Yay, part 2! Again, many thanks to Kokodoru for beta-reading. :D

I suppose that now is a good time to say that the division of the story in parts serves a purpose which you, as a reader, are entirely free to interpret however you wish. If you don't like how this part goes then hey, it's entirely possible that everything ended with part 1 and everyone is going crazy. Whatever floats your boat, actually. (Though this is not a way to circumvent criticism! This was simply inspired by the fact that this story has gone in many, many different directions in my head before I even started writing, with the separations between parts ending up as the main turning points. So I chose one route and kept the 'joints', and not only to serve as plot anchors, but to more markedly cut between what happened before, and after. So, as previously stated, this isn't at all a 'you can't correct me' gimmick. In fact, criticise my choice of plot to follow! Or...everything really. Even this. XD I like to experiment, so give me feedback!)

THIS IS PART TWO OF THREE! SPOILERS AHEAD FOR PART 1 'RUIN'. RUIN NEEDS TO BE READ IN ORDER TO FULLY UNDERSTAND WHAT HAPPENS HERE.

Wordy intro and warning aside, enjoy! :D


When Luka finally got home, she wasn't sure if she was awake. She kept pinching herself, almost asking out loud if she really had just met some sort of mafia boss, if she really was tasked with...borderline espionage. If all that really had happened just because of some stupid post online. Because of a stupid hobby.

She immediately took that post down. Then, realizing that an envelope with a ridiculous sum of money was still stuck in her pocket, she went to find a hiding place for that.

But first...she had to count it. She opened the envelope and found five thousand scarab in there, cut into a few fives, a handful of tens, several fifties and far too many hundreds. The previous payments had been sitting in a jar with the rest of her on-the-side profits, the bills stuffed in haphazardly in her excitement.

She wasn't so sure she was as excited as before.

Immediately, she went online to purchase a few safes. One looked like a book, a dictionary really, which she could put in her meagre bookcase. While it wasn't fireproof, and could easily be carried away, reviews suggested that it looked far too convincing for it to tip anyone off. The other was a more classic, fireproof safe she would put under her bed or behind some pants in her closet. Speedy delivery, they would arrive the next day. Then, she went to the bank and put a few of the bills into her account. Just a few, nothing suspicious at all, she hoped. Plus, her boss couldn't reasonably expect her to keep every single bill, right? Where would she put it all, in her mattress?

When the safes arrived, all of the large bills went into the book, and the numerous smaller cuts were stuffed in the secured box and hidden in her closet. She reasoned that if her house were to go up in flames, the ridiculous sums would disappear into ash, but she would still have enough cash to survive for a while. The keys were then put in other books in her bookshelf, like bookmarks.

She hoped that would be good enough, because her first letter had already arrived. Its paper was strangely rugged, yet glossy.

Get to know the house. Take photos.

That was it. Posing as a signature, there was simply an address.

Luka sighed deeply, trying to wrap her head around the situation. Then she waited till it was dark, grabbed her camera, and headed out.


Luka whirled around towards the door. There, leaning against the doorframe, teary-eyed and panting, stood Miku.

She's alive.

The realization felt like she was given a second life. Forget a second chance, a second breath. It swept her up and awake like a wild wave crashes onto a beach. It stole her breath and stopped her heart.

She could rewrite everything, redo it all!

"You...!" hissed the girl, still shaking. But anger seemed to fill her instead of weakness, instead of the near-death experience. "You!"

Miku was so incredibly, unbelievably alive.

Luka stood, legs weak, but the feeling that washed over her was overpowering. It felt like the entirety of the world laid open before her, with its limitless possibilities. The total contrary of the emotions that had filled her previously seized her to her core, all of the nightmares she had envisioned were no longer incoming, and all of the things she had dreamed could actually come true. Instead of mourning parents, avoiding the law and attempted suicides, she could go out, set Miku free, show her what was out there. Maybe even make her laugh. Just by seeing her standing, breathing, crying even, Luka felt as if literally anything was possible.

And this time, she wanted 'anything' to be everything good.

Luka was so absorbed by the epiphany that she never heard the tealette yell at her, or saw the pillow coming. The blow to her head sent her reeling, tumbling back to the floor. The tile hurt her knees and her head probably missed the bathtub by mere centimeters, but all Luka knew was that she needed to fix this. She needed to fix everything. All of the pieces of the puzzle came together in her mind. Miku needed to get safe. The ones who wanted her dead needed to be convinced that she was just that. She needed to, essentially, make Miku disappear. Kidnap the furious girl she thought she had managed to kill.

She was dancing on a razor's edge.

