sanc·tu·ar·y

/ˈsaNGk(t)SHəˌwerē/

noun

1. A place of refuge or safety.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." I muttered as I drove.

I'd been lost for so long it's what I was used to, kinda like a person who gets used to being beat I suppose. It's not that I like it, quite the opposite. Being lost sucked. There's nothing more lonely, nothing that brings more desolation to the soul.

Softly splashing water droplets hit the car windows as I drove onwards. The skies were overhung with a blanket of grey, so much so that I could barely tell the difference between the sky and clouds. Despite car rides feeling tedious, the rain commonly calmed me - I watched raindrops race down to the windows. The occasional wave of a puddle could be exciting, but I'd rather be outside in those puddles than stuck in this car.

There are days the tiredness comes in both forms, physical and mental. My body needed to rest yet my mind needed to move, to burn the anxiety right out. Without exercise my mind would keep me up all night long, without rest my body will spiral into exhaustion.

I looked at the digital clock on my dashboard, 10:42 am.

I sighed as my gas light turned on, i reached over the steering wheel and tapped the glass that separated me from the controls. The warning didn't change.

This simply wasn't my day.

I pulled my van (Which I had fondly nicknamed Toto) over to the side of the road. I had managed to get myself out of the forest area into a little town, impulsively swerving into a neighborhood.

'Well, now what?'

I glanced at my surroundings to see if I could get anyone to help me. When the house I'd pulled in front of caught my attention.

It was box-shaped with it's front door dead center, four small windows near each corner and constructed of the same red brick as The Bell. A path made out of leftover bricks made a shallow S-shape between the gate and the front door.

Making up my mind, I carefully dropped out of the white van hesitantly putting my bare feet on the blacktop, hissing when they made contact.

It took a couple attempts but I managed to lock the doors, as the button on my keychain didn't appear to work.

I walked up the front steps, looking completely insane as my hair stuck out at odd angles and clothes were torn. I looked down and noticed that my feet were covered in blood. Fabulous for first impressions, undoubtedly.

Quickly bringing my hand up, a wrapped on the door twice and stepped back, suddenly unsure of myself.

I was startled as the door was pulled open, revealing a girl about my age. The girl stood with a hip jutted to one side, her right arm draped across her slender body, clasping the elbow opposite. Her head lolled down to one shoulder casting her Auburn hair onto the faded t-shirt that was two sizes too big. It hung so low that her shorts only just peeked below the dirty hem, a fringe of denim cut-offs. Her static eyes had picked a patch of concrete with nothing to distinguish. Large bags were visible beneath her eyes, she looked like she'd been through hell.

"Can I help you?" she asked softly.

"Um…" I replied stupidly, wringing my hands. "My car ran out of gas and I was wondering if you could..help me?" I asked.

She grimaced. Looking off past me as if she could see something I couldn't. "Charlie would know how to help but ran out...I don't know anything about cars."

"Shoot." I muttered. My eyes instinctively lowered to her shirt and I froze. Suddenly, I thrusted a finger forward, jabbing at the worn grey material. "What's that from?" I asked, my voice slightly hysteric.

She looked down at her shirt and back at me. "This?" She asked. "Its a Panic! At the disco band t-shirt." She said with a fond smile."Well," she said cutting herself off. "I call it a band but-"

"Everyone knows it's just Brendon Urie." We finished at the same time.

She smiled at me in happy surprise, happiness looked good on her. "Favorite song?" She asked hurriedly.

"Death Of A Bachelor." I said, it felt like a knee jerk response.

"Album?"

"Again, Death Of A Bachelor."

She hummed, crossing her arms. "Respectable but, take into consideration: A Fever You Can't Sweat Out."

I laughed. "I knew I heard bitterness about Brendon Urie solo-ing it. So you liked the band then?"

She shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Call me old fashion."

I gestured to the both of us. "This," I said. "Is many things, but old fashion is not one of them."

She laughed.

We were sucked into an awkward silence that made my skin crawl. I rubbed my arms as a chill crawled up my spine.

"Anyway," I coughed. "I'll just ask someone else.." I began, starting to leave.

"No!" she yelled, looking desperate. I froze.

