A/N: Be on the lookout for context clues. They'll be your best friend. Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed, your encouragement means so much. I really didn't expect to get that great of a reaction on the first chapter. It's definitely motivation to continue with the story.

Chapter 2

I turned away without warning, without looking back at the man at the desk or at anything else in the room. Nothing mattered, that is, with one exception. I had to get out.

My eyes locked and focused on their target, the exit. In a daze, I sped towards the main entrance doors, my surroundings becoming a complete blur. Time shifted and suddenly I was collecting every once of strength possible to push my way outside.

A harsh beam of sunlight enveloped me and I groaned, squinting at its intensity. My sight recovered at a tormenting rate, taking much longer than before, but as it did I found myself fascinated by the simplistic beauty of the environment. I took note of the mild spring air, the slight breeze, and the cloudless sky in absolute amazement, almost overcome with an instant sadness that I had missed out on all of these things. Things that I inevitably used to take advantage of.

The parking lot was only half full, which soothed my nerves somewhat. This of course aroused another problem, one that I should've considered before. Yes, I have the key to a car, but which one does it belong to? And what if that car isn't even here?

I reached down and pulled the key from my pocket, pressing the unlock button on the keypad attached to it several times. I crossed the pavement as the flashing headlights and alarm sound revealed the mystery automobile I was looking for.

Jogging over to the driver's side, I took in the vehicle in front of me. It was nothing special, a casual black Ford truck, but just nice enough to catch my attention. I hesitantly opened the door, grabbing onto the handle above me near the window to steady myself, and plopped down into the leather seat.

I sniffed at the scent of faint perfume, which probably should have reminded me of something, but it didn't. I glanced around attentively at the objects inside the passenger seat. A green jacket was laying there, as well as a couple CDs and old gum wrappers. It was strange that it seemed like all of this was left untouched, as if it had been there for a long time.

A layer of dust covered the dash, confirming my beliefs. Intrigued, I grabbed a CD and read over the label. "Songs we love" was written in bubbly letters and I almost smiled at the vision I got of two people singing loudly and horribly to their favorite songs with the windows rolled down. I didn't know what was sadder, the fact that it was only a vision, or the fact that I had to wonder if that ever really happened to me.

I laid the CD back where I found it once I realized that music wouldn't miraculously change that. One step at a time, I thought to myself. I was so easily overwhelmed and so vulnerable at this point. You could tell me I was a unicorn right now and I'd fully agree.

A moment of bravery later and I stuck the key into the ignition. I sucked in a deep breath and shifted from neutral to reverse, praying that this would all come naturally and I wouldn't just end up right back in the hospital I was leaving. I backed out arguably slower than a sloth, taking extra precautions to make sure I wasn't about to run somebody over. God, with my luck, it didn't even seem like a joke.

I started to change the gear to drive when I noticed the navigation touch screen light up. An automated voice filled my ears, belting out driving directions as a map appeared on the screen. I stared at it, baffled, as the destination came into view before me. It was the same address that was written in the note. Part of me was relieved at this anonymous act of generosity, but part of me was terrified. Now, I didn't have to find this street on my own, but at the same time, I shuddered at the fact that somebody had deliberately planned this out for me.

Somebody had been sitting in the same seat that I was maybe just mere hours ago and programmed this route into the system. I sat up even straighter in my seat, becoming more on edge. My nerves were far past shot, to say the least. I pulled out of the lot onto the highway, procrastinating for as long as possible to catch up speed. Where I was going was only 15 minutes away, according to the navigation, even though the drive there would more than likely feel like hours. The automated voice spoke up again, instructing me to turn, and I complied. From the window, lush green grass was visible, surrounding chic clothing stores and restaurants, and pine trees decorated the yards of cozy, modern homes.

It all whizzed by before I had the chance to absorb it all, leaving me tapping my fingers on the steering wheel just so I could hear something other than the sound of me breathing too quickly to be normal. I'd bet everything I have that staying alive is the least of the average teenager's worries right now, but everything I have is nothing. Maybe, one day, I'd be average. That is, if you can define average as looking over your shoulder every 2 seconds to make sure no one is trying to assassinate you.

I rolled to a stop at a red light, taking the time to find comfort in the fact that I would be arriving at wherever this was soon. I directed my attention to the left side mirror, glimpsing at all the faces occupying the cars behind me. A woman with red hair in her mid 50s appeared to be having an argument with someone over the phone, shaking her head and closing her eyes, running her hands over her face. Her husband sat beside her, presumably used to this behavior, and took a bite of his Subway sandwich while readjusting his glasses.

