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 you 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 we 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 her 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."

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 behind you. 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 your way to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and easily finding the towels. After a good 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 good, 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, her 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, it looks like.

"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.