"I-I mean, he should be back soon, so you should just wait for him." She said quickly. I opened my mouth to respond as I was pulled into the house.

"Should I wait outside?" I asked shyly. "I'm all dirty."

"You can take a shower here if you want, then you can tell me about-" she gestured to my whole body. "This. Plus, we need to set your Panic! At the Disco facts straight."

I nodded my head with a small smile, that seemed fair.

Hope beads my skin like dew on spring grass. I feel it radiating in to soothe my blood. If forms such perfect spheres, each one like a tiny world of its own. I can't know for sure that today will be better than yesterday, or if this is time we win, but I'm optimistic and that's the best I can say.

"The showers upstairs to the right, I'll grab you some of my clothes to wear when you get out."

"That's really not-"

"It's fine." she said loudly. And for the first time I realized why she was doing this. She needed a distraction. The bags underneath her eyes suddenly seemed more prominent, the paleness of her skin seemed Less like porcelain and more sickly. I pressed my lips into a fine line and nodded my head, she needed just as much help as I did. And if this helped her, then I'd keep my mouth shut. She dragged me across the kitchen towards the stairs.

"My name's Bella."

"Calypso." I answered automatically.

She smiled at my response. It didn't look genuine, she looked so...sad.

"That's Unique, I like it. I've met tons of people with the name Bella, my real name's Isabella, actually." she rambled.

I smiled and nodded my head unsure what to say. I followed her up the stairs and she pulled me into a bedroom, looking around the setting was a fairly blank in their boxes in the corner.

"Where do you live?" She asked passively.

"Oh y'know," I replied ungracefully. "Around."

Her comforter was pulled over her bed, even though she hadn't cleaned it. The result was lumps of varying sizes and shapes and the comforter was weighed down by her laptop. A desk sat in one corner, littered with wadded up pieces of paper and pens. A few shelves were pushed against the walls and filled with books. Some books sat on the floor in front of the shelves. A long string of boxes were shoved in a corner.

"Did you just move here?" I asked. She looked over at the boxes I'd noticed. "Not really, we moved here a while ago I just haven't gotten around to unpacking completely yet." she replied with a soft smile.

"That's cool." I said nodding my head "Do you like it here?" I asked.

She frowned is she dug through her closet.

"It's very rainy, it wasn't that way in Arizona when I left." I nodded my head again.

"That makes sense." I've never been to Arizona as far as I know but I had a feeling it the weather was very different from here.

"Have you been there?" She asked, watching me from her peripheral.

I shrugged again. "Maybe." I said simply.

"So where are you from?" she asked as she pulled a t-shirt out of the closet comparing it to my chest to see if it would fit. We were about the same size. "Does it matter?" I replied passively.

Her brown eyes snapped up to mine clearly confused.

"You hide a lot, don't you?"

I almost swallowed my gum, turning to take in the expressionon my new friend's face. Her gaze was steady, eyes wide like an innocent child, I released a short sharp breath. This wasn't even fourth date material and this new girl wanted to play see-through-skin. "How do you mean?"

The girl paused before answering, her tone dropping to a softer octave. "You could just cut it out and let me in you know, let me into that head of yours." This time I took a physical step backward. The girl just watched, eyes still like headlights on full beam, expression serene...

"You freaked out when you rememberd the band name...why is that?

I looked at her for a long, hard moment. Weighing the pros and cons in my head. I had just met this girl, just because we like the same band doesn't mean she wouldn't try to take advantage of my memory loss. I shook my head at that, somehow it seemed unlikely. It would be better for me to explain the situation to someone in case I go missing, or forget something again. I stopped at that. Could I possibly forget something else? Would I continue to lose more of my memories?

"I have some memory problems." I said quickly, making up my mind at that terrifying thought.

"...Do you know how you got like...this?" She said, gesturing to me.

She asked hesitantly clearly worried about the answer. I shook my head and looked around the room a little bit more, tracing my hands against the bedpost. "I woke up in the middle of the forest dressed like this."

I said gesturing down to my torn clothes. "I think something bad might have happened but I don't remember what. I found a van and I know it's mine, I found my drivers license in there. I just don't remember anything. it looks like I've been living out of the van." I said quietly. "I think I might have been homeless before that."

