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 eyes filled with worry.

"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 and I was told to stay here."

"Hey, Peter, can I sit there?"

You look up at the boys, Chris looking 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 looks over 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 him, trying to stay as quiet as possible so that you don't wake him.

"Cora?"

He says your name quietly, his hand lifting and taking ahold of your wrist gently. You look 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 outside, 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.