And just like that, I was reborn back into the 1900s. With a dramatic welcome in the form of a gunshot flying over my head.

If the ridiculously large gown I was wearing wasn't any indication, then the dilapidated carriage on the other side of the stone road and the ridiculously tall top hat on the head of the man beside me convinced me.

"Do you perhaps fancy a bullet in your pretty skull, Miss Danbury?" the man said sarcastically, his eyes fixed on the carnage going on in front of us.

Miss Danbury? Who was that supposed to be? Did I not come back as myself to the past?

I ducked behind the small stone wall the man was hiding behind, trying to access the situation. There were two possibilities: I was kidnapped or I was...no, that didn't make sense.

Why would I be centuries in the past for no good reason?

I glanced at the man beside me. He looked like the setting was perfectly normal. There was curiosity and a little excitement in his eyes as he stared, stopping to scribble on his paper every few minutes. I drew in a breath before turning to him to ask where I was.

Before I could say anything, he held up a palm to stop me.

"Now is not the time to express your affections, Miss Danbury," he said. "If you had not stalked me here, I wouldn't have to be charged to feel responsible for you."

"Who do you think you are, speaking to me like I'm an insolent child?" I spat, unable to control myself.

He just reminded me of many men in my life who thought they were 'more' in every aspect, just because they were born male. There were my father, brothers, and male classmates in college. No one had expected me to become one of the youngest officers to ever work full-time in NASA headquarters right after two years in the military.

Jokes on them.

The man's eyebrows flew up. I gazed into his blue eyes in defiance.

"Miss Danbury, might I remind you that you followed me here."

I gave him a mocking smile. "I can't walk where I wish, huh?"

"Walk where you wish? Miss Danbury, we are in the middle of a crossfire between organized crime syndicates," the man said exasperatedly, his voice lowering a tad.

I instinctively ducked lower, not wanting a bullet to accidentally hit me before I knew where I was. "And what are you doing here?" I whispered in challenge.

"I am a writer, remember?"

Only then did I notice the bottle of ink spilling on the floor beside his parchment paper with writings on it.

"Well, Sir Writer, your ink is spilling on your paper," I said and turned away to try and look around the stone wall, checking if anyone had noticed our presence.

A plethora of expletives flew out of his mouth as he turned around only to see that his paper was dry. He turned to me with a murderous glare. "You insufferable little-"

My eyes snapped to him. "Finish that statement and the next bullet either of us sees will be in you."

He reeled back. "How dare you speak in such a manner as a young lady?"

"Bite me."

How could I have made an enemy in less than five minutes of being here?

It was as if the universe stayed silent for the first time to let me muse on my murderous thoughts.

Wait. Why was it silent?

I peeked around the wall again. It was empty. The only evidence of the carnage that had occurred was the bullet holes in everything within shooting range and some drops of blood on the floor.

"I knew you were reckless, Miss Danbury, but not to this extent. Also, what does 'bite me' mean? Do I look like an animal to you?"

I stood up and turned around and came face to face with a lean chest, covered with dust and bits of feather. I stumbled backward and hit a slab of stone that just happened to be lying in the middle of the road.

Since the universe seemed to be against me recently, I wasn't surprised when I tripped and began to fall backward. However, the grumpy man catching me by my waist just made it seem like my life was a joke.

Our faces were within inches of each other. Any little movement would our lips meet. I was not open to such an act.

"Could you let go of me, Mr..." I trailed off, realizing that I didn't even know his name.

"You don't remember my name, Miss Danbury?"

I pursed my lips, trying to think of a polite way to answer him without giving off the impression that I was not the Miss Danbury they knew.

"If I say that I've had memory loss, would you believe me?"

"You certainly had your memories half an hour ago when you clung to my tailcoat, insisting on following me for my research."

Whoever this 'Miss Danbury' was was starting to seem like an idiot more than anything else. How could anyone in their right mind like someone like this?

No, Andrea. Be nice. He's your ticket out of this madness.

"Can you just tell me your name before you continue being a bother?" I asked with the sweetest smile I could muster.

I guess it looked like I was constipated instead because his frown deepened.

"It's Mr. Castilla. Lincoln Castilla."

I blinked rapidly in a bid to assuage his temper, trying very hard to ignore the fact that his hand was still on my waist. "And what year is it?"

"1807. Are you sure you don't need to go to a doctor?"

I was wrong. I'm in the 1800s. How did I even get here?

I looked around. There was no single thing in sight that I could use to dispute the stranger's claims. Even a movie site couldn't get this many details right. Had I become a victim of transmigration like those characters in the fantasy webcomics, the ones that die and...

Wait. I remember. I died. A robber shot me.

I groaned internally.

I knew I shouldn't have borrowed Tamil my car. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have walked home and met that runaway fugitive on the way. I grit my teeth.

I hope he has a nice life wherever he is.

Did everyone who died get a second chance?

My mind was running a mile a minute, calculating all possible ways I could get home. I came up short. No handbook in the world told you what to do when you got stuck more than 200 years in the past.

"How do you know I'm not pretending?" I asked, tapping my head to fight my excessive thoughts.

He moved closer to me with narrowed eyes as if trying to observe me closer. I unconsciously glanced at the distance between our lips. His eyes caught the action and his cheeks tinted red immediately. He hurriedly pulled me upright and coincidentally, our lips touched for a split second.

