I don't believe he would have done that... What could he have done...? Who could it have been?"

Peter only stares back at Chris, a war raging in his eyes.

"There's a long list," he says coolly. "But that's not for me to share."

He sits back in his seat as Chris's temper spikes.

"Then who's going to tell me?" Chris asks, slamming his hand on the table, startling people nearby and nearly knocking over the free coffee that nice girl gave you. You grab it, keeping it upright.

You close your eyes and breathe.

"Calm down, Chris," Peter says sternly. "Cora just witnessed our friend's death. This isn't the time to be getting angry at each other."

There's a slight pause as Chris's gaze switches to you, sadness swelling in his eyes. He looks down, clearly feeling guilty for his outbursts.

"Hey," he says, touching your shoulder. His eyes water and he shakes his head. "I'm... I'm glad you're okay."

You breathe slowly, unable to keep the image of Karika dropping to the ground out of your mind. You want to believe she made it out alive, but... The pessimism is too thick to get through.

Chris reaches out and touches your hand, loosening your grip around the coffee cup. You look up at him and he gives you a sad smile, taking in a deep breath. You release the cup and squeeze his fingers, leaning into him and closing your eyes, willing the tears to stay inside.

The cops eventually arrive and speak with you, getting your statement and telling you and the two boys that Karika's body hasn't been found and they'll keep looking for her. This warrants tears from you and Chris, and Peter walks out of the coffee shop. You don't see him for the rest of the day.

Chris takes you to his apartment and you sit on the couch, silent. You have nothing more to say. You feel numb. Empty.

Chris makes food at one point, but you aren't hungry. She died... right in front of you...

You hold your knees to your chest and try to push it away. Eventually, you lay down and fall asleep, the sound of the television droning on in the background. Chris went to his room, telling you to come get him if you needed anything or wanted to talk any more.

When you wake up, the sun is setting, the brightness cutting through the window, trying to warm your cold, trembling heart. Beneath your head is a pillow, and a blanket covers your body, Chris's scent filling your senses. He must have given you these after you passed out.

You walk over to his door and knock softly, not hearing any response. The rest of the small apartment is empty, so he must be there. Unless he left.

There's a sense of fear you feel at that thought, the fear to be alone in this state.

"Chris?" You call, opening the door slightly. "Hey, I was thinking of making something as a thanks..."

You open the door some more to see him asleep on his bed, his pillow and blanket missing. He moves slightly, bringing his legs up near his chest. He must be cold...

You shuffle back into the living room and grab the pillow and blanket, feeling guilty, and reenter his room. It's a bit messier than the living room. Lived-in, like you said before.

Gently, you place the pillow beside him and pull the blanket over his shoulder, trying to stay as quiet as possible so that you don't wake him.

"Cora?"

He says your name quietly, his hand lifting and gently taking ahold of your wrist gently. You stare down at him, his eyes half-open and filled with exhaustion. They're red... Did he cry himself to sleep?

"Hey," you whisper. "You looked cold."

A sleepy smile quirks at the edge of his mouth. "So did you."

"Are you okay?" You ask. The question has been said so many times the past two days... It's strange to hear it coming from your own mouth.

"Would it be too much to ask you to lay with me?" His whisper makes your heart jump. "I don't... I don't have the strength to get up, and... I don't want to leave here. Karika... she's..." he curls in his lips and lets out a sad sigh, bringing your hand closer to his body. "Is it too selfish to ask you to stay for a little bit here with me?"

You bite your lip and eventually nod with a soft, "Okay", to which his face brightens the slightest, the sadness becoming more transparent on his face. He pulls you close as you lay next to him, and he sniffles, tangling his hand in your hair, his other one around your waist, holding you close as his frame trembles with mourning. Your forehead is against his chest and your own sadness washes through you, your heart confused at the happiness it's feeling toward Chris's embrace.

"Thank you," he whispers.

You look up at him, a tear falling off the bridge of his nose. His hand releases your waist and touches your chin, lifting it, helping you get a better view of him.

"When things this sad happen... I don't think I need to be alone. So thank you for not letting me be."