She looked down at her hands again "I'm sorry to hear that but shouldn't you go to the police, or I guess Charlie?" she said with a laugh.

"Charlie?" I asked.

"Yeah my dad, he's the closest thing this town has to a police force."

"You would think the policeman's daughter would know better then to let strangers into her house." I said.

She laughed. "I'm generally a pretty good judge of character and you look like you needed help. Plus, any Panic! At the Disco fan is a friend of mine."

I nodded my head and looked down at my hands.

"Thank you for helping me, Bella."

Her silence was somehow comforting and spoke for itself, it was peaceful in a way where you could feel at home and know that no matter what was happening, she was forever there for you. We both had a silent understanding of each other, almost as if fate had brought us together.

"We could go out to eat?" she said almost hopefully. I looked around for a second "That sounds alright with me, but where to?"

She seem to get excited digging through her clothes for her phone she pulled it out and entered in a passcode, scrolling through it.

"I found this great place a couple days ago. I've had a lot of free time recently." I couldn't help but notice how bitterly she said that. "I've been doing a lot of exploring I could show you around if you want, maybe you'll remember something!"

She looked so hopeful I couldn't bear to shoot her down I had a feeling that my memories wouldn't come back that easily.

"Of course I'll go with you Bella."

"All right!" she said excitedly, first bumping the air. "But first, you're taking a shower and we're getting a shirt on you."

I groaned as she held out a pastel pink shirt, maybe this was a mistake.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The tiny café huddled despondent among the huge trees. Washed out under the overcast sky, it hunched in itself, fighting against the drizzle. Few people rushed by it, outside on the desolate street. The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colourful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten.

I looked around with a smile, my hands stuffed snugly into the pockets of a coat Bella had lent me.

Bella grabbed my arm and pulled me over to an empty table by the door, silently telling me to sit down.

It's early and the machines are yet to warm, so I ponder this chance to rest a moment longer, to drink in the aroma of this place. Bella has tired eyes, yet there is that glimmer, a give away of her good heart. She's one of those surviving sparks, one of the ones who held on to who they really are.

"This place is adorable!" I exclaimed in excitement.

I see her spark glow a little brighter, her face more relaxed, a smidge of joy in her eyes.

"I know, right? I found this place a couple days back. It's a real hole-in-the-wall."

I laugh unexpectedly, and I know that I'm feeling that tiny bit better too, "I'm glad you did," I poked at the lights hanging next to my head. "This place even has fairy lights!"

She shook her head before handing me a menu. "Do you want a burger?" she asked kindly.

I frowned. Something just didn't seem right about that sentenced to me. "I don't eat meat." I said firmly.

She seemed surprised. "You're vegetarian?"

"Yes?" I replied, surprised to find it sounded like a question.

The more I thought about it, the more right it sounded. Yes, I am homeless. And vegetarian. And possible clinically insane. I looked down at my tan hands, wondering what past-me had used them for. Was I a writer? A chef? Perhapse an artist?

"So what exactly happ-" Bella began before being interrupted by a waiter.

"So, what can I get for you ladies?" A teenage boy, a couple years younger then me asked.

The waiter took our order with all the efficiency of a toddler tying their laces with mittens on. He seemed to forget what we had told him before the words had even left our lips, so that we had to repeat everything so many times it was absurd. He had the air of a person in shock, someone who'd brain was lost somewhere else, struggling to deal with some unseen issue. When we asked him to describe a new item on the menu he took on the look of a startled rabbit and then spoke so fast that one word ran into the next. When he finished speaking we were none the wiser but nodded politely and ordered something else. Then looking relieved that the ordeal of taking our order was over the waiter rushed to the kitchen almost tripping over another patron's foot.

I let out a small giggle, surprised when Bella joined in.

"I thought I was the one with memory problems." I said quietly.

Her eyes lit up as she laughed a little harder.

"He looked so scared. I've never seen someone more afraid of two five-foot-four woman before!" she said hurriedly. I snorted in response, but quickly covered it up as the waiter came back with our food.