Adrenaline filled her to the brim. Immediately she was back up on her feet despite suffering an ongoing pillow assault. The girl was screaming at her, and while she couldn't hear her, hear anything, she knew that they needed to get quiet, as soon as possible.

Luka grabbed her pillow-wielding hand with one of her own, and covered her mouth with the other, shushing her. Miku glared at her with a rage Luka forced herself to ignore. They needed to get safe. Quickly.

"Please, please, just be quiet," she pleaded, feeling that the both of them were shaking like leaves in the wind. She still tasted the bile on her tongue. "Please, shh."

Miku shook herself free but didn't scream. The room filled with an uneasy semi-silence, wherein Luka managed to gather her senses. With every passing second her goal became clearer and clearer, and with every passing second, Miku shook with more and more anger.

"How...? Who..." she panted, the emotion rolling off of her in waves.

"Listen: we need to leave," started Luka, hands up in a calming stance. "We need to get you-"

"How dare you!" snapped Miku, louder than the pinkette anticipated. "You try- try to kill me, and now you want to kidnap me...!"

Luka shushed her. "Listen," she said harshly, hoping to get the girl's attention. "If I leave you here, then someone else will come here. And, trust me, they won't have the reasons I had to stop."

Miku stared at her for a while, and only their breathing could be heard. Luka felt that the girl in front of her was as wound up as a spring.

"There is absolutely no way I can convince you right here, right now, that I only have the best intentions," she continued, hands open and in front of her. "But that's the case. If I were to leave, we'll both be in a seriously bad place tomorrow."

"So you're going to kidnap me...?!" hissed the girl in outrage, still out of breath.

"There's nothing else I can do."

Miku dropped the pillow but was obviously still far from being calm.

"Tell me. Tell me what you're going to do to me. What you want from me."

"All I want is to get us both away from people who want you dead."

"How?"

"I-" Luka faltered. "I- I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"No time. And... And I'm still making this up as we speak."

"What?!" Miku snapped, looking ready to continue her assault with her bare hands.

"Listen," Luka said, hoping to be more reassuring than anything else, but when had she last spoken to somebody? She could barely string her sentences together. "I... I didn't expect you to live. Ever since I saw you standing I've been thinking of ways to get us free. Free, you get that?"

The word seemed to hit the tealette just enough for her to freeze. Once again, they shared an uneasy silence broken only by their breathing.

But Luka was so full of adrenaline she swore it would pour out of her ears. She flushed the toilet, then wiped down its surface. She inspected the floor, but her hair was properly tied up; no problem there, she hoped.

When she picked up the pillow, Miku yelped, startled out of her thoughts.

"Where will we be going?"

Luka thought for a few good seconds before answering, "My home. I- I have nothing else."

Miku didn't look convinced. Luka took the pillow to the bed and made it all look a little nicer.

What else was there to think about, she wondered. She had left dirt in the basement, maybe even in the whole house. She'd have to take care that no footprints could be found. But otherwise, she could only assume, after making sure that she wasn't actually bleeding from her hands, that she hadn't left a single trace behind.

She went for Miku's closet and took a pair of sneakers.

"Here, put these on," she ordered, her voice gentle. Miku was suddenly very docile and took the shoes without a word, but she didn't do anything with them. Luka didn't notice at first but then realized that the poor girl was probably borderline shell-shocked, washed up on some beach after the wave of adrenaline and rage had left her there.

Luka was caught off guard. She needed to help, somehow, she knew that, but... She couldn't fathom a single way to comfort the girl. She needed to get her safe, she could do that to some degree, but...comfort? She hadn't spoken to a person in a regular state of mind in months. Her last birthday party was celebrated in the deepest form of self-loathing. And she didn't even need to comfort anyone back then. She was as empty-handed as she could possibly be in a single second.

Luckily, the tealette somehow managed to put on her shoes on her own. All of her movements were careful, extraordinarily deliberate. It was as if she was wrapped in bubble wrap, padded as could be, scared of every atom in the world and desperately trying to protect herself from it all. Or, rather, it was as if she was trying to move while submerged in a thick syrup, and every bit of energy counted. Luka couldn't find any jackets or coats in her closet, so she removed her own hoodie and put it around the girl's shoulders. A sincere attempt, but she knew that it would ring hollow.

"Come on, we need to go."

She led the way down to the basement. With every room they passed, Luka went through a mental checklist of things she could have missed. Miku followed obediently, quietly, eventually even putting her arms into the sleeves of her hoodie. But she hesitated at the basement steps.

"It's only another way to get outside," Luka tried to assure her.

