The sun dances on my face as my eyes fluster open. I roll to my side, giving the sunlight my back.

"You up?" His husky yet sweet voice reaches my ears. I lift my head, scanning the corners of the room. The closet, study table, and chair, with Chris standing at the window

"Yeah," I answer, then scrunch my nose at my husky morning voice.

"You knocked out in the car coming over yesterday. You're even still wearing that darn ragged hospital gown." He scrunches his nose.

"It wouldn't be ragged if someone didn't tear it," I respond, glaring at him. He stares. He loves doing that, doesn't he? Bearly talks but stares.

"See if you can find something in my bag to wear and wash up. I'll be downstairs. Come down for breakfast." He says, letting himself through the brown wooden doors.

I watch him go, then climb off the bed afterwards. The cold floor kisses my feet as I caress its boards. I wince, then get used to the cold. The damn floor makes no sense. How is the sun so hot yet the floor so cold?

I skim through the bag, trying to find a suit of clothes belonging to me. Nothing. All Chris'. Pathetic. I take one of his sweat pants and t-shirts out. I take more clothes out and find underwear for me. At Least I found that.

The luke warm water rushes through my back-length hair and down my body. An image of me cutting my hair comes to mind. I shudder and turn the tap off. I quickly dry myself and get dressed in Chris' belongings. I look at myself in the mirror and see myself with shoulder-length hair yet again. The dream. I was a fighter. I burned those men. I was hiding something, but what?

My brown eyes scan my reflection. "What are you hiding? Where are my memories?" I ask myself as I run my hand down my round face in the reflection.

Ava, the food is getting cold; hurry up. What is taking you so long?"

Chris shouts from downstairs. I haven't even been up here for half an hour. So rushy.

"Coming!" I shout at him in response.

My feet assault the board steps while my hands slide down the iron railings. I rush down the stairs, entering the sitting room: dressed with yellow paint and paintings hanging from its walls. Cream sofas sitting on shinny wooden floors, a glass table in between all those seatings, purple and white curtains hang from its windows, blocking the outside view.

"Beautiful!" I say this as I descend the last step.

" Thanks! I have a great sense of fashion." Cindy responds. She smiles at me, showing her pearly white teeth as Chris comes from the kitchen.

"I thought I would have to come and drag you out of the darn bathroom." he says.

"As if you could," I respond. Chris raises a brow at me. I gulp. Can he do that? A part of me really wants to find out. Next time, I guess. What the hell? Shut up.

"What's for breakfast?" I say, releasing my mind from those terrifying thoughts. I walk past him, hauling up his sweat pants that are falling off. Sweet, now this darn thing wants to expose my skinny ass.

"Vegetables, chicken, and sweet dumplings"

"Full course meal? Nice, except for the vegetables. Yuck! The hospital made me eat vegetables because they heard I'm a vegan. I swear if I eat just one more spoonful of vegetables, I'll turn into vegetables myself." I say, taking a seat at the table. Cindy laughs as she takes her seat with Chris following.

We have our meal, satisfying our hungry stomachs. The delicious food casts water on our lips. The chef is praised and thanked for the tasty meal, especially by Cindy.

She seductively bit into the meat, batting her umbrella lashes at Chris while spitting praise. Afterwards, she would hum and say, this is the best meat I've tasted in years. Exotic!'

To- be- honest, it wasn't even that good. I bet I could cook better.

Funny thing, Chris didn't even pay attention to her. He just did his usual action: stare. Sometimes it scares me. He says so little, but he watches more. Why though?

I put my fork down and left the table after saying, I'm finished and beg pardon. My eyes glimpse Chris' bandaged arm. I stopped in my tracks.

"Who am I?" I ask Chris. I stare into his eyes, which are the same color as mine, looking for answers. I am blocked by his strong walls. Nothing. He looks away.

"What do you want me to tell you?", He asks. Clearing the table from the plates as Cindy looked between us both.

"Tell me, what are you? What am I? What happened yesterday? Why did Santa call us agents? What did my dream mean? Why did we have to run away from the hospital?" I say as he leaves the dining room. I follow behind him, carrying the plates he left behind.

"I can only answer one question at a time."

"I never asked for you to answer all my questions at once. I just need answers."

"Then which one do you want me to answer?" he says, resting the plates on the counter. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, turning to face me with his back leaning on the sink.

"I don't know. Just tell me something, anything. I need answers." I have so many questions, each important and needing an answer. I can't just pick one.

"If I have the option of telling you something, it's nothing," Chris responds, heaving a sigh afterwards. "But I know you won't stop until you figure it out."

"So?",

"So I'll let you figure it out," he says, then turns his back to me, attending to the dishes. I huff and walk off. Dick head.

Why say you can only answer one question if you don't answer any? I paddle out of the kitchen, my hand in the pocket of the sweat pants. I enter the dining room, glancing at where Cindy sits around the large 12-seat glass table. Empty. I continue walking out into the living room, spotting her at the window with a phone to her ears.

"I'll get them to you as soon as I earn Chris' trust," I hear her say before ending the call and putting the blue device on the window pail. She turns and faces me, smiling. I don't smile; something is off. I watch her walk towards me, her legs seeming longer in those tights.

"Would you like to watch something?" She questions plugging, then turning on the television. I stay quiet and, for once, stare. She flips her brown hair out of her face as she bends and takes the remote off the floor. Her phone beeps, and she throws the remote at me. I catch it as it bounces off my chest.

"When it comes up, you can choose the movie. I'll be back," She says, then moves towards her phone. I sit on the sofa, the soft cushion going under my weight. I watch her. She leaves the sitting room down the hall behind the TV. I get up, holding on to the sofa arm, as I watch her enter the third and last door on the right. Chris comes in, and I take a seat, casually skipping through Netflix for a movie.

"I'll get them to you as soon as I earn Chris trust." I wonder what that's about.