Before I get started, I thought I would warn you all that I don't really think this piece is meant to be romantic. So if that's what you're here for, you might be disappointed. However, I hope that doesn't deter you from finishing the story. I'm pretty excited about where it's going and can't wait for your reactions. Warning, this next chapter may or may not be triggering. There are mentions of past self harm.

The pain was so bad that I gasped, which was a bad idea; the sound set the blood pounding though my head. I lurched to my feet as the throbbing sent a wave of nausea to my stomach, stumbling to the bathroom in the most graceful way possible with my hand clamped over my mouth and nose. I crashed noiselessly into the washroom, staggered into the basin a bit, and fell to my knees beside the toilet just in time. To put it nicely, I lost all of the break-dinner from last night.

I was a bit too preoccupied with heaving the contents of my stomach out through my esophagus to notice that someone had followed me to the bathroom. He came into the bathroom and turned on the light. Pain exploded through me once again and I groaned weakly.

"No… light…" And it flicked off again.

"Are you okay?" He half whispered.

I shook my head, but even that mild movement felt horrid. "No." I said again.

"What do you need? Can I get it for you?"

"I don't know… I just… need sleep…."

I lay down on the carpet and pressed my forehead to the floor, the tiles felt wonderfully cool against my fevered skin. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on something other than the pulse that I could feel in my temples. I clutched my arms into myself and curled slightly as I fell asleep.

The next time I woke up I was wrapped in a duvet with a pillow under my head to protect it from the hard linoleum. It was early morning, judging from the grey light of the house. There was a lanky frame by the bathtub, elbows on knees and head resting in hands. There was a water bottle that sat beside him as well as a little bowl with about an inch of water in the bottom.

"Hey," I croaked.

His head shot up at my hoarse voice and he handed me the bottle of water. "Hey back. How are you feeling?"

"Better." I said, taking the bottle and sucking down the contents greedily. "I had a migraine."

"Yeah, I worked that out sometime between 2:30 and 5:00."

"Sorry for waking you, I've never had a migraine before." I said apologetically.

"No problem, I'm just glad you're alive. I don't know how I would have dumped the body." He joked.

I laughed as I stretched, flinching away from the cold floor. When I rubbed my eyes I felt a damp cloth on my forehead. That was nice. I imagined this man, who I barely knew now but had known so well some other time, staying up with me for who knew how many hours, replacing a cloth and making sure I was comfortable.

I stiffly stood up, then grabbed his hand and helped him out of his cramped position as well.

"Oh God, my bum hurts. Sitting too long in one place…."

"Sorry-"

"Look, if I wanted to move I would have. It was my choice, alright? Now go take a shower while I make breakfast."

"I will, Captain Bossy." I laughed.

He left the room and I stretched, making a mental note that the bathroom floor isn't the best place to sleep. I headed back to my room, shedding my clothes as soon as the door closed. Once at my dresser and I searched through the drawers for a new shirt, trousers and pants. My hands fell upon a black shirt with a ring of light on the front, orange spotty pants, but no more sweatpants. Jeans would suck to put on right after a shower. So I recycled the pants I wore yesterday.

I avoided the mirror in the bathroom, deciding too much exposed skin might freak me out a bit. I'd check myself out when I had more nerve. With towel waiting, I stepped into the warm spray of water, sighing contentedly. Locating the array of body washes and shampoos and conditioners was easy, and I poured a small amount of mint shampoo into my hands and went to work on my hair. A similar scented conditioner followed.

Grabbing a wash cloth, I selected a tube of body wash. It was raspberry flavored, so I replaced it on the shelf, opting for a slightly manlier smell. Another bottle was labeled Phoenix. What does a phoenix smell like? Sulfur and ashes?

Shrugging, I squeezed some into the cloth and worked it into a lather, then began to wash up. I looked down for the first time and dropped the bottle of body gel in shock. It clattered away from me loudly, but I made no move to recapture it. I was staring transfixed at the scene below me. Numerous scars marred the golden flesh of my thighs, long and thin but dark.

A muffled voice called, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" I yelled distractedly, peering in horror at the web of lines that decorated my skin.

They went in several directions and many overlapped, indicating a long period of time where new cuts would be added. My mind raced wildly as I tried to remember making these marks, as I made a fruitless effort to recall a reason for them being there. Of course I came up empty, the amnesia not giving in the least; you would think an existential crisis would bring up some old memories.

But no-

Then it hit me.

The smell of blood, the tang it left in my mouth. The hot water poured over my back and legs, turning rusty as it slipped down into the rivulets that ran toward the drain. Flesh sang apart under a blade that I gripped carefully to keep it from slipping from my grasp, particularly under the onslaught from the showerhead.