Was it possible to feel universes colliding and stars forming black holes draining all emotions, thought, and reason for just a second? Was it possible to feel yourself sinking while remaining upright on your feet? Should a kiss, no matter how brief, cause so much revulsion that you begin to feel discomfort in your own skin?

I didn't know it was possible but that was exactly what happened in the time before Lincoln and I flew apart. I tripped on the same pavement and fell. Lincoln couldn't help if he wanted to; his back was facing me.

And the worst part: if anything could confirm this was not a dream, that kiss was it. It felt too real.

"I don't think you're pretending," Lincoln said, trying to seamlessly continue the conversation. "You're much too consumed by thoughts of romance and fairytales to think up this scheme. You don't stand to gain the company of a future Lord."

I could hear the quivering of his voice. He sounded too embarrassed.

Had he never kissed a woman before?

At the thought, a musing smile grew on my face. I didn't know anything about this place and there was an information bank before me.

Who was to say that I couldn't have fun with my situation?

I walked slowly to Lincoln and poked his shoulder. He flew two feet in the air before turning around and arranging his facial features to look condescending.

"Glad we're on the same page. I need your help...navigating this place without committing social blunders like not remembering the names of old friends or saying the wrong thing at a party."

"You seem like a completely different person, Miss Danbury."

I smiled genuinely. "Why, thank you."

"I didn't mean that as a compliment. I don't quite enjoy your new personality either."

My smile dropped faster than ceramic plates used to from my little sister's hands when we were kids.

My sister. How had I forgotten about one of the reasons I carried on back in my past life?

I nearly keeled over at the thought of her being left in that patriarchal home alone. How would she survive?

Something began crawling up my throat. I could feel my hands shaking but I couldn't see them clearly because of my hazy vision. My knees buckled as if the weight of all the years of my family's emotional abuse and neglect pressed down on me at once. I had been a buffer for Fiona all these years, even letting her move in with me as soon as she graduated high school. Now, she was all alone with a father who measured a female's worth with the financial status of her husband and a mother who encouraged total submissive behavior and always drilled into her female children that the proper way to survive was to obey even at the cost of your dignity.

Why did I even come here in the first place? Why did it have to be me stuck more than 100 years in the past with my life at the disposal of an ill-tempered writer who had no qualms cursing like a sailor in the presence of a 'young lady'?

I blinked the tears rapidly from my eyes. If there was anything I learned in the military, it was that tears never solved the problem; they only gave you anxiety and headaches. I had to find a way to get home. I could cry afterwards.

As the fog in my head dissipated, I began to hear Lincoln's panicked voice.

"Miss Danbury! Miss Danbury! Imelda! Do you need a doctor? If this is a game, I would ensure that there would be dire consequences after it. Imelda, answer me."

"So that's my name, huh? How old am I?" I said, trying to joke. I could still feel my lips quivering.

Lincoln noticed and took my face in his hands. "Imelda, do you need to see a doctor?"

I grasped his cold, rough palms from my face and removed them. "A doctor can't do much for me, Lincoln."

His concern lasted two seconds before his eyes steeled again and he stepped back. "Well, Miss Danbury, you should be ashamed of yourself, for allowing a man to touch you in public."

I blinked through my tears with a smile, happy to reestablish our bickering, something that would distract me from the doom my sister and I would face as we were centuries apart. "Why? Does it bother you?"

He flushed. "Of course not. I am not responsible for you after all."

"Aww, come on. You can't even help a poor lady who has lost her memories."

Lincoln raised a neat eyebrow that seemed out of place with his more manlier facial features. "Lord Danbury is behind you."

"Who?" I asked, turning around to look. There was no one behind me. I looked at Lincoln in suspicion. "There's no one there. Are you seeing things?"

"You really don't remember anything," Lincoln said mostly to himself.

Like I hadn't been saying that for the past five minutes.

"What made you believe me, oh wise one?"

"Your family hates the noble Danburys and your speech pattern is far too advanced for the Imelda I'm used to."

"Just how stupid am I supposed to be?" I asked.

"There...you don't sound like someone who's lost their memories. You sound like a completely different person."

I nodded, impressed. Perhaps I could trust him. Beneath all that sarcasm and stone face, he seemed to be a decent person. "You were able to catch that."

"You're a different person?"

"Andrea Taylor. Nice to meet you."

Lincoln glared at my outstretched arm, shook his head, and started to walk away, muttering to himself.

"Hey, wait up. I really don't know how to get home. Do I have a family?"

Lincoln replied without turning around. "Yes, a mother and four brothers, one of whom is a priest who would exorcise whatever demon is bothering you."

"I don't even know what my family looks like. Please, you have to help me."

I grabbed his hand and stood in front of him with a pleading expression. "Please, for now. I promise not to bother you once I get a hang of this place. I don't want people to think I have a few screws loose."

"Screws loose?"

I completely forgot about the language difference. "Mad. I don't want people to think I'm mad."

"I think you're mad."

I sighed. "You don't count. You hate me already."

He paused, thinking over what I said. I leaned closer to him, anticipating his answer.

"Okay. I will help you only if you promise not to-"

A boisterous loud voice interrupted Lincoln. "What do you think you're doing with my betrothed, you scoundrel?"