Apparently, that was enough. Luka kicked around dirt so that no single detail was left of the bottom of her shoe, then slid open the window, an action which got no reaction from the tealette. Then, Luka told her to climb up.

A frail voice answered her, "...really?"

"If you want, I can go first."

Miku nodded, and Luka obliged. She climbed up and out of the window and noticed that she hadn't put the grate back when she had entered.

"Come on," she said softly, reaching her hands down through the window. To her surprise, Miku grabbed her by the wrist and followed. They proceeded the same way to get out of the hole in the ground. Miku stood on the lawn, quietly, while Luka closed the window, put the grate back in its place, and upset the dirt sufficiently. Then she scanned for neighbors, but everything was dead quiet.

"Ok, let's go," she said, hoping to be encouraging. The last thing, the very last thing she wanted Miku to do, was to run away and get to the police; that would sign both their death warrants. Luckily, the younger girl did follow her and didn't even protest when they needed to get over the garden fence.

What to do next, Luka had a fair idea, but was still stringing together the details as they walked. She made sure to walk next to her protégé of sorts. She didn't want to lead her, nor did she want to push her before her. She matched her pace, instead of forcing her to match her's. But what else could she do?

Her first step was to avoid all surveillance. An easy task in and of itself, but the real question was; where to go?

Within the next minute, she decided to go to the river. Miku walked along without question, even though she most likely had no idea where they were in the slightest. This was probably her first day away from the house in ages, Luka thought, and she was being led somewhere against her will.

Wonderful.

The skies overhead darkened, but Luka paid no mind. Soon, after going through a park, she could hear the river roaring just ahead. It had rained upstream just the previous day, and the current was vicious. Multiple signs warned passersby of flash floods, and Luka decided to use the hazard to their advantage.

Miku hesitated visibly when the river came into view. Despite the darkness, the white foam in the water was obvious, and its roar was intimidating.

"What...?" she asked, her voice almost drowned away.

"Give me your shoes," said Luka.

"Huh?"

"Your shoes."

Miku looked down at them.

"They- they're new. I haven't really worn them before."

Luka tried to ignore the painful pull on her heartstrings.

"I'll get you new ones," promised the pinkette. "Please. Here, wear mine."

They exchanged shoes, Luka simply taking hers off and standing on the cold river bank, while Miku carefully transferred her feet from one shoe to the next, her movements still as deliberate as possible. Luka then picked up Miku's shoes, took one look at them, and flung one right into the river. The second was tossed further down the bank. Maybe it would be caught in the rage of the waters, maybe not, but that was part one on the list done.

Miku watched on in silence, and Luka tried to believe that she was not crying at the loss of her brand-new shoes.

"Ok..." What next? "Here, let's get back to the park. Walk on those logs," she instructed. "Be careful to not leave any footprints."

Miku nodded and did as she was instructed in her deliberately careful way, going from log to pile of leaves to stone. Once back on the path in the park, they resumed walking side-by-side.

Luka was carefully trying to piece together the next step of her plan. This proved to be slightly difficult, as her socks had been drenched by mud and offered little to no protection from the pebbles on the path. Every now and then she stepped on something and did her best not to let it show. But the stings were there, incredibly distracting. Those tiny pains reminded her of the scratches that covered her arms and face. As if the mere thought woke them up, she realized they stung, and the bruises that covered her body pulsed dully.

They still had to evade cameras. The walk to her home from the park was straightforward enough, but there was no way to access her front door from the street without passing under at least one camera. There was one way to get there undetected, but that required going through a few backyards and dark, narrow alleyways. That wasn't something she was going to ask of Miku.

While Luka tried to think of the best way to proceed, she simply walked around in circles, killing time. Maybe Miku noticed that they kept passing in front of the same shops and homes, maybe not, she wasn't sure: Luka couldn't decipher her state of mind. The tealette's steps were slow, hesitating only when Luka tried to turn them left or right, as if she was afraid to make a mistake that would cost her her life. Her eyes, however, were trained forward. She didn't look down, and she never looked in Luka's direction. She was probably still in shock, the pinkette thought. Trying, in vain, to process what exactly was going on, trying to find where it went wrong, why it was happening to her.

Luka would do her very best to explain when the time came. But, first things first, get her a shelter of sorts.

Killing time, she decided, was probably a good thing to do. When they would eventually pass under a camera on their way home, it would less easily be attached to the kidnapping of an innocent girl. People walk around all night long, Luka knew. Any footage of them long after the actual kidnapping could hardly be associated with them any more than any other stranger caught on tape.

