Fast update! I hate my iPad because I wrote most of this chapter yesterday and then I deleted it on accident, but then I rewrote the whole thing. My hands hurt and I'm dying, but there's an update!

Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.

Saturday, June 25th, 7:00 A.M.

Screams.

That's the first thing Patricia Williamson hears when she wakes up.

The screams are loud. Too loud. Dominantly male, but there is a female scream mixed in as well. Patricia sighs; her apartment neighbor, Alfie, must be getting robbed. His girlfriend must be there too. Don't they know how thin the apartment walls are?

She gets up. Rubs her eyes. Checks her phone.

7:00 A.M.

Her eyes widen in panic. She goes in at eight today. Her alarm was supposed to wake her up an hour ago. Why isn't it set? She angrily grabs the alarm clock. Shakes it. Finds the batteries have been removed, when she never even touched the battery compartment.

Shit.

She hurries to get dressed. It's a good thing she showered yesterday, of she would be later than she already is. She grabs a brush, runs it through her hair, and then starts her coffee maker.

The screams still sound. Huh, maybe Patricia should've called 911.

Maybe she still could.

Maybe she should.

Her coffee is done. She takes the mug. Sips at the hot liquid. Grimaces at the bitter taste. She doesn't like plain black coffee, but she drinks it on mornings like these to remind herself what bitter is, because she's always tempted to go into a foul mood, and she can't do that today.

Three minutes. Three minutes to finish her coffee, and then she'll call 911.

Besides, Alfie is a wimp. Maybe a robbery is what he needs. Something to scare him. Maybe his girlfriend needs it, too. Her name is Amber or something. She works with Patricia, and she's a wimp too. They both need a scare of some sort...

BANG.

Slim fingers that once encircled her coffee mug's handle let go.

The white porcelain cup falls victim to the hard black tile floor. The hot, brown liquid spills out first, and then the cup hits, exploding shards of white all over her small kitchen floor.

She runs.

Digs through her closet. Finds the black shoebox she keeps there. Grabs the loaded handgun she never thought she'd have to use, but now she has to go help. She doesn't like helping. Doesn't do it. But it's too late for 911 to come. Too late for her wimpy neighbors to be spared.

A robbery is one thing.

Murder is another.

She exits her apartment carefully. Positions the gun just right. Waits outside of Alfie's apartment door. One, two, three. Then she moves quickly and kicks down the door in one swift motion, holding the gun out, and time seems to stop.

Alfie looks at her. Tears drip down his face, one by one.

Alfie's girlfriend looks at her. But it's not Alfie's girlfriend. Amber Millington is blond with blue eyes and a ditzy exterior. This girl has auburn hair and jade eyes, and her name is not Amber. Her name is Piper Williamson, and she is Patricia's twin sister.

The gunman looks at Patricia. Surges forward. Pushes a gun to Piper's temple.

"Get out, or she dies," the gunman says through gritted teeth.

Patricia takes a step back.

Alfie's tears drip off more violently.

Patricia takes one more step back. Keeps the gun raised.

The room is messy. Clothes are strewn about. Something is boiling on the stove and is boiling over the lid. Alfie's bed has a bullet hole in it. A bullet hole the gunman must have put in it to scare Alfie and Piper.

One more step.

There. That's three steps. That's all Patricia needs.

"Put the gun down," comes the next order.

But the gunman doesn't understand. Hasn't made the connection. Doesn't realize how alike Piper and Patricia look. Doesn't realize what family is willing to do for each other. Doesn't realize he's not going to kill Piper. Doesn't realize he isn't going to win.

Patricia counts to three.

One.

"I said, put the gun down!"

Two.

The gunman angrily moves his arm as if to shoot Patricia instead.

Three.

A single pale finger pulls the trigger.

BANG.

The gunman staggers backwards. He isn't dead yet. His blood seeps through his shirt, spreading quickly over his chest. His gun clatters onto the floor and he falls next to it. He's gasping for breath. Blubbering for his life.