Before you can reply, he moves closer to you and gently presses his lips against yours, your veins filling with fire and your face growing hot. You breathe him in, the sadness disappearing for a moment as the two of you share this intimate moment. He pulls back and you're left staring at him in the waning sunlight. He's able to let a small smile push through, eyes glistening.

"Sorry," he blushes. "I just... wanted to thank you properly."

You duck away from his gaze, pressing your forehead against his chest once again, your heart going crazy in your chest, the sadness making it beat harder than before.

He chuckles ruefully to himself.

"Sorry. Bad timing, I know, but..." You feel him shrug slightly. He exhales. "I have no excuse. Just forget it."

You shake your head. "It's okay. I'm not bothered by it."

Again, too much honesty makes your face hotter than it already was. He wraps his arm around you and holds you tight. You can feel the smile in his voice as he says, "I'm glad."

The two of you lay there for what seems like an eternity. He falls asleep, but you're still wide awake, kept up by your mind. You watch him as he slumbers, his face relaxed and handsome... He's grown handsomer over the past two days and you aren't sure if it's your heart's doing or human nature.

There's a flutter against the window, drawing your attention over his shoulder. You sit up slightly, his arms pulling you closer as he stretches a bit, and then releases when he relaxes again. Out the window, a butterfly flutters, clinging to the window pane. You can barely see the outline of its wings, and it catches your attention.

Its wings are like glass.
Chapter 10

You know what my favorite bug is?

Karika's voice visits you as the butterfly flutters, catching itself as the wind tries to blow it away.

There's this butterfly. It's called a Glasswing Butterfly. Its wings are transparent and it's absolutely stunning. It's rare, and only lives in certain parts of the world. It isn't supposed to be here in the U.S., but... I've seen it. Quite a few times, actually, but, for the past year, I haven't. I thought it died. And lately, I've been thinking about it... and I think it lived. I think that maybe it was just waiting until someone could see it again.

A chill rushes through you and you catch your breath, suddenly cold.

I really, really hope that you never see it.

Not able to shake her words, you remove yourself from Chris's arms. He mutters something under his breath, still dreaming. You stand and walk over to the window just as the butterfly drops to the world below, and you watch as it lands on a flower on the first floor.

Wrapping Chris's jacket around you, you exit his small apartment and run barefooted down the stairs, looking for the flower and the butterfly. Just as you near it, it flits away. You curse at yourself for wanting to follow it, but do it anyway.

You don't follow it for long before you end up in a cemetery, an eerie sense of familiarity falling over you. The butterfly settles on a tombstone, one with something stained on the top of it.

Walking over, you see that it's a dark red.

Red like blood.

You stumble forward as a memory surfaces.

You're sitting in front of this tombstone, phone clutched in your dirty hands. Footsteps are getting closer, crunching on the dead leaves. You place a hand over your mouth to keep your breathing quiet.

Your phone vibrates, fear lacing across your body. What if they see the light coming from it?

You type in the response, Okay. Please hurry, and close your eyes, pressing and holding the lock button to turn the phone off. As soon as you're able to push the red circle across the screen, you stuff the phone in your pants pocket and pull the hood up over your head, praying the man doesn't find you.

And then, a hand tangles in your hair, pulling you from your spot.

You struggle to breathe as you're thrust back into the present, the graveyard bathed in the lights of sunset. However, as pretty as it may seem, the long shadows cast over the rolling ground in an ominous way, the wind picking up and sending a chill down your spine.

The butterfly lifts off from the stone and into the air. Not even a moment later, a bird swoops down and catches it in its claws.

Your hand flies to your mouth. An unexplainable whimper escapes your throat as you watch the bird carry it away to eat.

I really, really hope that you never see it.

Karika's words come back to haunt you again as the wind howls around you. Could this... Could this be your blood?

