I slowly open my eyes, blinking several times before finally surveying my surroundings. I'm on a bed in an all white room, that would resemble that of a hospital if not for the carpet. There are no pictures or posters on the wall, the floor has boring white carpet, and the furnishings are sparce. All that is actually in the room is the bed I'm laying on and a small dresser in the corner. I don't even see a light, although by how bright the room is I'm assuming there is a window behind me. 

             I start to turn to look out the window. How am I not dead? We were going 200 miles per hour and crashed into the red car. I should be bruised or- "Ugh," I groan, as sharp pains shoot through my abdomen, effectively cutting off my train of thought. I guess that explains it. I lift my shirt to notice a gauze bandage, so expertly done I wouldn't have even known it was there.

          While I'm looking at my, a door I didn't even notice opens, and Damien steps into the room. I hurriedly pull my shirt back down. "Kyla! You have finally woken up!" he exclaims, the relief evident in his voice. Studying his face, I see dark circles that ween't there when I last saw him.

          "How long have I been asleep to get such a warm welcome from you?" I joke, attempting to hide my worry at the answer. The longer I've been asleep, the more time the T.A.K. Squad has to find us. Besides, he said finally. The word itself implies it has been a long time.

           He winces, like he would rather not have answered that question. "It has only been a week," he says obviously trying to appear nonchalant. As if that would make the freak out he is about to receive any smaller.

         "Are you kidding me!" I shrieked, the high noise causing Damien to wince again in pain. "We have been sitting ducks for seven days! And you didn't think it was a good idea for us to just move anyway! For all we know the T.A.K. Squad is on our doorstep right now! And where would that leave us?" Damien started to answer but I cut him off, still not done with my rant. "I'll tell you where that would leave us. Dead! And do you want to die? Because I don't know about you, but I don't think I have lived out my full potential yet. And do you want to be responsible for for me not reaching my full potential?" Again Damien tried to answer. You think he would have learned his lesson the first time. "No! You don't! So if you do something stupid again like get in a high speed car chase-" He started to interject, but I stopped him with a raised finger. "If you do something stupid like get in a car chase and cause me to pass out again, it would behoove you to get over whatever chivalrous act you think you are doing me by not moving me, and drag my unconscious butt into some vehicle. Then, you drive. I am not  going to be the reason that we get killed, and you will not help me be that reason. Do you understand me?" I glared at him, daring him to argue with me.

         Damien looked like he was measuring his chances, his face showing that his mind was in obvious turmoil. He looked at my face then made his decision. He slowly nodded, a resigned look on his handsome face. Wait, what? Did I seriously just think that. I inwardly shook my head to get rid of the weird feeling. Nah. I couldn't have. It was just my imagination.

          "Good," I smiled at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "So when do we leave?" I raised one eyebrow at him as I asked, wondering if he would actually give me a straight answer.

           "Soon," he said cryptically. I shook my head. I knew it. He's never going to give me a straight answer. It would be too much for the image he's trying to portray. "Right after breakfast."

○○○○○

            I'm entirely skeptical as we step into the small cafe, only a block from the "safe house" as Damien calls it. The red and white checkered floor matches the trim on the walls, and the tables and chairs are battered as if they had been here for years. Looking at the peeling paint on the walls and the water stains on the ceiling, I bet they have been.

          There is no one here, so we have our pick of seats. Taking a small booth in the center of the cafe, we sit down, avoiding the ripped patches on the red cushions. I lift the menu to try and decide what I want to order. The waffles immediately catch my eye, a comfort food for me ever since I was little, when my mom used to make them on Sunday mornings. 

          I look up at my mom and dad, my little hands reaching for the plate of waffles my mom is holding. "Calm down, Ky," she laughs, the bright sound filling the kitchen with its music. "The waffles won't disappear if you don't eat them right away." 

         "And besides," my dad says, "Don't you want some of the whipped cream I made?" He opens the fridge and takes out a large bowl." My eyes widen at the sight. 

         "Yes, yes!" I jump up and down. We all start to laugh and then eat our waffles.

          The flashback ends, and I see Damien looking at me strangely. I shake my head at him then return to looking at the menu. The door to the cafe rings as it opens, and when I see who it is I almost feel like I am still in the flashback. My face must have changed, because Damien's whole demeanor changes.

           "What is it Kyla?" He whispers over his menu. "Is something wrong?"

            I nod, unable to speak. The person who just walked into the cafe...is my father.

Hey guys! Sorry to leave you off on a cliff hanger. I normally would add another chapter, but because it is a double update Friday, you guys will have to live with it. Besides my editor/close friend SpookyRowena decided for you guys, so don't blame me, blame her. Because of her input, this chapter is dedicated to her.

Was the length of this chapter better? 1,075 words without the A/N is a pretty long chapter this far, but I expect to increase my chapter length to about 1,500 to 2,000 per chapter. This originally was a longer double update Friday, but my drafts disappeared, so I had to rewrite everything from scratch. I'll make it up next week I promise.