But he's dead. Not yet, but he will be. Patricia knows blood. Always will know blood. That much blood in such a short time is equivalent to his death, no matter how fast they can get him carted off to a hospital.

Piper rushes to Alfie's side then. Clutches his arms. Sobs to him. Sobs something Patricia can't understand, but Alfie does, and he grabs her into a tight hug, sobbing just as hard as she does.

Patricia watches. Wonders.

Why is Piper here with Alfie? She should be in another country.

Why isn't Amber with Alfie? She's his girlfriend.

How is Alfie good enough to get two girls? He's stupid.

Alfie looks over at Patricia. He sees the resemblance between her and Piper, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he chokes out a mangled thank-you and keeps holding onto Piper.

Piper never meets Patricia's eye.

This hurts Patricia, because she hates Piper. Always has. Piper's always been the prettier twin. She's always been the better twin. That's why Patricia hates her. But there's something about the people Patricia hates that always mess up her life, because Patricia loves Piper. She really, honestly does.

And Piper had to go and get herself almost killed.

And Patricia had to save her.

And Piper won't even say anything. Won't explain herself.

So it's with a cold voice that Patricia orders, "Call 911."

Alfie nods.

Piper sobs.

Patricia leaves. Counts.

One, two, three.

Tuesday, June 28th, 10:30 A.M.

Patricia opens her eyes. She never realized they were closed.

Eddie is still there. Still watching. Still waiting.

Patricia itches to move. To leave. The way he stares at her is creepy. She doesn't like it. She doesn't like him. She shouldn't have to tell him these things. She shouldn't be telling him anything.

But...

"What happened?" Patricia blurts.

Eddie leans forward slightly. "What?"

"With Piper. What happened with Piper? Where is she now? Is she okay?"

Eddie just smiles sadly. "You know the answer to that, Patricia."

Her name sounds weird coming from his lips. It always has. But the sound of her name leaving his lips instead of Yacker isn't what pisses her off. It's his answer that does.

"No I don't," Patricia snaps.

Eddie just nods. "You do. Keep going."

Patricia frowns. Why is it he won't answer her questions? Why is it that he's here? Why does she have to tell him anything when he won't give her a simple answer to anything? Why does she have to remember? Why do he and Joy both insist she remember?

Joy...where's Joy? Patricia would rather talk to Joy.

"Where's Joy?" she demands.

Eddie isn't fazed by her question. "Outside," he says. "In the hall."

"I want to talk to her." Patricia eyes him carefully. Watches the expression his face gives. It's almost as though he's hurt by her words, but all he does is touch the part of his neck where his tattoo used to be and doesn't say anything.

One, two, three, and then he speaks. "You can't."

"Why not?" Patricia keeps demanding. She's always demanding.

Eddie considers the question. Almost doesn't want to answer it. But he does. "Because we both just want you to remember, and I need to hear you talk about it," he explains.

"Why can't she hear me talk about it?"

Eddie sighs. Blinks tired green eyes. "Because you'll hurt her," he answers simply.

Patricia won't just take that as an answer. "Hurt her how?"

"Patricia, you witnessed things Joy and I didn't," Eddie says. "There might be a memory from that day that causes Joy pain, or makes her upset. That's how you'll hurt her."

Patricia frowns. "What if I hurt you too?"

"You will," Eddie says, and he bites his lip to refrain from saying anything else.

"Then why are you going to listen to me even if it'll hurt you?"

Eddie laughs dryly. Shakes his head. "You know the answer to that one too."

Patricia frowns. She still doesn't like his answers. Still doesn't like him.

"Does she not know I killed a man?" Patricia questions further.

"She knows." Eddie shrugs it off. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Did you know?"

Eddie smirks. "You know the answer to that."

Patricia scowls. "I'm not going to keep going unless you answer me," she says.

Eddie leans back in his chair. "Yacker," he begins.

Patricia cuts him off again. "No," she says. "I'm serious. It was just three bloody days I forgot, not three years. Not my life. I don't need to remember something as small as three days. I especially don't need to be telling you what happened those three days."