A particularly long slash sent a pulse of satisfaction through me and I smiled with primal zeal as I wiped the blood away to peer at the depth, but the crimson liquid welled up again instantly.

I yanked my head out of the memory with a gasp and for a moment I was disoriented by the lack of blood. The only smell was mint, not the rusty scent I was expecting. I shook my head to try and clear it of the dark thoughts, but only succeeded in settling my wet fringe over my eyes. I blindly shut off the water and stumbled out of bath. My feet slipped on the tiles and I threw out my hands to catch myself on the sink. With my fingers gripping the basin I looked up into the mirror and thought how fucking cliché of a movie moment is this?

I stared at my scared eyes and tried to calm the shaking in my limbs. It didn't really work, so I sat down on the toilet lid and stared down at my legs. The scars stared back. I remembered them but at the same time I couldn't remember at all. This is bullshit! Why can't this just end?! My hand rose tentatively and I brought my fingers to my leg. The furrowed tissue rippled under tanned digits, and I bit back a wave of terror. Years of abuse had been wreaked on my flesh, the criss-crossing tracks clearly old. They tingled where I touched them.

"Hey! Breakfast is ready!" The call snapped me out of my reverie and I nearly slid to the floor. I hurriedly dried myself off, stepping into my clean clothes with damp skin. I brought the towel with me, rubbing my hair as I walked to the kitchen. Act normal, Jesus. I turned the corner to see him eating a bunch of scrambled eggs and some toast.

"We're going to need to go buy more eggs if we keep going through them this way… and probably bread." He said.

I laughed, a bit nervous as I adjusted my trousers, but was careful not to betray my anxiety. "Yeah? D'you think we have any money here? I mean, we could go out to a shop, get the essentials."

"Right, I don't know about money… I mean, I hope we don't have to starve to death. That would be… unfortunate." I laughed again as I grabbed my own plate of eggs, which were not burned. Thankfully.

"I found out how to work the coffee maker, so I made you some. It's probably a bit cold now though…"

I took a sip of the java drink, and it and shuddered internally. It wasn't the cold that bothered me, I apparently don't like coffee black. I stirred in some cream and tasted it, then added sugar for good measure until I was happy with it. "You want some?"

He shook his head. "I prefer tea in the morning. And I like it with two lumps of sugar. I'm learning a lot this morning."

"That's good; at least some things are starting to come back to you." I said, taking another swig of chilled coffee.

"What about you, have you stared remembering anything yet?" He asked me.

I nearly choked on my drink. "Uh, just bits and pieces really, nothing special." Except for the fact that used to drag a blade of some sort across my skin. But he doesn't need to know that.

His brow furrowed. "Hmm, I wonder why I'm remembering more than you. Perhaps we need something to trigger our memories?"

"Yeah… that sounds about right."

"Well," he said, pushing his chair back from the table, "I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night, so I'm going to take a nap."

"Right, you don't have to be up now. Please, go back to sleep, I'll be quiet."

He settled down on the couch and snuggled under the blanket, pulling it all the way up to his chin like a young child. As I went about my business, cleaning the kitchen and generally washing up, I kept tabs on him, just looked over once in a while. He looked so small and vulnerable, curled up and defenseless on that sofa.

Done in the kitchen, I moved into the living room and closed the blinds. It wouldn't be like night, but darker was better for sleeping. In the dim light, shadows played over his face. I smiled and went to get my laptop, deciding to do more research because I had nothing else to do.

I settled in the recliner I was supposed to have slept in last night and got comfy. As I worked, I would keep checking on him. A little crease had formed between his brows and he seemed to be muttering something. As his murmurs grew louder, I set the computer aside and knelt next to him, laying a hand on his arm. When that did nothing I shook him a little bit.

He lashed out and his flailing limbs nearly hit me in the face. His voice had definitely escalated and with one final "No!" he lurched forward into a sitting position. He cowered with his face in his hands, leaning into the back of the sofa. I put my hands on his shoulders, doing my best to coax him in to full consciousness. I tried not to let my fear show on my face, tried not to let him see how this upset me. It wasn't easy.

"Hey, shh, it's alright. Just look at me, that's it. No need to be scared, shh, it's okay, it's okay. It was just a dream."

He looked at me with confusion in his eyes, then I saw something form in them. His fear and bewilderment subsided and he looked at me with a bit of clarity. "Dan?" he asked.

My mind reeled, "What did you say?"

A/N: Hey, thanks again for reading. I'm going to raise the rating for triggering material, although it probably won't always be graphic like this last chapter. And it wasn't that bad… right?