Then again, she realized that it would be difficult for authorities to figure out when exactly Miku was kidnapped. They couldn't exactly take the temperature of the bed to determine when someone was last in it, could they? Especially when the first person to discover anything, Miku's father, would only return after five days. No clocks had been broken, no computer unplugged... In the end, she supposed that it all would only work to their advantage.

But, when authorities would, inevitably, search the place for clues, they would certainly find the broken lock and the grate Luka had sabotaged. As for the hollow, they would find Miku's stuff in there. But what else could they possibly find? What else had Luka forgotten? What tiny detail would lead them to their demise...?

After quite a while of walking around, maybe half an hour, Luka finally managed to piece together a proper plan. She directed the two of them towards her home, the easiest way to reach it, and stopped before they reached an intersection which was heavily guarded by cameras.

Luka sighed deeply before turning towards the tealette. Miku looked at her for the first time since they left the river, wary. She seemed to be waking up somewhat, and the thought briefly scared Luka.

"Ok, you're going to walk the final stretch on your own," started the pinkette. She handed the girl her keys as she spoke, "Take these."

Miku accepted the keys, movements still slow and precise, without saying a word.

Luka gave her directions, hoping to keep it simple enough. Miku didn't break eye contact as she listened, but was she really soaking up what she was hearing?

"Here," Luka pulled the hood over the girl's head. "I'll be taking another way home. I- I'll need to you open the back window in the bathroom so that I can get in. It's locked from the inside."

Miku didn't acknowledge anything, but the pinkette wasn't about to ask anything else of her, not even if she had understood. She felt a certain relief when Miku turned around and crossed the intersection before disappearing from view as she turned to the left, as instructed.

Luka went the other way, walked down a block and crossed the street somewhere else. Then, she dove into an alley, climbed a garden fence and quickly jumped from one garden to the next, ending up between a few apartment buildings. The small patio of sorts she landed in belonged to one of the apartments that surrounded her. It was hardly ever used since the only view they had was the back side of the other apartments and their bathroom windows. She used this route multiple times to avoid detection by cameras, but as she had told Miku, that night she had left her window locked.

She approached her window, knowing fully that Miku should already have been there for a few minutes. The window should be open. But just as Luka put her hand on the handle, she froze.

What if Miku had simply waited, and had darted off? After all, she seemed to be coming out of her shock. In any other situation, Luka would have rejoiced that the trauma —she hoped she didn't have to call it that— had only lasted so long. But right then, she needed full cooperation, and the docility had been very helpful. A rebellious girl would be infinitely difficult to save via kidnapping.

Miku wasn't rebellious, was she. At least, not to her parents. But… So much could have gone wrong. What would stop anything from going wrong right then?

It took Luka a long time to actually try the handle: she shook too much, the fear was too great. What would she do, if she were to find out that it was still locked, that Miku had not listened?

Luka breathed deeply, feeling the handle in her grip without trying to move it. Count down from three, she told herself, and just go for it. Three, two, one...!

It turned. The fear in her snapped like a rubber band and she relaxed instantly with a deep, deep sigh. She crawled in, then closed, and locked, the window behind her.

She quietly walked inside while taking off her socks, not sure what to expect. Miku had taken a seat on her couch and stared directly at her. The windows behind her let in very little light, yet somehow she managed to get a sort of glow, a halo of sorts, and suddenly Luka had no idea what to do next.

Now what?

It was late, or rather, it was becoming early. Four thirty had just rolled by. Luka suddenly had a guest of sorts, a someone she knew who didn't know her. They both had to stay safe, and Miku needed to become invisible, dead to the world. She needed to disappear completely. Nobody could see her.

Luka immediately went around her room and locked all of the doors and windows. Where she had curtains, she pulled them shut, too. Everything went dark. As she walked away from the curtains behind the couch, Miku handed her the keys. But she didn't say a word.

Luka accepted the keys, feeling awkward, terrible, and incredibly nervous. She quickly double locked the front door before hanging the keys from their hook, then turned on a light, busying herself partly just to give herself something to do. Of course, safety was from then on her absolute number one priority and needed to be taken seriously, but she was surprisingly scared of any interaction with the tealette.

Poor Miku, she thought. She was probably waiting for the worst to happen to her. She had to admit that it was a miracle that the girl had followed her at all. Maybe she was regretting her decisions, realizing that her abductor could have lied, and now she could just as well be in the clutches of a sex-trafficking ring, or some other similar nightmare.

What else could she possibly do? Keeping the girl safe, she could do to some capacity, as long as she cooperated. But comfort? It was an art that eluded her altogether.