"You're missing the point here," Eddie says lazily, and he stays leaned back. "You're not remembering for just you. Remember? You witnessed things Joy and I didn't. You saw everything. We didn't."

Patricia remembers the way Joy said everything earlier.

The way Joy's eyes misted.

Patricia realizes, then, that something bad has happened, and it relates to Joy. Something has hurt Joy, and Patricia is the only one who knows what it is, and what happened specifically.

So Patricia closes her eyes again.

Saturday, June 25th, 7:55 A.M.

"You're later than usual, aren't you, Yacker?"

Patricia bites her tongue. Of course Eddie Miller is going to be coming in late the same day she does. And there he is, clocking in right beside her, flashing her that teasing grin and calling her that stupid nickname he always gives her.

"I am," she replies curtly. "So are you, I see."

"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "But I'm on time, since all I have to do is clock in. You have to meet Joy, don't you? She's a very punctual woman, and our boss, so, you have it worse."

Patricia scowls. "Joy doesn't care."

"Right, I forgot, you two are best friends," Eddie says. "Must be nice, knowing the boss can never fire you or get mad at you. And you probably get promotions way faster than the rest of us, too, right?"

Patricia frowns. "What do you care about promotions?"

Eddie Miller doesn't have to care. He and another American, Nina Martin, are on exchange for two of their workers for just a year, and they've only been here a month. They can't get fired. Can't get promoted. What does he care?

"I don't, but your coworkers do," Eddie replies. "Want to share an elevator?"

No, Patricia doesn't want to share an elevator. But she's later than usual, and Eddie's right, Joy is very punctual. And since Eddie works on the same floor Patricia has to go to, they might as well.

"Fine," Patricia snaps.

Eddie grins.

They get in the elevator. Patricia pushes the button for the third floor. Eddie leans against the side of the elevator as they wait for the doors to close, and someone else goes in, pressing the second floor button, much to Patricia's chagrin.

"So, do anything new this morning?" Eddie asks casually.

Patricia turns her head at him. Fast. "What do you care?" she asks. Her voice is tense. Defensive. Even though she tells herself that she killed a man in self-defense, she's horrified of what she has done. Jumpy, too, and Eddie is not helping.

The door opens and the person leaves for the second floor.

"Hey, don't shoot me too," Eddie jokes, holding up his hands in surrender.

Patricia's mouth falls open.

Eddie blanches. His hands fall to his sides. He realizes his mistake.

Suddenly Patricia is grabbing him by his shirt collar, thrusting her body weight forward and shoving him against the elevator doors, yanking his shirt with clenched fingers as she glares at him, both angry and confused at the same time.

"What do you know?" she hisses.

Eddie tries to move out of her grip. "N-nothing! I-"

"What. Do. You. Know," Patricia repeats, and she shoves him. Hard.

"I-"

The elevator doors open.

Eddie falls backwards.

Patricia falls forward.

They collide on the floor, a tangle of limbs and angry protests.

"Get off of me, Slimeball!" Patricia snaps.

"First of all, you are on top of me! And second of all-"

"Shut up! Just get out of my way-!"

Patricia elbows him across the face as she gets up, and Eddie hits his head against her stomach as he gets up too. When they're both standing and fixing their clothing and hair (Patricia more than him), Patricia takes that moment to glare at him.

How does he know she killed a man?

Eddie tugs at his shirt, not noticing her glare, and that's when Patricia sees the tattoo on his neck. It's her name. Not her full name, just her first name, but it makes her wonder why he has it.

"Way to almost kill me," Eddie says as he brushes off his pants.

But Patricia doesn't hear him. Doesn't care to.

"What is that?" she demands instead. Points at his neck.

He places a hand on his neck, and he blushes. "It's a name," he mumbles.

"It's my name," Patricia counters. "Why do you have it?"

Eddie laughs, then. "You're assuming it's for you. Well, don't flatter yourself, Yacker. I'll have you know it's for another girl," he informs her. "So don't worry about it." Still, he raises his collar and arranges his shirt to hide it.

Patricia frowns. "I was not assuming anything."

