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 reasoning.

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 the club.

"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, eyes filling with tears. You don't even know him...

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

You stand on shaky legs, your stomach churning inside of you as you feel sickness washing through you. Out in the cold, you wrap Chris's jacket around you 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.