Maybe, just maybe, she could give her something familiar.

She opened her fridge and found the milk. Two seconds later, she was preparing Miku's old-time favorite.

The tealette seemed to notice, for she had quietly crept into the kitchen. Luka wasn't caught unawares, however; even as she watched the milk slowly warm up, she was far too tense to let anything escape her senses. She cast an awkward glance in her direction, moving aside so that the girl could see what she was preparing, in case she didn't know already.

"How...? How did you know?" asked the girl, shy but slightly more alert than before.

Ah.

"I'll explain tomorrow, I promise," whispered Luka, hoping that her word had some value to Miku at that point. "But first, I think we both need some rest."

The tealette nodded, and patiently waited with her in the kitchen. With every passing second, with every moment that the stare bore into her back, Luka got more and more anxious. She got the girl a mug and spotted the powdered cacao.

"Would you like some hot chocolate, maybe?" she asked, voice shaking just somewhat.

"Chocolate?"

Luka turned to face her, slight surprise covering her features.

She'd never had chocolate?

Immediately she went to grab a bar of chocolate she'd purchased a few days prior, for it was one of the things she could actually stomach, then handed it to Miku. The girl looked at the wrapped bar with curiosity.

"What is it?"

"Sweets, a candy. I- There's dark chocolate, which is bitter, but similar to this. If you want, I can get some tomo-later."

Miku slowly unwrapped the chocolate as Luka spoke, and took one cautious bite. The milk started boiling, demanding attention Luka was all too happy to give. She cautiously poured the milk into the mug, then turned around to hand it to the tealette, to find that Miku was smiling just somewhat, to her surprise.

"It's good."

"Oh. Good."

So, would she like to try hot chocolate? She stirred the drink a bit, making sure that no skin could form on the surface, while Miku simply took another bite straight from the bar. Luka decided to simply go for it, thinking that giving her something new and, hopefully, tasty, would be easier to grasp than the entire kidnapping-for-your-own-good ordeal. An understandable peace offering of sorts.

Miku accepted the drink with a dreamy sort of anticipation, as if she was not quite daring to believe that something remotely harmless could be happening right then. Luka put away the chocolate bar, going on to worry about sleeping arrangements. The girl followed her, sipping her drink, saying and asking nothing. She probably preferred the hot chocolate to the actual bar: it was far more bitter. Luka was reassured by this just somewhat but knew that all of their problems wouldn't be solved with a single hot drink one early morning.

She took the pillows from the couch and put them on the floor, along the wall, a few meters away, so that she was essentially between the couch and the door. The couch was then unfolded into a bed and promptly made with covers and pillows more adapted to sleeping. For herself she took a blanket she had lying around, deciding that it would do.

Miku was almost done with her drink and seemed to be absorbing all that was happening with reigned in curiosity.

"I'll sleep here," Luka gestured to the pillows on the floor. "You can take the bed."

"But you live here."

"I-" Luka hesitated. "Consider yourself a guest of sorts. Make yourself at home, you know?"

Of course, she didn't. Luka cursed mentally. Miku did sit on the bed, quietly finishing her drink. Luka took action to avoid the silence and grabbed a pair of pajamas from her closet, before realizing that Miku was already wearing hers. Well, wearing full pajamas would probably be more appropriate than a tank top if she had a guest, she figured. She left to get changed in the bathroom, and while she was there, she brushed her teeth thoroughly, though she could never quite get rid of the taste of blood and bile. She returned to the kitchen to find that the mug had been put in the kitchen, and Miku had tucked herself in.

One less thing to do. She knelt on the ground, coaxed the pillows into a stable configuration of sorts, pulled the blanket over herself, and tried to sleep as well.


She did not sleep. She could not. She could only listen as Miku breathed, deeply, evenly. At first the knowledge that she was alive fascinated her, a wondrous comfort, and at first, nothing short of a miracle. But quickly, and with a certain relief, she realized how exactly she'd managed to fail at killing the tealette: Miku had simply passed out from the lack of oxygen, but she hadn't suffocated. How many additional seconds had been necessary, for her to send Miku over the edge? Another ten seconds? Twenty? She shook her head. Miku was alive. She tried to let that simple comforting fact drag her to sleep, but the sound of her breathing was too familiar. She had spent too many nights sitting in her room as she slept. The echo of the emotions that filled her back then seeped in, no matter how hard she tried. The guilt returned, and only its reasons had changed. She's alive, but she's trapped all over again. A bird who had flown from one cage to the next. Nothing has changed, except that now they knew of each other. What kind of impact would that have? That triggered worry that mixed with the remorse into something bitter. Would she be able to make this 'rescue' work? Would they get along well enough for cooperation to take form? And how long would it all last? How long would they have to wait? Who would run out of patience first? The media? The parents? Luka's employer? Or Miku? Then some form of fear took over; what if she had made a mistake, what if she were to make one? What if she were to screw it up all over again?