"Uh-huh." Eddie smirks smugly.

Patricia gets angrier. "Don't get cocky, you arse. Don't forget that you are not off the hook. Tell me what you bloody know, or I might as well shoot you," she demands.

Eddie falters slightly. One, two, three. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insists, playing the innocent. "You must've misheard me, because I never said-"

"You know very well what you said!" Patricia snaps.

"A-hem."

Patricia and Eddie both turn to see Joy Mercer standing there.

A hand on her hip and a smirk on her lips, Joy is the very image of amusement as her brown eyes flicker from Eddie to Patricia, and Patricia finds her face going red when she realizes Joy has been waiting for her.

"If you two are done bickering," Joy says calmly, "I've been waiting."

"Uh, sorry, boss," Eddie manages out. "I'll- get to work."

"Yes, you very well should, Mr. Miller," Joy says curtly.

Eddie hurries off, placing a hand on his neck.

Patricia sighs once they're alone. "Joy, I'm sorry for being late," she apologizes. "Something really strange happened today, and I'll explain it, but first we'd better have that meeting-"

"Excuses," Joy says simply. "I thought you didn't like excuses."

"I...don't."

Joy breaks into a smile. "Totally kidding! You should've seen your face," she teases. "But now that you're here, we'd better get Fabian and get the meeting in order."

"Wait, Fabian?" Patricia says slowly.

"Yes." Joy briskly starts walking, and Patricia follows.

They find Fabian in the break room, chatting with the other American on exchange, Nina Martin. As they walk in, Patricia notices that Joy's eyes soften at the sight, and her face falls a little.

"Fab- Mr. Rutter," Joy says, correcting herself.

Nina and Fabian look their way.

"Oh, Jo- I mean, Ms. Mercer," Fabian says, also correcting himself. "Hello."

"Good morning, Ms. Mercer," Nina interjects kindly.

"Yes, good morning," Joy says stiffly, not looking in Nina's direction and instead looking at Fabian. "Mr. Rutter, I did page you to come to my office at eight, didn't it?"

"Y-yes, of course. Nina was just lost, and- ah, I mean, Ms. Martin-"

"It's past eight," Patricia jumps in. 'We'd better get going."

"R-right," Fabian stammers. "It's just- Ms. Martin needed help for-"

Nina looks at Fabian and tells him, "It's okay, Fabian."

"Are you sure?" Fabian says, looking at her unsurely.

"Yes. Now go!" Nina says, smiling, and Fabian smiles back gratefully.

"I'll make it up to you," he promises as he stands up, quickly heading towards the door, but keeping his eyes on Nina. Nina just smiles and waves slightly.

Joy and Patricia exit after him.

"What was that all about?" Patricia asks Joy in a low voice so Fabian won't hear.

"Nothing," Joy replies, and she raises her voice so Fabian will hear. "Fabes-" She stops. His childhood nickname always falls from her lips when she's the most vulnerable. "I mean, Fabian. Just enter my office."

Fabian doesn't. He holds the door for the two women instead.

"Morning, Ms. Mercer!" comes the chirping voice of Amber Millington as they enter Joy's office. Because she is Joy's secretary, she is always there, every morning, and it drives Patricia insane.

"Hello, Amber," Joy greets her. "Any updates?"

"The union called, but only to say they'll be here an hour later."

"That's fine, then," Joy says. "Keep my schedule open for that time. Now Ms. Williamson, Mr. Rutter and I will be in my office for the next thirty minutes or so. Under no circumstances must you interrupt us."

"Alright," Amber echoes.

"And did you bring the coffee I requested?" Joy asks.

Amber pauses. "Ohhhh. See, I knew I forgot something."

Joy sighs. "That's fine. Just keep working."

She leads Patricia and Fabian into her small side office that she uses for meetings; it's soundproof, bulletproof, and has no security cameras inside as nothing inside is ever to be recorded or heard unless she wants it to be.

"Morning, Joyless," Jerome Clarke, the security guard always stationed in Joy's office, says. "I see you've brought the whole gang: Trixie and Stutter Rutter."

