It's midnight, and my mind won't sleep. 

The images of where my mother could be, what she's doing, what she may be thinking... They haunt me like a demon hiding invisible in the corner. 

Each time my eyes close, there she is, caked blood on her temple, crimson veins popping from her eyes from sleepless nights. 

I can't sit still any longer, I won't sit still. 

Let's get to work. 

I spring up from the bed, my bare feet smacking against the wooden floor boards, the long t-shirt I found hanging on my body, landing somewhere between my thighs and the floor. 

I reach the hall, my mind set, and my hands curled into fists. 

I reach Luka's door, and with a fist, bang as loud as I can.

"Up Up Up!" I shout, my voice scraping against the previous silence of the hour. 

I hear a groan from the other side, and a creak. 

"Vamos!" I shout one of the only spanish words I know. 

"Jesus, gringita, voy a matarte." I hear from the other side, but I smirk, knowing he's up. 

"Downstairs, two minutes. Let's go!" 

I race down the stairs, reaching Roman's room. As my fist is about to slam onto the wooden door it swings open, revealing a disheveled and groggy Roman, his face covered with a scruffy six o'clock shadow. 

"It's too dark to be doing work, you damn vampire." He groans, and wheels out of the room, shoving a cigarette between his lips and following me to the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

I hoist myself up onto the counter, my legs swinging off the edge. 

I wait for a moment, waiting for the sound of Luka's footsteps. Hearing nothing, frustrated, I jump down from the counter, and begin to hoist myself up the steps, reaching the landing, and nearly colliding with a very half-naked Luka. 

He smells of cologne and ash as I look up at his face, which is covered in red lines from his pillow. 

He looks so young, and so very annoyed. 

"Dios, Katya, you're lucky I didn't have my gun, because I thought the knocks on the door were gunshots for a moment." 

Wow, good morning to you too. 

I swirl around, heading back down to the kitchen and returning to my place on the island. 

Luka shuffles over, slapping Roman on the shoulder good-naturedly and flinging open the fridge, grabbing the orange juice and swigging. 

I begin to fidget, picking at my finger nails absently. 

"Out with it, Kate, or I'm going to pass out right here." Roman mumbles, exhaling the smoke into my face. 

I wave my hand in front of me, frowning down at him in disdain. 

"You two know Marcel and Iago the best, and you know how they work." I state, wringing my hands together with nerves. 

"I don't know what to do, or how to do that, but I know that if I sit here in this house doing nothing to help my mother I'm going to go crazy." I begin ranting, my words spewing out like bullets from a machine gun. 

"I know that she's alive, but knowing that is almost worse because I don't know where or what state she's in." 

Luka and Roman are both staring at me blankly, Roman's cigarette hanging on his thick bottom lip and Luka's hands grasping the carton of orange juice like a lifeline. 

"What do we do?" I ask, desperately, throwing my hands up. My adrenaline from earlier is fading and now frustration and tears come in its place. 

"Don't cry don't cry." I hiss at myself, pressing the bottoms of my palms against my eyes, and shaking my head. 

"I can't sit here, I can't be useless!" I snap, lifting my head and jumping, as Luka is only about a foot away from me, looking down at me in an unreadable way. 

"We're not going to be useless anymore." He whispers, his voice like a soft breeze against my skin. 

"Roman, call Rafael and Evan. They're the most simple minded of the bunch. Bring them here and we'll get them to talk." He turns to Roman, a determined gleam in his eye. 

Roman nods and wheels to the side phone, picking it up and dialing a few numbers. 

"Rafael, put Evan on el teléfono." He begins speaking rapidly in Spanish, shouting several words, and then shutting the phone. 

"They're arriving in thirty. I hope you know what you're doing, Luka."

"We'll see, Cortez." 

I can practically see the gears and wheels turning in his mind. 

~

"I am not dressing up as a whore again, Luka." I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"It's either this or nothing, gringita. Maybe nudity will distract them from seeing your face." 

"Why don't I just hide?" I suggest, pacing back and forth, my still bare feet on the wood. 

"Please stop moving, Katya, you're making me dizzy." Luka places a hand over his temple and shakes his head. 

"I think it's called a hangover." I snap, placing my hands on my hips. "You weren't exactly sober last night." 

We both freeze, staring at each other, but his face holds confusion. 

"Last night? What happened?" He asks. 

"You don't remember anything?" I pause, rubbing one of my arms nervously. 

He shakes his head, and I try to find any sign of lying. He's so impossible to read it's infuriating. 

I don't know whether to be aggravated or relieved. Or offended. 

"No, nothing happened." I whisper finally, looking at my feet. 

"What happened?" He presses me, stepping towards me slowly. 

"Nothing." I snap, stepping away from him sideways. 

He stares down at me, but before he can say anything, I take away that chance. 

"I'm not dressing up like that again if I don't need to, I can just hide underneath the couch while you all talk. Alright? Good." 

And I leave the room, holding back confused tears. 

~

"Alright, Kate, under the couch." Roman says, pointing towards the high legged love seat in the living room. 

I regret this decision as soon as I see the dust underneath. 

But I take a deep breath, and slide underneath, my stomach pressed against the paneled wood of the floor. 

The front door opens, and the sound of garbled Spanish and footsteps approach the couch. I see Luka's black suede shoes next to Roman's wheels, and two foreign pairs of brown leather shoes settle down on the couch. My face is settled between one pair of brown shoes and Luka's. 

"Rafael, want a smoke?" Luka offers, and the pair of brown shoes next to my face lift, one still hanging down. 

"Sure, gracias." The voice, who I am assuming is Rafael, says. 

"Why are we here, Vincenzo?" The second unfamiliar voice asks, and belonging to Evan. 

"This is a matter of utmost importance, gentlemen." Luka says gruffly. "West's woman is still being kept, as we all know, with Marcel in an undisclosed location." 

A few approving grumbles. 

"However, Marcel has chosen you two to inform me as to her location, as he believes you two are the most competent men among us." 

Oh, Luka is good. Flattery for information. 

"Really?" Both Rafael and Evan ask, and I hold my breath. 

"Marcel told us nothing of this." Evan says. His accent is much heavier than Rafael's and his voice deeper and gruffer. He sounds like a grizzly bear smuggled in a tin can. 

"He instructed us to tell you. You know how he likes to do things, don't you?" Roman asks, his voice dripping with implications. 

"Of course we know, Cortez." Rafael chirps, fear in his voice. 

A moment of silence, filled with the sound of a lighter opening and a slight cough from Rafael. 

I inhale in the silence, and immediately regret it as a cloud of dust swims up my nose. 

No no -

"Well, if that's the case, Marcel is holding her in the-"

I fought the urge tooth and nail, but the dust won. 

And I sneeze.