I braced myself for what I was about to see today. My fingers were tightly wrapped around the sink and my eyes were shut firmly. I always hated the first look.

As my eyes slowly peered open, I took in who I was today: a red head. I'm rarely ever that. I had dark brown eyes and dark freckles splattered across my nose. I was about five foot seven, almost two inches taller than yesterday. There was a gap in between my two front teeth.

I headed out of the bathroom into my bedroom. It was a mess. Clothes covered the floor, the dressers were cluttered with junk, and the closet was spewing out even more clothes. Today, I wasn't a clean person.

I got onto my hands and knees and searched through all the items on the floor. I threw clothes over my head. I needed some kind of identification and I usually can always find it in the purse. I just couldn't find one right now.

I shoved my hand under the bed and my fingers wrapped around a leathery object. When I pulled it out I saw it was my purse. I threw it up onto the bed and I sat down next to it.

I flipped the purse over and dumped all the contents on the bed. This place was already a pigsty, so what's a little more mess for one day?

Pushing aside the loose change and make-up, I found my wallet. I pulled out the drivers licence and discovered that I am Cassandra Lowe. I also found out that I am twenty-three, take the bus, have quite a few gift cards to clothing stores, go to yoga classes and have two men's phone numbers. The last thing I discovered was that I'm an organ donor.

My heart pounded in my chest when I heard a knock on the door. I didn't know anyone in my life. So how am I supposed to recognize who's at the door? Anyways, it's nine a.m. who would come this early in the morning?

I got up and made my way across the tiny apartment. A couple more loud knocks came at the door. The person is probably trying to wake me up in case I was asleep.

As soon as I opened the door a man wrapped his arms around my waist. He pressed his lips hard against mine. He must be my boyfriend; it's the only logical solution. Now what's his name? I tried to think back to the names on those napkins. He was either Charles or Stuart.

When the man backed away from me he had a smile on his face. I let a smile grow across mine. He ran his hand through his dark short-cropped hair.

"You're not ready yet, Cass?" he asked letting his eyes set onto my body. I looked down at myself. I had on a pair of blue flannel pyjama bottoms and a grey tank top.

"Sorry, I'll get changed...um where are we going again?" I asked, trying not to sound like I didn't have a clue about anything in my life.

The man still scrunched his eyebrows at me.

"We were going to go have breakfast before I had to go to work," he said. "Remember?"

I just nodded my head and let another big smile grow across my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll get ready right now," I said.

I kissed him quickly and then turned on my heels. This is his last day with Cassandra, so it might as well be a good one.

He sat down on the couch as I went into my room. I quickly put on a pair of jeans, a white shirt and a black vest. I found a brush among the mess on the dresser. I began running it through my hair. I was trying to find out this man's name. I dropped the brush back down on the dresser and saw my phone lying there.

I opened my bedroom door and poked my head out of the doorframe. I flashed another smile at him.

"I lost my phone. Can you call it, honey?" I asked him sweetly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Sure. But if you cleaned up like I suggest you wouldn't have this problem," he said.

He dialled my number and I heard my phone ring. I ran into my room and looked at my phone. Thank God for caller I.D. The name Jackson flashed across the screen.

Jackson? That wasn't one of the names on the napkins. I must be a two-timer.

I put my contents back into my purse quickly and shoved my phone into my pocket. I went back out into the living room. Jackson was still sitting on the couch. When he saw me he got up.

"Thank you, Jackson," I said.

I gave him a quick kiss and took his hand in mine. We walked down the hallway of my building. Before we left I took a quick look at my door. I live in 412. I'll need to remember that if I want a place to stay today. I've made that mistake a few times before.

As we walked down the stairs Jackson continued to talk.

"So how does Devin feel about you moving?" he asked me.

Shit a question. I hate questions; they're almost impossible to answer. If he was just telling me a story all I would need to do is nod my head.

"He's not that supportive of it," I said, throwing out a wild guess.

"Really? I thought he would have loved the idea," he told me.

"Well, yeah," I said. I needed to think quickly. "He's just worried about me, you know?"

"I understand. I get very protective over my little brother."

Little brother? Devin must be my older brother, and I'm moving. To where and why I don't know yet.

When Jackson opened the building door, I waited for him. I change cities at least once a week. I never knew the layout of the city that well before I woke up in a new one. Jackson would have to take the lead to show me where we were going to eat.

"How do you feel about me moving?" I asked him.

Jackson looked surprised by my question. It must be something we have discussed for a while now. I felt stupid for asking.

"I think it's wonderful you want to live with me," he said. "You already know I love you."

I pressed my lips into a smile. More information for me to store in my brain. Now hopefully I don't forget it or confuse it with other girls' information.

"You seriously think you can deal with my mess?" I asked him jokingly.

He laughed and shook his head.

"Probably not," he murmured.

We ended up at a coffee shop. It was full of people and we squeezed between the crowd and into the line. A man in a green apron and long hair was taking everyone's orders quickly. This caused a pile up on all the workers actually making the coffee, this led to the workers arguing with each other. I found this comical and started to chuckle under my breath.

Jackson stared down at me giving me another one of his quizzical looks.

"This always pisses you off and gets you angry," he said.

I shrugged my shoulders. I need another excuse.

"It's just so stupid that it's funny," I explained to him.

"Are you alright? You're acting a little strange today," he asked me.

"I just haven't had my coffee yet."

"You don't drink coffee."

"That's what you think."

I ended that last one with a wink. Luckily, we were up next to order. Jackson took over and ordered for me. Apparently, I don't actually drink coffee because he ordered me a hot chocolate. I was relieved as we didn't try to talk while we waited for our drinks. The workers were yelling at each other too loud.

When we finally did get our order we scanned the café for a place to sit. It was full, so we ventured outside. All of those little tables under the dark green umbrellas were full too. Jackson told me we should just go for a walk through the town.

I tried hard not to let my eyes scan over everything in the town. I've never been here before and I didn't want to look like a tourist. By the license plates on the cars I could tell we were in Ontario, Canada.

The street was full of old little brick buildings that were used for stores and restaurants. Cars lined the street and couples of elderly people sat on the benches looking at people walking by.

Jackson started to talk about his life at school. What I've taken from what he's told me is that he's in university for engineering and he's freaked out about exams this term. He also started to talk about his grandmother. She's in the hospital with cancer. He says that when she dies he's going to be torn apart. I hope he can get over me easily when I die.

As we went down the street, I stopped at an electronics store. It had a display of televisions in the window. Every screen was on the news channel. A woman with short black hair and an ill-fitting suit was standing there with a microphone in her hand. "Another victim in the Reaper Syndrome case" flashed along the bottom of the screen.

Next thing to appear on the screen was a picture of a woman in her twenties. She had long black hair and a large smile plastered across her face. There was also a crystal stud in her nose.

"Why are you watching this?" Jackson asked me.

I realized my face must have been looking at the screen pretty intensely. I couldn't help myself. I haven't watched the news yet today.

"Curious," I told him.

"Angelica Greene was the thirty-fifth consecutive victim in this bizarre case" was the next thing to pop up along the bottom of the screen.

Angelica Greene; I was her yesterday. I was also the thirty-four girls before her and Cassandra Lowe was about to become number thirty-six.