Joy rolls her eyes. "Hello, Jerome."

Jerome smirks in response. "Been busy, Mercer?"

"Too busy for you, yes," Joy replies.

"Always resisting me," Jerome declares, sighing jokingly.

"Yes, because you're married. Now, did you bring me my coffee?"

Jerome hands her a coffee cup. "I did, but I don't see why you don't get Millington to get it. Isn't that what secretaries are supposed to do for the people they work for?"

Joy sighs tiredly. "I tell her the same thing."

Joy then proceeds to stop the conversation there, and she leads Patricia and Fabian inside of her side office, closing the door behind them, handing off her cofee cup to Fabian.

"So what's this all about, Joy?" Patricia asks, cutting to the chase.

Joy goes to a desk she has shoved in the small side room, grabbing a few papers. "This is what it's all about," she answers seriously, and she holds out the papers to her friends.

Fabian takes the papers first, juggling Joy's coffee as he skims over the papers. Patricia watches as his eyes widen. Watches as he whips his head fast to look at joy. Watches as he drops the coffee and then scrambles to pick it up, burning his fingers in his haste.

"Ow," he mutters as he hurriedly hands off the hot coffee to Joy.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Joy frets, taking his hand and studying the way his fingers have been scorched by the hot liquid. "I'm so sorry, I should've taken that earlier."

"I'm fine, Joy, don't worry," Fabian replies, laughing shyly. "Um-"

Joy flushes, realizing how close she is to Fabian. "I'm...sorry," she says lamely.

Patricia rolls her eyes. "Hello, the papers?"

Fabian blushes. "Oh, yeah," he says, and he grabs the papers, his face slowly becoming grave. "Is this right, Joy? Someone is stealing money from the company?"

"Yes, it is," Joy says, her face just as grave.

"Well, have you run the numbers? Checked security footage?"

"Mara ran the numbers, since she's the company's treasurer," Joy affirms. "And as for security footage, no. The money was most likely stolen using the password for the company's bank account."

"Who knows the password?" Fabian asks readily.

"Only a few people. Mara's one of them," Joy says. "I haven't told anyone else in the company that money has been stolen except for you two and Mara. I don't want to get the police just yet, either, because I'm worried of the bad publicity we might get."

"So what can we do?" Patricia asks.

"I'm not sure yet," Joy confesses. "I might need some help with that."

"We'll help you," Fabian says automatically.

Patricia nods. "Yeah," she agrees.

Patricia pushes her problems aside then. Killing a man, seeing Piper, knowing Eddie was hiding something...all of that didn't matter now, knowing something as bad as what is happening to the company is happening right now.

Joy smiles at them fondly. "Thank you," she says softly.

They decide to brainstorm about it later, and the three of them exit the office. Jerome's still standing out there, and he greets them as they exit teasingly with a few lewd remarks, but everyone's used to him, and they ignore him, preparing to part their separate ways.

Then Jerome's walkie-talkie buzzes to life.

"Clarke, do you copy?" Mick Campbell, another security guard, calls.

Jerome unhitches his walkie-talkie. "I copy."

"We have an intruder. Third floor," Mick announces. "He's armed."

Patricia exchanges looks with the others there.

Another gunman.

"I'm here," Jerome declares. "Tell everyone to stay in their cubicles and get under their desks over the PA system, since you're on the ground floor. I'll find the gunman before anything happens."

A single scream suddenly sounds.

The scream is female. Familiar.

Jerome's face goes white. He recognizes the scream.

BANG.

Jerome starts to run. Doesn't pause. Doesn't breathe first.

Joy, Fabian, and Patricia follow him.

Jerome slows down in the hallway. He walks closer to the third cubicle on the floor. Raises a gun he has on his belt at all times close to his face, carefully reaching the cubicle, and he peers inside.

His stomach lurches.

His heart races.

The victim of a bullet, Mara Jaffray lies on the floor, dying.

He he...don't kill me? *hides*

Thanks to my reviewers!

sheerio4ever- You really gave me motivation to keep writing. Thank you!

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