She moved her hand on her mouth, trying to suppress a shriek. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt that she couldn't breathe.

What the hell is happening? What truth? Why are they watching me? And what will he do if I find out the truth?

Her body stayed glued on the wall, and she let her head rest on it.

You got this, girl. Just focus on your breathing. Inhale, exhale... That's it.

She rubbed her face and peeked to see if they were gone.

"Are you looking for something?"

Alba closed her eyes and tried to put on a calm face before turning around.

"Everything is alright, Agent O. I was looking for my phone."

"I think it's in your back pocket."

Keep pretending.

"You are right." She put her hand where her phone was, pretending to be surprised, and then she put a big, thankful smile on her face.

He was smiling, but she noticed that the smile never reached his eyes.

"It must be strange for you."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"You have a life out there. You aren't like most of us. And suddenly, you get a message, and everything crumbles down. Your plans, I mean."

"Yes, of course, but I chose this."

He smiled again, the scar on his cheek looking strange.

"I'm sure you have work to do. We are counting on you." He put more emphasis on the last sentence, almost spelling the words.

He walked closer to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and squeezed them.

She smiled back, even if her left arm was protesting in pain. Agent O left in the opposite direction, and Alba continued her original route toward Agent 40-S's room.

Let's hope that he will be in his room. I had a lot of excitement for the entire night.

She hadn't slept for almost a day. The dim light in the corridors hid the time of day, and her body couldn't fall to sleep with the constant lighting. Agent 19 was right. It was difficult for her to adjust, but the adrenalin and the fear that rushed in her veins didn't make it easier.

By the time she knocked on his door, she wasn't sure if she would tell him about everything she had heard. A part of her was whispering that maybe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe they were monitoring every agent that didn't live in the base. The other part was silent and afraid. All she wanted was to leave and breathe fresh air, away from a place full of strangers.

"Hey." His eyes were puffy, and his hair disheveled. He wore grey sweatpants and a matched T-shirt.

She pushed him aside and entered the room. The covers on his bed were messy.

I woke him up. Never mind. I'm sure he's used to not sleeping enough.

"Sorry, but I need your help."

"Did someone-"

"No." She raised her heart and shook her head.

He was looking at her, and he seemed concerned.

Why can't you remember? Everything would be so much easier. Stupid brain!

"I need to rest and have a shower, but I don't know where my room is."

His chest rose in relief. "Come on, I'll show you."

"You don't have to. Just give me the directions."

"I want to. Also, it'll give me a chance to tell you more about this place. Do you know what PROTEA means?"

She shook her head.

"Let's go."

He led her out of the room and closed the door. She was expecting him to lock, but he started walking. When she didn't follow, he turned around.

"Right." He gestured in the air with a fist, a sign of disappointment. "We don't lock here. We don't have valuable things, and no one would try to steal. Even if someone did, they would find him immediately. There are cameras in every common room, except for the private rooms and the corridors that lead to them. So, almost everything is in plain view."

She followed him, this time they were walking side by side. She didn't have to walk faster to reach him.

"So, what does it mean?"

"Each letter represents a word: Protection, Reinforcement, and Organization Team, Enforcement and Alteration."

"Alteration? That doesn't sound nice."

"Sometimes we need to alter things. You know the saying; we bear what they can't."

She raised her right eyebrow, and a funny grimace appeared on her face.

"You don't remember it, but it's somewhere in there." He pointed to her head, and for a second she thought that he could say something more. Instead, he continued walking.

"The name was inspired by the flower, protea, which got its name by the son of Poseidon, Proteus, who had the tendency to change his shape and appearance to avoid detection and to deter people from finding him. Just like Proteus, we can easily infiltrate a place, hide in plain sight, pretend to be someone we are not to complete a mission. Actually-"

She started laughing, not out of joy. It was a peculiar laugh whose sound could be irritating.

"I know the flower. I knew it was something from the past, but I couldn't connect the pictures."

I was passing by the flower shop every morning for a month, but I couldn't connect the flower to this. I have to find the notebook.