Then it started raining. The dark skies let loose their rage, the wind howling and the rain furious against the earth. The pitter patter was maddening. Eight o'clock rolled by, so Luka stopped trying to find sleep and headed out. She double locked the door again, checked the windows from outside, just to make sure nobody could see anything from outside.

She watched the drops drip from her umbrella, their speed nervous, the noise uneasy. Everything around her was loud. The water on the pavement, against windshields, on metal roofs. Shy ticking to loud rapping, all around her. Simply standing in the rain washed her mind.

The emotions went away or lost their saturation. Her mind went grey. In the end, the storm outside contrasted violently with her state of mind. Out there, it was busy. Anxious. Uneasy. But inside, she felt empty. She had even forgotten how raw the inside of her cheeks felt, the burn of her wounds.

She figured she was digesting. That putting herself outside, away from Miku and her own home, allowed her to mentally step back as well. She thought thoughts that meant everything to her, but right then, they lost their value, had been hollowed of emotion.

I tried to kill a girl. I went through with it 'til I was convinced it was done. Then I kidnapped her for her own good. Now I need to tell the people who wanted her dead, that she's gone. The people who know everyone I love.

Among others.

The task before her was daunting. What she had done was beyond words. Where she was could only be described as a no man's land. Away from her responsibilities in a physical sense, outside in the rain, but drowning in them in her reality. She wished she could desynchronize, unplug from herself, as even the hollow thoughts conveyed the impossibility of her situation. She couldn't ever be able to escape it all until someone, out there, drops dead. It could be her, just abandoning all attachment to the living world with a rope or a bottle of bleach. It could be Miku, but not by her hands. That would be tragically convenient for everyone. It could be her entire family and all of her friends, freeing her from having so much to lose. Or it could be her employer, freeing them all.

But all Luka could do was pretend that the tealette was dead, and try to convince the girl to play that role. Convince her that it's all she could do. There simply was no other way out.

She wondered how difficult it would be. How long it would last. How long it would take until their situation would appear in the headlines, how quickly the police would find them. She wondered if the rain would erase their footprints on the river bank. If Miku would trust her. If she hadn't left already. Did she lock the door?

Luka passed by a bank and saw the time; nine o'clock. Miku usually would still be asleep. But her situation wasn't usual. She could be awake. She could be long gone. An assassin could be on their way to kill everyone she loved right then.

She wondered how she would deal with the death of her loved ones. She wouldn't ever put it past Miku. Ever. Only herself. How dare I get myself involved with such people. How dare I try to fix it all.

But try she did. She looked at the shopping bag she held. Clothes, dark chocolate. A new pair of shoes, the most important object. They were similar to the ones she'd tossed into the river: teal and purple, with black details. They were the same size. She hoped they would fit. She hoped that her employer wasn't watching her right then, wondering why she was buying clothes and shoes in the wrong sizes. But what stopped them? What stopped them from knowing already? After all, she knew that they had access to security footage on the streets. That she wasn't the only person with a camera they had hired. Closed shutters, locked doors, pulled curtains...did they help at all? Simply stepping outside, was that enough to ruin everything?

Could people tell that she had tried to kill a person?

Normally, Luka would have gone out of her mind from paranoia from the thoughts alone.

But she was too busy just...trying to process it all.

Shopping helped, maybe. It's fun. Distracting, really.

Approaching her building, she realized she couldn't be nervous or happy. She couldn't entertain the possibility that Miku really had fled. Whatever will be, will be, she figured. She'd keep surviving somehow. The world keeps spinning, no? It's spinning a bit fast, though, maybe.

The door was still locked when she tried to open it. The spare keys were in the drawer with the cutlery. Easy to find. Miku hadn't tried to leave, then. Maybe.

Luka opened the door, leaving her umbrella in the hall to dry, taking off her shoes and shedding her jacket. She didn't say anything, preferring to be noticed than making herself noticeable, should the tealette be awake. She looked at the kitchen, briefly, and noted that nothing had moved. Either the girl still slept, or she hadn't even tried to eat anything. Then she opened the door to the main room, and saw Miku on the couch, looking at her photo album.

Oh.

