There's a bright light that surrounds you, a white light that seems to lull you from something that feels like a deep sleep. Your head pounds to the beat of a drum and you feel your eyes opening, the light not disappearing.

Shapes form. Four walls, two doors, and a window, sunlight streaming through. But there's something about this room that feels... familiar.

You look down at yourself on the plain, grey-sheeted bed, and you swear your heart stops in your chest.

You're back where you were; where this all began.

Sitting upright, you spring out of the bed and over to a corner of the room, taking it all in. It's exactly how it was before; everything is.

You shake your head. Why did they bring you back here? That man in the fedora pulled the trigger—you heard the gunshot. You should be dead.

You look down at yourself. Karika's floral top and skinny jeans still form to your frame, and Chris's jacket is around your shoulders. You pull it up around your chin, his scent surrounding you, and it clears your mind for a minute. The last thing you remember, you were running from two guys. Two turned into five somehow and Nasty held you still in front of Fedora's gun.

Scanning the room, you see two things that shouldn't be where they are if they'd taken you back to this room after that whole incident: the phone and the note.

You stagger over to the note and read it, a spooked chill rushing through your body.

You're in danger. This is not your house. This is not your home. Get out. Go to the address below. Help him however you can, but whatever you do... don't fall in love with him.

That same address is scribbled at the bottom.

Your nerves spike to an unsafe level.

Rushing to the table with the phone, you make note of the blood. If your blood was on the tombstone... could this have been yours as well?

In the mirror, you see the same face staring back at you that had been before. The hair is just as untamed, though, but it's not important. Once again, there are no scars, especially not one in the center of your forehead where you were shot.

You rummage through the room, trying to find anything else that could help you, your hands shaking profusely. In a drawer of the vanity, there's a bloody notebook and a broken pen. You pull them out and look through the pages, finding the part that was ripped for the note.

A door slams somewhere in the house. Footsteps up the stairs. Jingling keys. Just like before.

Shoving the notebook and pen back into the drawer, you exit the room via the window, lingering behind for a moment once again, crossing your fingers that you don't hear the same thing you heard before.

"Time to clean up the mess."

The second voice chuckles.

You smother the shocked sound with your hand, covering your mouth.

It's exactly the same as when you woke up two days ago.

They enter the room as your thoughts bring you full circle. Are you redoing the past two days? If so, why are you in different clothing? You were wearing that blue skirt and top... And you still have no shoes. Are you stuck in a time loop?

"Guess the other guys came and got her body earlier this morning," one of the guys says, your blood pumping too fast through your veins to make you think straight. "Wonder if the boss's plan will work."

You take a deep breath and quietly make your way down the roof and to the drain pipe. Gripping it gently as the door to the room shuts, the guys most likely out of the room, you quickly let yourself drop to the ground. The wind is knocked from your lungs and you take a second to recollect yourself before getting back up to walk.

You press and hold the power button to turn the phone on, making your way out to the street, running as fast as you can. Because of Chris's jacket and Karika's pants, you warm up really quickly and you start to sweat.

Pulling off the jacket, you tie it around your waist as the sunlight grows brighter, the phone buzzing, You Know's texts coming through.

You type in the code and immediately call him up. The phone buzzes again, but it's only the second message from the night before coming through.

The phone goes to voicemail after three rings, but the inbox is full. You groan and slam your thumb against his name once more, begging him to answer.

When he doesn't, you grumble under your breath and get to work on a message for him.

You already know 911 and looking for a police station won't work, so you go ahead and put in the address once again. Now that you've got internet access, it maps out the directions, and make your way that way, being mindful of the dying battery, the percentage on fifteen percent. This time, you're sure to go through your settings and you switch off all access to your location. It probably won't do anything if there are people using different and better technology to find you, but until You Know calls you...

You groan, making a mental note of the map on your phone. He didn't call you until later in the day. At that thought, you resolve to turn the phone back off and wait for that time to roll around, whenever it was. You can't really remember. It was after twelve, though, so you decide you'll turn it on after that.

Ten minutes later, you're standing in front of Karika's shop, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched her die yesterday. Would she be alive today, since everything rebooted?

You rush up to the side door and bang on it, praying she'll answer.

"You tryin' to get in there?"

Frick. You'd forgotten about Skinny and Fatty.

They walk toward you slowly and you try to push the fear down. Karika came out to protect you from these guys before... would she do so again?