"Do you know if I left something here?"

"I don't know. I haven't been many times in your room. You usually came to mine, but we were mostly in the training room or the forest."

It was real. I hugged him once in the forest. I think I needed his hug.

"Bunny, I want you to be careful." He halted in front of a door. "The last time I saw you, you were strange."

"What do you mean?"

"You were mumbling. I couldn't understand it. You were talking about some numbers and lies. I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen. An hour later you left, and I never saw you again. I didn't say this to anyone, but I think that you must remember what you wanted to tell me."

"What if I was talking about something not-related to this place?"

"Oh, bunny, we promised a long time ago that we wouldn't speak about our lives in here."

"How long do I know you?"

His eyes glistened, but it could be her tiredness that made them look that way.

"Enough time for you to know why I am doing this. Enough time to learn what no one in this world knows about me."

They stayed silent for a few seconds as his words were drifting into the air.

"One last question. What happened in Bratislava?"

"It doesn't matter now. It's over." His body tensed, and he looked away as if searching for something.

She reached out her hand and touched his palm. A small scar was on his wrist; It was a burn mark.

What if I'm wrong for not telling him the truth?

She caressed the scar with her thumb, understanding how much she was missing.

I can't let the lost memories define me. I can't wait for them to save me.

"Can I trust you?"

Her question surprised him, and he returned his focus on her face.

She was expecting him to say "of course" or to argue why she wasn't trusting him already, but he opened the door behind him, dragged her inside, and closed the door behind them. He turned on the light, revealing a room identical to his.

"This is your room. This is where I cuddled you at night because you had a nightmare. This is where I put you to sleep when you were exhausted after training. And this is where you took care of me after Bratislava."

She tried to speak, but he put his index on her lips.

"Many things happened one year ago, but it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that you are here, and you must fight. Your brain doesn't know me, but I know many things about you and didn't betray you. Forget about what we were and focus on what is happening now. You need help, and I want to help you. Can you live with that?"

"I can. Can you live with the fact that I might never remember you?"

"It doesn't matter. We'll create new memories, bunny. That's what friends are for. Now, sleep."

He raised his hand but stopped mid-way.

"Good night," she said and closed the door after he left.

I'm sorry, Agent 40-S. I want answers. I can't sleep.

She searched under the duvet, the sheets, in the pillowcase, she even searched the mattress for empty space. She opened the wardrobe and found a few pairs of boots and black clothes. The drawers were empty. The tiny shower had nothing too.

She sat on the chair and put her head between her hands.

It must be here. I wouldn't risk putting it in a common room. Unless I had a great hiding spot.

A scene from a spy movie appeared in front of her eyes.

What if?

She sat on the ground, bent her neck, and looked under the table. She did the same with the bed. She searched every part of the wardrobe, looking for a hidden space like the one in her apartment.

Nothing. Now what?

Alba checked the time on her agent phone: 6 am.

Let's have a shower; I can't sleep now.

She undressed and let the clothes fall in a stack on the chair. The water ran warm, hugging her body, taking away the worries and the dust of the day. She carefully cleaned the skin around her scars, her fingertips brushing on them.

She dropped her head back, her eyes closed, the water falling on her face like a wild rain.

She reached her hand to the handle to turn off the water and opened her eyes.

You got to be kidding me!

A hysterical laugh filled the room, and her hand went instinctively to the scar on her abdomen.

You are so crazy!

She managed to resist her urge, stopped laughing, and walked out of the shower. Naked, with the water dripping from her body, she took the chair and struggling, managed to fit it in the bathroom, next to the washbasin. She climbed on the chair and extended her arm as much as she could. What seemed to be a fixed crack on the wall was a small hidden covered space.

She stood on the tip of her toes, stretched her body as much as she could, and reached the opening. The light painting and everything she had used to cover it, dissolved with her touch.

You are fucking smart, Agent 23.

The red notebook was in her hands. She had found it. Still on the chair, she opened it and read the first sentence: "Who killed my parents?"