Someone nudged my shoulder. I rolled over, my eyes blinking open. Dark shapes blurred until I squinted, the shadows sharply cut off their round edges.
"We gotta get up," hummed Liam, kneeling on the bed, hovering over me.
"Why?" I stared at his stubble, then added, "You need to shave."
"Thanks, but we have a youngin so we can't do the 'wake up late, rush, don't eat breakfast and wear the same clothes from yesterday' shindig that we always do. We have to be good influences," explained Liam sounding calm, like the narrator of an audio book. I sighed, taking in the fresh air.
"Ok you can have the bathroom first, wake me up when your done."
"No, that's not how this works!" The pillow, cradling my ears, was ripped from its place and the blanket, applying warmth to my body, was dragged off my body. Liam paddled my feet to the edge of the bed. He tossed my arms around his neck and hauled me to my feet. Flopping me over his back, he carried me across the room to the bathroom placing me on the toilet. My eyes flicked open.
"Bathroom, you're in the bathroom," Liam replied, answering the unasked question. I grunted in response. Liam left swiftly, but I noticed how his posture was impeccable. Sighing, I started to get ready.
Soon my brown hair was swindled in a bun and I was dressed in a solid-coloured, army green, with long pants and sleeves jumpsuit. (It was one of my favorites because I loved the open back.) I opened the door, my eyes adjusting to the dark hallway.
"Done?" Liam was leaning against the wall, waiting.
"Yep, the bathroom's all yours." The exchange was awkward and no eye contact was made. My eyes were still stuck on the gray carpeting when, I stepped into the bedroom. Glancing upward for a small glimpse of how far the bed was, I noticed how neatly the bed was made. The gray comforter tucked in like hotels do it, from what I can remember about hotels, anyways. Normally the white shams covering the pillows were crinkled and stuffed in random places around the room, but, now, they were placed perfectly in their spot at the head of the bed. Liam had hung up all my clothes that usually cluttered the floor. All the books were back in their spots in the nightstands on either side of the bed. Every clipboard, we had for our various jobs, was perfectly in order in our wall hanging device. My mouth laid ajar at the cleanliness.
Out of my peripheral vision, a light increase, then decreased as Liam stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in fresh clothes. Liam's wardrobe consisted of black, grey, and white tee shirts and black jeans.
"You like it?" inquired Liam coming up behind me wrapping his arms around my waist, stroking his thumb against my arm.
"Yeah," I whispered. "You did all of this while I was in the bathroom?" My head cocked backward, as my eyes drifted from his chin to his grey eyes.
"You were in there a long time." His comment had us both breaking in a new smile.
"Thank you." He nodded, a grin creeping up the side of his mouth. I handed him my light green nightgown. "Where should I put this?"
"Probably in you laundry bin." Liam open the closet door and chucked it into a basket in the corner. "You should probably get started on breakfast."
"Why am I making breakfast?"
"Because Elouise would appreciate it."

I was halfway down the dim hall before I heard Liam chuckling. The kitchen was dark when I came in. Through the windows I can see workers in their blue aprons already wiping down tables and setting up the diners in the Crater. I never really ate breakfast when I first came here so I wouldn't know what to cook, but I had collected one memory of my mom and I making oatmeal. I remember pouring in a cup of milk, a cup of water and a cup of oats. So that where I started. There is already a pot on the stove so all I to do was get out the ingredients.
"You can add anything to an oatmeal base. Fruits, brown sugar, huney, or chocolate!" Mom's eyes went wide like mine when I heard the word 'chocolate'. "Iris what do you want to add your oatmeal?"
Mom was a woman with straight brown hair, at collar bone length, and brown eyes. She was a bit taller than average, her nose was sharp, like Apple's and mine, curiously her stomach seemed to bulge directly out and she rubbed it alot.
"Whatever you want mommy," I said 'helping' her stir the oatmeal with a wooden spoon. Sitting on the counter top, I could see how much she resembled Elouise and Apple. Her voice was innergetic and soothing, and she was careful to make sure I was having fun cooking with her.
"I think we do some cherries, huh?" Her finger bopped my nose. "Why don't you go pick some cherries from the trees outside," she suggested, pointing out at the grove of colourful and tropic-feeling fruit trees. I scrambled off the concrete countertops, joyously. onto the wooden stool that laid just under fragile my body. Mom plucked me up, cradling me.