The person sitting in the driver's seat of the vehicle behind them, however, was the one I realized I had noticed too many times. The same red Pontiac had accompanied me at the last stoplight, and now that I think of it, the last turn, too. I strained to see behind the tinted glass, and what I saw caught me off guard in more ways than one.

It's the way she's looking at me. A pair of cerulean eyes pierced mine, returning my stare, and I had a feeling they had been looking in my direction for longer than I had been looking in hers. Her blonde hair was curled, her expression cold and hard. Her facial features were striking, no doubt, with predominant check bones and perfect heart shaped lips. Whatever she was thinking about, it was intense, and it didn't seem like she intended on dropping it. Just like she didn't drop her glower.

I flinched and averted my eyes hastily, the tension like needles pricking my skin through the thick air. The light shifted back to green and I practically floored the gas with a powerful intuition to leave the area. I could have been overreacting, I thought, my adrenaline had been pumping full fledge ever since I woke up alone. But coincidences don't leave your stomach tied in knots, meaning that she passed casually cruising 6 blocks ago.

I wanted a confirmation, I wanted to throw her off. If I made a couple wrong turns at random and she was still following me, I'd know. Venturing off course, however, was just asking for more trouble. It would be so easy to lose my way in this city when I have absolutely no knowledge of how to get around.

So I stuck to the plan. As I turned onto the last and final road, she must have decided that she felt sympathy and decided to show me mercy. I eased into the driveway at 201 Graden Street as the navigation pinged for the last time, sitting in deafening silence, waiting. She passed me by, by some gift of god, and continued on. When she was completely out of sight, I let out a tense, deep breath and deemed it safe enough to get out of the truck.

It was in that moment that I finally had a chance to look at the small house in front of me. It was modern and simple like the vehicle, inviting even. I liked it, despite the slightly untrimmed lawn and the ordinary flaws here and there, it represented that beauty is made of imperfections. It's just a matter of looking past them and seeing the potential versus having a negative outlook.

I didn't know myself at all, all I knew was that I wanted to know, and that was the scariest part of it all. But I think I could've seen myself living here in the past, even if I hadn't. There was only one way to find out.

I made my way to the front door, straightening my shirt self consciously before turning the knob. It was already unlocked, as I figured it would be. I stepped inside, making sure to lock it behind me, my eyes hovering over the room.

It appeared as though somebody lived here, and I almost felt disrespectful for barging in. The only lights on were lamps, which seemed appropriate since it was approaching late evening. I passed the living room, noticing 2 couches and a TV with the volume muted. Everything matched nicely, the colors of the wall coordinating well with the furniture and floor. The only thing I didn't understand was the lack of pictures on the walls, or on the tabletops, even. I didn't think it was possible for a home not to have any.

I went from room to room observing, checking for any clue as to why I was supposed to be here. I pulled the note out of my pocket once more, reading over it again to assure myself that I was at the right place. I was. There had to be something.

A dresser in the corner of an average bedroom attracted my interest, so I moved towards it, unsure of what exactly I was expecting to find. I started with the first drawer on the left side, opening it leisurely to examine the contents within.

I skimmed through blank sheets of paper, empty picture frames and phone chargers like they were going to disappear, all to no avail. That was just the top layer, there was so much more to be looked through underneath, but something in my gut gave me the instinct that everything I wanted to find was hidden. Purposely.

I dug deeper and extended my hand towards what seemed to be an old, unused cell phone. It was a pink Razor, flipping open to reveal a keypad that required you to press a single button multiple times just to type the letter you needed. Above that was a small screen, which I scrutinized to figure out to get the device to power on.

I blinked, and abruptly, all the lights were on. I jolted forward, tossing the phone back where I'd found it, slamming the drawer in an instantaneous fear. I blinked again, and just like that, all the lights were off. Even the lamps.

Hastily, I pushed my back up against the dresser in a protective manner, trying my best to maintain completely silent. My palms were sweaty as I rubbed them together, straining to hear even the slightest movement amongst the house.

For a millisecond, I thought I heard something. As light as a feather, but lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting for its chance to pounce. And then, there was nothing at all, silence again. It was just a creaky floorboard.

Oh, how I wished it was.

A single pair of hands emerged from nowhere and everywhere, tightly covering my mouth before I had a chance to call out. I struggled against them, frantically trying to remove them, held against my will.

A feminine voice emerged amidst the shuffle, low and demanding. "Don't scream," She advised, "Nobody's gonna come running to your rescue."

She loosened her grip ever so faintly as a tiny sliver of light snaked its way up to her face, tattle telling her identity. Those cerulean eyes were back. And this time, there was no escaping them.

A/N: So who is the mystery girl at the end? Does she have any connection to Emily or the house? Tell me what you guys are thinking in the review section.