When Friday arrives, I actually look forward to the weekend. It's the time where I can finally take a break from all the hustle and bustle that is tiring me out.

When the bell rings for the last class, everyone packs their bags and scatters out of the place quickly. I head to my locker and punch the numbers in to unlock it. When the metal door swings open, something small and pink flutters out of the locker.

I shove my books in before bending over to pick up the note and flipping over to look at its content. My eyes scan the words quickly before they widen in surprise.

Kyle,

Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?

Or we can just head to my room and go straight to dessert.

I almost gag.

They wrote the words perfectly carefully across a pink floral card. I flip it again, realizing that there isn't a name on it except a number.

Clearly, somebody has dropped this off at the wrong locker.

Whoever this secret admirer is, her guts are admirable, despite how bold she is with her words and is a little clumsy to have made this sort of mistake.

But I understand her infatuation with Kyle. He is understandably popular. He's tall, handsome, cool and—from my days of unintentionally catching onto gossip and observation — he's on the school's track & field star team. Apart from his nasty temper, he's the ideal guy that all girls will compete with and vie for his attention.

When nobody's watching, I hurriedly slip the note into his locker. If anybody catches me doing this and mistaken me for writing such dirty things to Kyle, I'm most definitely going to die of embarrassment.

I'm about to leave when a brusque voice from behind startles me, one that I recognize immediately.

"What are you doing, Riley?"

Speak of the devil. "Nothing," I answered and shut my locker. When I turn around, he's closer to me than I thought. I stumble backwards and hit the lockers behind me.

"S-sorry," I say awkwardly.

This is the first time we are exchanging words. Ever since Kyle has dropped the bombshell on me about our past, he has been avoiding me as much as he can, as if I'm a parasite that he needs to stay away from.

When I attempt to sidestep him, he takes a step in the same direction. His broad build blocks my path and I reel back to avoid smacking my face into his chest. When I turn to the other side to make my escape, he places his right palm on the locker just inches away from my face, enclosing me in this tight space and making it difficult for me to breathe.

Finding myself wedged between his body and the wall of lockers, I'm forced to look up to meet his cool, inscrutable gaze.

"C-can I help you with something?" I stutter out.

But Kyle studies me closely, his dark eyes running over my face with a curious, searching glance. Without uttering a word, his left hand reaches out to the padlock, and he opens his own locker. All the while, his eyes are still on me as he pulls out the same note that I have just slipped in earlier.

Oh, god.

If only the floor can swallow me up whole now.

Without moving away from me, he reads the words written on the small pink paper and his face slowly creases into a frown. He takes a glance at me again, his attention flitting back and forth between me and the note.

"Really?" He tilts his head at me with an eyebrow arch in ludicrous. "You really think we can be together again?"

"Wait!" I try to explain myself. Just like how I fear, he's obviously mistaken about me for writing him a love note. "That's not from me–"

He cuts me off by leaning forward slowly, lowering his head until our noses are touching. His hand reaches up slowly, allowing his fingertips to graze my cheeks before he cups my neck. Almost instantly, I feel goosebumps erupting across my skin. I swallow nervously and squirm under his intense scrutiny.

Whatever he's doing to me, my heart is racing madly, like I'm on a roller coaster ride. My hand itches to touch him, but I resist my temptation.

What's going on with me?

A smirk tugs the corner of Kyle's lips when he notices how flustered I am. How I'm hugging my bag to my chest tightly and pressing my back against the lockers to put as much distance as I can between us.

Moving his lips to my left ear, he whispers slyly. "If you really want to get laid that badly, let's do it."

My head snaps to him in disbelief and confusion. I push against him, but he refuses to budge, his gaze looking every bit like a predator.

"I didn't write that," I insist. "Believe it or not, someone dropped it off at the wrong locker and I was trying to return it to you."

Kyle straightens slowly and allows his hand to drop to his side. "I know," he smiles coldly. "Why are you so easily fooled, Riley? I was just messing around with you. Of course I know you didn't write it, especially when I know what your handwriting looks like. Besides, this isn't the first time I've found such things in my locker."