Luka probably should have noticed that the bed had been put away to make the couch, that the photo album did contain baby pictures, which should spur some form of embarrassment, but she could only notice one thing: Miku was still wearing her hoodie.

It was far too big for the girl: it hung from her shoulders. It was also much darker than anything the tealette usually wore. Her white, blue and pink hues here covered by a large black mass. Yet somehow, she was suddenly... Luka couldn't put her finger on it. Endearing, like a child wearing oversized clothes? Frail, like a chick under a parent's wing? Or maybe she was suddenly real. Real, because the doll was no longer in her dollhouse, dressed in her doll clothes, and was marked by this object of the outside world. Surrounded by it. A comic character who had stepped out of the page, who had crossed dimensions.

She snapped out of it quickly but found that the emotional filter had melted away. Once again, it all stole Luka's breath. The feeling that had seized her the previous night seized her a second time. Miku was a real girl. She was alive. It was like waking up all over again. Her new stakes pressed against her emotions, raw. She was afraid. She was nervous. She was paranoid. The reality of it all, of their situation, shook her apart.

She leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to prevent her mind from unraveling. Reminding herself that she hadn't killed, that there was still hope no matter how small, that it wasn't all bad, that she was doing her best. Meager comfort.

They're both alive, she told herself. As long as she can breathe...everything can still be fixed.

It'll just take a while. A little bit of effort.

Luka breathed deeply, calming herself slowly. Quietly. After all, Miku was just in the other room. Looking at her photo album. Can't blame the curiosity, she thought, the girl can roam around the home as much as she wants if that would make her feel a bit safer.

What would really help, though, would be telling her exactly who her 'rescuer' was. She needed to tell her everything. Miku deserved all the answers to all the questions she had to ask. She owed it to her. No more hiding, no more beating around the bush. One deep sigh later, Luka entered the main room. Miku looked up, putting the photos down.

"Good morning," she said, her voice stronger than before, but there remained a foggy feeling of caution.

Luka tried to answer in kind, hoping to sound at least somewhat friendly but feared that she lacked the strength to properly convey that.

"Sleep well?" asked the tealette.

"No, I didn't sleep. You?" Luka answered as she pulled up a chair and sat in front of the girl.

"It... It was strange. Sharing a room. Even if you weren't sleeping, I suppose."

Luka couldn't answer, but she tried. She tried for too long, however.

"Was it too uncomfortable? The pillows on the floor."

Luka, briefly confused, turned to see where she had tried to sleep. Right. Couch cushions, thin blanket. She'd had worse: a sleeping bag on concrete floor between two walls.

Why would the girl even be concerned about her?

"It was ok."

Luka shook her head. No more beating around the bush. She was going to tell Miku everything. Everything. But how could she do that, knowing that in order to keep Miku safe, she needed to make her feel safe where she was?

She inhaled deeply, avoiding Miku's confused gaze.

"I- I'm going to tell you the whole story," she started, hating the stutter. "It...might be difficult to wrap your head around it all, so just listen. Or... Or if you want me to stop, then tell me. We'll take a break, if, euh, if you need it. And, I'll answer all of your questions, promise. But, when I'm done. Ok?"

The tealette considered the offer for a brief moment, before nodding. The album was put back on the table, closed and forgotten. She leaned back, but Luka stayed with her elbows on her knees, suddenly uneasy, self-conscious, and so, so scared.

"Two years ago, I posted an advertisement of sorts online. I like following people."

She briefly talked about her once-upon-a-time hobby. Why she liked it. What was fun. What she had learned. Explained that that was why she was there, right then. But even as she spoke about what once fascinated her, she could only feel a strong nausea.

Then she spoke of the first request. She didn't hide that it had been her father, who she had been following. Then there was the invitation, the easy first months on the job.

Explaining that she had been inside her home was a challenge. But she somehow managed, going through the points in some sort of order. She even brought out the tools she had used, like her trusted knife, to illustrate what exactly she had done and how she had proceeded. Mapping out the home, finding the hollow, discovering Miku's need for a midnight drink of hot milk. Then it was making a full schedule of everybody's lives, knowing what everybody did 24/7, admitting that she had quit her job to do so, admitting that she was being paid handsomely, showing the money as she told her story.

"I was your ghost."

The difficult part. I was the one who followed you. Hurt you. Tortured you. She explained the doubt, during Miku's birthday, during Christmas. She explained the stakes. But she didn't want pity. Just understanding. She tried to be unbiased, to tell the facts as they were. She said that she had abandoned the hollow mere hours before Miku had adopted it. That she was under the stairs she walked on. That missing each other by a hair was a daily thing.

"Then..."