He ungracefully set two plates on the table, nearly smacking me in the process. The plates made a loud 'clang' as the ceramic material made contact with the wooden table, the waiter muttered an apology before scuttling off.

Me and Bella looked down at the food we'd been given and promptly burst into laughter.

It wasn't at all what we'd ordered.

It was a laughter that I could feel in my lungs, so hard that it took my breath away. The lack of oxygen didn't matter. All the anguish of the past few days melted like snowballs in a microwave. This laughter created a small vacation, a blessed relief from all the distress that shoved its way into my brain. For a single moment, the lack memories was unimportant.

Once out laughed quieted down, I looked Bella in the eyes and knew she felt the same way. The silence was comforting as we looked at each other, understanding shining in our eyes.

"Thank you, Calypso." she said with a tenderness in her voice I couldn't comprehend.

"I just… I really needed this. Thank you."

Her content expression seemed to crumble before my very eyes. Those brown pools of light were covered by the glassiness of forming tears. She looked away from me, as if ashamed of her emotions.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

She looked out the window and began to sniffle, that facade of happiness beginning to waver even further. Soft wisps of that pale honey hair swept past an ear and caressed the skin of her neck, jaw, cheeks and around her rather beautiful, deep eyes. Those cerulean-glass eyes rimmed with thick, long, dark lashes that brushed her cheeks every time she closed her eyes. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; her eyes held all those deep seated emotions and many more.

"Oh honey," I said. Reaching over the table to grasp one of her pale, porcelain hands between my own. She was so cold. "What is it?"

She angrily wiped at her eyes. "Its nothing...its just...My boyfriend...left." she struggled out. Her voice cracking so hard she had to pause for a moment.

"Left?" I asked softly, wanting clarification.

"Yes," she said harshly. "He packed up his things and left." I drew back slightly at her hostility, worried I'd upset her. But she was looking off into the distance and I knew it wasn't me she was spiteful of.

"What's his name?"

"Edward." she said the word like a sigh. As if saying his name was a simple relief from the hell she'd grown to associate with life.

"Tell me the full story." I said, not as a question but a demand.

And she did.

She began talking almost immediately, speaking of a man who'd found her when she had just moved here and made her feel special, then broke her. He told her he didn't love her then left like a leaf in the wind.

Her description was almost too raw to hear, too vulnerable and exposed. She had laid herself utterly bare before my eyes. Continuing to listen felt like peeking in her windows and learning things one should never know unless it is about someone you profoundly love. Yet by doing so so told a tale that couldn't fail to invoke empathy in all but the hardest of hearts. She obviously loved this man, even now.

I wanted to say something multiple times, but realised that she just needed someone to talk to, not someone to respond. So I obediently nodded my head, and made the occasional noise of acknowledgment.

I got the feeling that she wasn't telling me everything, as most of her story didn't add up. Still, I vehemently stated quiet, she needed to get this out if her system.

Her description said nothing about the person she was describing and everything about herself - her paranoias, fears, prejudices. It spoke of her anger and self deprecating tenancies. Every word she said betrayed one more thing about the man, but the crazy thing is hardly a person in a thousand heard it.

"And I haven't seen him since." She finished. Her eyes glassy, as if stuck in a memory of yesterday.

She looked out the window. "Sometimes...I can still hear him."

"I'm sorry." I said, unsure of what to say. A familiar tugging of my heartstrings felt throughout my body. I had a feeling past-me had always been empathetic.

There was another silence, but this wasn't of understanding but...solemness. we had both lost something dear to us, both of us left unsure of what the future foretold of us.

"Do you want to move on?" I asked quietly, needing her to wonder that for herself. For her to ask herself if she was willing to wallow in the past, or attempt to move on.

Her head shot up and she eyed me wearily. Her brown eyes shone brightly, reflecting the warmth of the sun. They were such a unique colour, a mix of light and dark. They looked at my green eyes now, so big and beautiful, so much emotion held inside.

"What do you mean?" she asked, the strength in her voice having returned. A ghost of a smile formed on my lips. "I mean, do you want to get over him?"

She looked out the diner window, looking so sad and alone. Like she'd rather be out there, with him. Which she probably did.

"I'm not sure." she whispered.