He crushes the note in his hand before tossing it aside. When he tries to take a step towards me again, I duck and scurry away without so much as a glance back. Gripping tightly onto the strap of my tote bag, I weave through the crowd in the hallway and head towards the exit, but somebody else grabs my arm and stops me midway.

"Riley?" Taylor takes in my frantic expression. "Are you alright?"

Behind him, Kyle appears like a grim reaper. With every step he takes, his tall form looms closer to where we're standing.

I pin my eyes on him instead of the guy standing before me. "I'm great, Taylor, thanks for asking."

Taylor smiles at me, his hand moving up my arm slowly. "Listen," he says, "do you want to grab lunch with me?"

I blurt out without thinking. I just want the conversation to end.

"When?"

He takes my question as me being interested and his smile widens, but I focus all my attention on Kyle walking towards us. When he sees Taylor's hand on me, he stops in his tracks. A shadow flickers in his eyes when he sees his friend take another step closer to me.

I hear Taylor suggest, "how about now?"

I can't concentrate because all I'm thinking about is how murderous Kyle looks. After a couple of seconds, I force my mind to work up an excuse quickly. "Oh no, I can't. I'm running late to pick up my cousin. Let's have lunch together next time?"

Before he can answer, I turn and flee from both boys.

***

For the first time, I'm all alone in the house.

Since it's a Saturday, Aunt Abbie has left with Judy to visit Uncle Dave's parents in the next town. I was supposed to go with them, but in the end, I stayed behind, giving a lame excuse about needing to finish up my homework. If I had gone with them, I knew I would only intrude on their family time. With or without my amnesia, Uncle Dave's side of the family are people whom I'm never close with.

Initially, Aunt Abbie was worried about leaving me behind, but after reassuring her countless times that I've my phone and money with me, she eventually relented and left.

At around ten, a call comes. Since it's too late to drive and Uncle Dave is tired, she tells me they are staying overnight at her in-laws' house. After making me promise to keep all the doors in the house locked at all times, our conversation ends there.

I wander about in the quiet house. Maybe it's because I've always felt alone, because the silence doesn't scare me too much. I should find the darkness lurking in the hallway creepy, but I don't. Maybe I've lived far too long inside it when I was asleep for a year. Now, I am afraid of other things instead, things like remembering what kind of person I used to be.

I don't want to be the ruthless person who Kyle believes me to be.

Despite my fear, having thoughts about who I used to be drives up my curiosity. I vaguely recall Aunt Abbie mentioning that she has placed a box of my old belongings underneath my bed. I head back to my room and locate it quickly. Sure enough, I find a bunch of old items like discs, shoes, clothes and pictures.

I pick up a photograph and see myself smiling and posing right next to an unfamiliar woman at a themed park. I bear a slight resemblance to her; blue eyes, sharp nose and soft features. The only difference between us is the colors of our hair. Mine is an auburn brown color whereas hers is blond, just like Aunt Abbie's.

I can only assume that she's my mother.

But even after staring at her face for several minutes, I feel nothing.

Since the picture doesn't trigger any of my memories to surface, I place it aside and reach inside the box again. This time, I pull out a transparent bag that contains what is possibly a broken phone with a smashed screen. When I try to turn on the power button; it doesn't respond.

The only reason I can think of behind this device's devastating state is that it could have been with me during the time of the accident. But even if it didn't survive from the car crash, maybe the cellphone card did.

I flip the phone and remove the back casing. And it soon turns out that I'm right, the cellphone card remains unharmed.

I immediately grab my new phone that Aunt Abbie bought for me a few weeks ago and replace the tiny chip. Once I turn it on, I dig for my old contacts and scroll through the list, only to find several names that I'm not familiar with. To my disappointment, I find no messages since they are most probably stored in my old phone that's now destroyed. Even if there are any unheard voicemails, they would be expired by now.

After my brief investigation, I'm back to square one.

Maybe I will be much better off not knowing anything.

I'm about to clean up the mess and set my phone on the dresser when out of the blue, a buzzing noise from my hands startles me. I glance down and the name that shows up on the bright screen causes me to stop breathing.

Kyle.