The murder. The memories were blurry. But they both had them. Only the perspectives changed. Nausea assaulted Luka with a vengeance. The cuts and bruises stung still, the lining of her cheeks was bumpy, and she wanted to bite at the wounds.

"You...know the rest."

Miku looked at the various tools and safes resting on the table, eyeing the large bills they contained. She remained quiet for a bit of time, nodding every now and then, probably coming to mental conclusions, tiny epiphanies of sorts, 'Oh, that explains this and that'. But she didn't comment. She didn't show any emotion whatsoever. She remained silent on the couch, her form disappearing under the large hoodie.

Luka gulped, no longer on the point of snapping from the sheer tension. It was a surprising relief to get all of that off of her chest. To vent, no matter how unbiased she tried to be, just saying, sharing, what she had done.

"Can we have breakfast?"

Luka looked up in confusion. Breakfast? Right, it was almost half past ten. Neither of them had eaten. But...that was all she had to ask?

Luka nodded, standing up, still a bit shaken at Miku's seeming lack of curiosity.

"What would you like?" she asked.

"Do you have eggs?"

"Yeah, sure..."

Luka headed to the kitchen, Miku followed, leaving everything on the table. The tealette liked her eggs scrambled, so Luka prepared those. There was some confusion when she proceeded differently.

"Don't you need milk?"

"I- I don't add milk," answered the pinkette, voice still shaking somewhat. "I'm sure there are many different ways to make scrambled eggs. This is how I do it."

And to her surprise, Miku let it slide, without adding anything to the conversation. Luka could only stir the eggs in an awkward silence as Miku watched her every move.

She figured that a girl who had lived alone all of her life would have been pretty stubborn about changing the way things happen. A single child, who had never met another person of her age, no practice for her social skills, who had been kidnapped...wouldn't such a person be...less complacent? Less accepting? Less trusting? More concerned about what they had been through for over a year? More afraid of eating something prepared by your attempted-murderer?

Apparently, not. Miku ate what Luka served and even seemed to like it.

Maybe she was happy to finally explore other possibilities. To meet another person, stalker or not. Maybe she wanted so much to leave her room that even another cage is just fine to explore. Any new human is better than a reflection.

Or...

Maybe there was a reason she was isolated in the first place? Was she ill? Could she not socialize at all? Or was she a genius of sorts? Luka knew that Miku wasn't a miracle child when it came to math, at least: she'd seen her homework. But there could be something else?

Miku did thank her for the meal. Luka couldn't finish her own plate, simply throwing everything in the sink to wash later. Miku returned to the couch to continue admiring the photo album. Luka put away the safes, hiding the keys, not minding if Miku saw where they went.

She could only wonder what she could make for dinner. Most nights she would settle with next to nothing, but...she wanted to make something new for Miku. If she couldn't bring the girl outside, then at least she could share other things, she figured. If she hadn't known about chocolate until recently, what else was there that she could teach her? Show her?

Oh right, chocolate.

Luka remembered the shopping bag she'd left in the kitchen. She quickly fetched it, handing it to Miku.

"What...?"

"I got you some clothes, and a toothbrush," answered Luka, realizing that she was actually nervous, wondering whether the tealette would like what she'd gotten her. Silly worries, really, since clothes were, right then, purely pragmatic, more a comfort issue than an aesthetic one. And she wasn't going to force Miku to wear her pajamas 24/7, nor was she going to impose her own fashion and her own sizes. The girl was allowed to have proper clothes. "There's some dark chocolate, too," she added, as if a mere afterthought.

Miku unpacked the bag, looking at what was in there. But she paused when she pulled out the shoes. Luka's nerves continued to run high, so when Miku failed to do anything for more than a handful of seconds, she couldn't stop herself from speaking.

"I...could only guess for the clothes. Don't worry, I can return them if they don't end up fitting. As for the shoes, I caught a glimpse of the size yesterday... I hope they're comfortable, though."

Miku's only answer was to untie the laces. Then she paused again.

"Can I wear them inside?"

The question caught the pinkette off-guard.

"What?"

"Can I wear the shoes inside?"

"Of course..."

A tiny smile appeared, and Luka could only watch in some form of trance as she put the shoes on. Never mind being explained who tortured her, who stalked her, she asked questions about the shoes. No concern about the past. She just wanted to wear her shoes. No answers from her attacker. All she wanted was to put on the shoes.

Miku's smile grew as she admired the new footwear.

"I wasn't allowed to wear the other ones. They had black soles. They would streak the floor," she explained, her voice tiny. Yet...there was something else there.

Luka could only nod.