You look around you and find a sea foam jacket cast aside, hidden in a patch of tall grass, the one from your memory. It's sea-foam green and ripped in strange places. A big chunk of it is stained in red... But it couldn't be yours. You don't have any cuts or scrapes on you. The jacket might have been yours in your memory, but it could be a popular one. It could have been something from someone else's sad, terrible ending... It couldn't be yours. You are uninjured. It couldn't be yours... It just couldn't.

You stumble backwards, falling on your butt, your breathing shallow. You're immobilized as you stare at the jacket. Why has no one found this, yet? Why has no one reported it?

You jerk forward and grab the jacket. The blood is dry.

Rummaging through the pockets, you feel the crinkle of a paper and pull it out, a note with a string of words written down on it.

Buddy,

If you're reading this, it means you came back to this place. Duh. Of course. Stupid me.

Look, I know you said you lost your memories. I left your jacket here in hopes you'll find your way back, somehow. I know I said don't come looking for me, but... I can't help but wish you would. I don't have much time left. They're coming for me. I just wish I could tell you in person how I feel about you, how I've always felt, but... you don't even remember who I am.

This wound hurts a lot. I'll probably be gone by the time you find this letter. If you find it. Yeah. If. Funny how sentimental you get when your life is almost finished.

I broke my end of the deal and you're the one who is paying the consequences. How superhero of me, right?

Even if you don't remember it, I'm glad we had the time together that we did. I'm going to miss talking on the phone with you... but I guess it doesn't really matter since you don't remember and since... I'll be gone in a few hours.

I was supposed to say goodbye quickly when I deleted everything on the phone. And then I thought I could talk you into remembering me when I called you again today... But it turns out I couldn't. I shouldn't have.

I hope they never find you and I hope you get your memories back. I hope you remember me as who I always was to you: your best friend. But I don't deserve that privilege. Please do the world a favor and never remember me.

This is my last and final goodbye. The letter's gotten too long already and I'm getting super depressed, which isn't helping my owwie. Lol.

Ugh. I just wrote lol in a letter. What has this world become?

Goodbye forever, Cora. Ha. The optimist inside me wants to tell you where I'll be, but I can't. Not unless I want to get you reinvolved with all of this, and I can't do that to you. Not to you.

I love you. I honestly do and I always have and I will until my last breath.

Which will be soon.

Goodbye, Cora.

I hope you live a good life.

  * Your Buddy.

Tears for a person you've never had the privilege to actually meet after you lost your memory swell in your eyes and you collapse back onto your feet, your hand muffling the sobs trying to pull out of you. The sadness doubles as the death of Karika plays on your mind, the guilt eating you alive. Was it your fault that he died too? Was this all your fault? Could you have saved either of them? Both of them? Were they within your grasp and you made a wrong decision, a wrong turn?

Sobs rip from you. You don't know who you are. You don't know who these people who have come into your life are. Everything is blank and you're at a loss for words as to what you can do about it. You feel helpless, stuck, and you don't know where to go. You aren't sure if you're around any family, if you even liked your family, and you have no idea where you live.

The letter crumples in your hand as you hold it close to your chest. You wonder if maybe you can find him. If he's injured, he couldn't have gotten far. Could you get to him in time and get him to a hospital?

You stand, desperately searching for someone, anyone in the world around you.

If you can't carry or drag him, maybe you can rush back to Chris—but how did you get here, exactly? Could you find your way to Chris and back to the graveyard before he drifts away?

You rush over to the border of the cemetery, looking by and around the gates, checking behind each tombstone to look for someone.

There's not a soul in sight.

You run around the edge of the lot, continuing to search, calling out for someone to answer you. Eventually, you get out of the gate, the world around you growing darker as the sun begins to disappear, and you search the trees, the lots. You come across a bridge and look beneath it, hoping that maybe someone was hiding out there, but there's nothing. No one.

Panting, you stand beneath a flickering street light on the bridge, the long shadows turning into a blanket of darkness as the moon peeks out from behind a few clouds. The temperature has dropped a lot, and you're sure Chris is probably looking for you now, worrying.

You exhale, turning back toward the direction you came, where the cemetery is. You make your way toward it, shivering from the cold, when two voices send chills down your spine and make you stop in your tracks.