"Iris feel! Do you feel Baby Mystery kicking? Oh there it is," squealed Mom. A giggle escaped my lungs as I felt a violent movement overwhelm my system. The loving moment we shared, looking at each other's eyes, her smile the definition of beautiful, was cropped short as the front door was kicked in. Fear strangled the love out her eyes as she ran to Apple, who was sitting on the floor under a blanket playing with jumbo legos next to the big french doors leading outside, still holding me firmly in her arms. Apple was terrified, but silent, as she reached for mom's arms. Mom snatched Apple off the floor, tucking her next to me. Apple kissed my head and held my hand.
"It's okay, mom will take care of us," she whispered as mom threw open the back yard doors, running into the trees. I could hear her heart pumping rapidly in her chest.
I could feel the tears draining from my eyes as the memories played in my head like a movie. The oatmeal mixture was beneath me, simmering softly as a wooden spoon sat in my hand stirring slightly. Cherries. I checked the refrigerator, no cherries, but the freezer had a half eaten bag of frozen cherries. I quickly added the cherries along with some brown sugar to the pot. The milk and water slowly dissolved from the pot leaving just the cherries and the oatmeal. Taking three bowls out of the cabinet, I filled them all the way to brim. I left the extra in the pot and added spoons each bowl. Carefully I balanced the steaming bowls up one arm, swiftly walking to the island, and spreading the bowls an equal length apart. A small knock on the apartment window startling me from my oatmeal trance.
Apple gave me a small smile as she saw the oatmeal with cherries bobbing on top. The draw to hug Apple and cry into her shoulder sucked me in as I opened the window for her. Her Body slithered through and she tucked me into a hug from the floor. Kneeling down to the floor, her embrace left me feeling loved.
"I got the memory too," her voice next to my ear as a sprinkle of wetness soaked into my skin. "We need to find the person whose sending us memories."
"I thought you controlled the memories," I whispered back into her ear.
"I never did." I was utterly confused. All the questions flooding to my brain, bursting through my dam I had built to keep so much hope out.
"Who controls the memories?"
"I don't know." Apple backed out of the embrace scanning my face. I couldn't help but feel heartbroken that we didn't know who gave us these memories. The undeniable feeling of wanting flowed through my veins. Pulling myself to my feet, and reached down to help Apple.
"I'll pour you a bowl; wake up Elouise. Will you?" No response, just a stride in the direction Elouise bedroom as a yes. I gathered another bowl from the top cabinet and dished up the last of the oatmeal. Through the wall, I most of what I heard was inaudible conversation from the back bedroom but what I could make out was 'cherries? No I didn't have a memory'. Why didn't Elouise have a memory? Is it because I didn't see her in the memory? Who is controlling the memories? Net? Liam! Father? Mother?
I was so wound up in my thoughts I barely noticed the figure behind me.
"Hello Iris," groaned a deep voice. My head whipped around, slower than my body.
"Net." I instantly could tell that the figure in front of me was the one who tried to kill my mother.
The one who attacked her and my family multiple times.
The one that I was looking for.
"Oh! One step ahead of your mother. She would play in her mind the attacks over and over, but never realized that it was me. Well done, Iris. Truly impressed. How's Apple and Elouise," insulted the broad figure. I could barely see his body shape, tall and muscular. His brown eyes, with a gold sliver slashed through his left eye, sparkled through the dark smoke that engulfed the room, hiding all his other features. My teeth gritted.
"You don't get to talk about my mother that way," I screamed. His chuckle was like a microphone squealing, the waves of sound crashing against my head. "Stop it!" My hand cover my ears as I tried to eliminate the noise.
"Don't worry, little Iris. You will find your mother. Dead." I could hear the screams of my mother and laugh of Net mixing in my ears. The smoke was suffocating my brain, making my body go numb. I couldn't feel the counter top anymore, and the floor was so close to my face.The smelling burning flesh was like the smell of rotten chicken. It was something you couldn't decide if you wanted to follow you or not. It just did.
"I'll just take a small nap," I whispered as the gas slammed my lids closed. I signed away of everything: my breathing, my sight, my mother, and my life.