"Ain't seen nobody come out of there all morning," the gangly one says, shaking his head, the slowness of his voice alighting your nerves with irritation. The repeat of the situation makes you shiver, the cool wind brushing against your face. "Shame. That pretty lady locked herself in all night."

"Shame for who?" You spit, not in the mood and not really feeling like yourself—whoever that really is. "You or her gun? I'm sure she's itching to pull the trigger with a pair of slobs like you loitering around her shop."

Tall frowns and glares at you as your heart jumps in your chest. Why did you say that? Why did those words leap from your mouth? Are you trying to start trouble?

"What you say to me?"

"She got some balls, Dak," the fat one laughs, coming forward, fear balling in your throat.

The door opens, stopping him and Fatty nearly walks into it.

"There you are, Roxy, I was about to go mad with worry. You know creeps roam around this side of town."

A sense of happiness washes over you at the sight of her, the fear vanishing like vapor. She's alive. She didn't die. She's alive.

Her face contorts. "Where did you get that jacket? And those clothes...?"

"Who you callin' a creep, missy?" Fatty says as he yanks the door away from Karika, nearly making her topple over. He takes a step toward her but she reaches into her cleavage and produces a small pistol, pointing it between his eyes.

"Don't mess with me, or your brains will be splattered all over the walls."

When she says it this time around, the words are more forceful, demanding. Believable. It makes your stomach drop into your chest and tingles erupt all over your body as the weapon stares him in the face the same way it had yours less than half an hour ago—or so it seemed.

Fatty and malnourished back up with a grimace, muttering about how stupid Karika is and whatnot, promising their revenge with a half-baked warning.

Karika reaches down and grabs your arm, tugging you into the kitchen and shutting the door behind you. Just like before, her deep brown eyes narrow as she looks you over, her heart-shaped face filled with doubt.

"Glad you're okay," she says, not as welcoming as last time as she returns her gun to her bra and wipes her hands on an apron laying on the counter next to her. "We girls have to stick together."

She looks you up and down. Last time, she was comfortable enough to sit on the counter, but this time, she seems more on edge, not really wanting to open up to you. You assume it's because of Chris's jacket and her own clothes.

"What brings you here?" She asks, shifting her weight and crossing her arms. "I wouldn't have opened my door if I didn't hear those two guys. They're harmless but dangerous to any girl who can't hold her own, especially one I've never met yet knows I have a gun on my person."

She takes a step closer to you, eyes locked on yours and daring you to look away. You almost waver, shivering inside, but you know this girl at least a little bit, and you know she has a warm heart. She's helped you. She's been cryptic about it, but she's helped nonetheless.

You break eye contact and pull out the wadded piece of paper from the jacket. Maybe if you approach it the same way as last time, she'll open up, just like before.

"I woke up and I couldn't remember anything about who I was or where I came from. I found this note and this phone and it led me here."

Her brow furrows as she takes the paper away from you, touching the dried blood that smears the lines on the paper. Her brow furrows and her expression softens.

"There's blood?"

You nod. "I don't have any cuts or anything on me, but I'm almost positive it might be mine. There was a bedside table next to me with more on it, and a journal too."

She exhales, looking you over.

"This is the first time anything like this has happened, right?"

Your mind stumbles at the question. You forgot she asked that before. Can... Can you be honest?

She watches you for a moment as you hesitate, something swimming in her eyes. She swallows nervously.

"Is it?"

You reluctantly shake your head. "No. This is the second time."

Her fingers tighten around the paper you gave her and it's her turn to hesitate. You remember what you saw, her words resonating inside of you.

I really, really hope that you never see it.

"I saw the butterfly, the one with clear wings. The same one you saw a year ago when your dad passed away." Your breath comes out quaky as new questions come to light, shaking you to your core. "You said you saw it a lot of times. What happened to you when you'd see it?"

Karika continues to stare at you, awestruck. Grabbing your arm, she takes you into the storage room, fumbling with her many keys to get inside. She checks her watch as she opens it up and ushers you inside, shutting and locking the door behind the both of you.

"The meeting doesn't start for another ten minutes," she mumbles to herself, her dark green watch glinting in the warm lighting of the storage room. "But Peter will be her in five, so he'll have to wait outside. Brat."

Her eyes catch on yours and she takes a deep breath in, the two of you standing at the door.

She places her hands on her hips and nods. "Tell me everything."