"Her body wasn't found. She disappeared when we went to clean up the room."

Your breath hitches. Did you stumble upon a conversation about... you?

No way...

"I thought the other guys cleaned it up and took her with them."

"Man, I thought so too, but they said they don't know anything about it. Someone did go into the room, though. The window was open."

"You idiot," the second voice grunts, sounding closer than before. You duck behind a house, trying not to step on anything that will give away your location. "Maybe she wasn't really dead and escaped through the window."

"Yeah, but I don't see how she could have survived that."

"Hey!"

A bright light falls upon you and you jump. Someone with a flashlight is running toward you. You hold in a cry and sprint, darting through the open back gate of the cemetery, the one you'd left open earlier, and sprint past the spot you found your jacket, leaving it behind.

"Hey! That's her!"

Gunshots.

You scream this time, ducking down behind a large gravestone while you wait for the firing to stop and get back up again, feet pounding on the street. To the right is the direction you came from, from Chris's apartment, but you can't lead whoever's chasing you there.

You take off the other way, hearing the men you'd left behind cursing under their breath.

You dart into an alleyway, slamming into something big and soft. Falling to your butt, you scramble up, a chuckle resonating to your ears. Before you stands Chubby and Malnourished from the first day, the two guys who'd cornered you. You grimace and turn to run, but chubby grabs you by your elbow and pulls you to him. You grit your teeth and drive your knee into his crotch, forcing him to let go as he howls.

"Don't touch me," you growl, exiting the alley and trying to figure out where to run. The men are standing at the other end of the street, looking around them as they head in your direction. You take a breath and head toward Karika's house, hopefully headed the right way. If you can get to her weapons, maybe you can protect yourself should they corner you.

You remind yourself that Chris said she leaves her key under a rock in the front.

"There!" you hear them, and dart into another alley, keeping track of where you are at all times. You hear them follow you and burst back out into the town, realizing two of them had been waiting for you at the other end.

Fear claws your throat as you back up to dart back into another alleyway, but you notice the guys who followed are catching up to you.

You panic.

"The boss isn't gonna like that you're still alive," the guy leading the other three in the alley spits, almost black eyes glinted with murderous intent. "But at least we can find a good use for you."

One of the two that had been waiting for you grabs you roughly by the back of your neck and one of your wrists, tugging at your hair. You grit your teeth at the sudden pain setting your scalp on fire, the right side of your neck exposed. His filthy breath caresses your skin and he chuckles. "If you can't, I sure can."

You buck against his weight, wishing you had something on your body to arm you, like Karika did. Karika...

"The boss told him to drop off the face of the earth, but look at what he dug up from his past. You're proof he knew what he did was wrong. Wonder what he was planning to do with you," the guy in the alley says, walking close to you and pushing the cold end of his gun against your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eye is missing, an eyepatch covering it instead. Thick black hair falls to his back beneath a fedora, waving in the wind, crow's feet clawing at his eyes. He's no spring chicken. "Amateurs."

Hitting your chin with the barrel of his gun, you stumble to the side. You don't fall, though, Nasty catching you, his greasy blonde hair comes down to his high collar, his light brown eyes filled with disgusting emotions that make you cower beneath his gaze.

Your brain stops spinning and you stand upright, staring the long-haired guy down, fighting the trembling inside you. If the blonde guy wasn't holding you up, you'd crumble to the ground and get lost in the tsunami of helplessness that is flooding your bones.

How did everything get so bad, so fast?

The fedora guy lifts a phone to his ear.

"We found her, boss. What do you want us to do to her?"

To you?

Your knees give out and they hit the ground, ripping your borrowed jeans open and biting into your skin. Nasty pulls you up roughly as Fedora glares at you, scrutinizing.

He lifts the gun to your forehead, looking into your eyes with no emotion playing on his features.

"Understood."

He pulls the trigger.
To be continued in...

Replay: Reboot

Book 2

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this new series. I have some big ideas for it. There are so many things that need answers in this book and I'm looking forward to answering each one in detail. Thanks again!

\- K.

