The door closed behind me with a thud; it was the sound of my friendship with Emma as it crumbled to a dust. Would she have acted differently had I shown her the map that Abba had made, the wound in my side, a video – if I had one – of Abba's constant lunatic expressions?

I had barely reached the staircase before I dropped to my knees and cried harder. My chest was clenched tighter than my fists. I felt radioactive, hotter than an engine. Emma was the only person in the world who liked me for who I was, even as a bratty kid with mutinous makeshift highlights in her hair. Had I truly lost her? Was it 'selfish' for me to want to stay as far away from Abba as possible? Anyway, it didn't matter; I knew I'd have to join her sooner or later – for America's sake, sooner.

Stefan called me from the bottom of the stairs. I had somehow managed to crawl my way to the top step, where I was sitting. He trotted upstairs hurriedly, as though his cast was only a prop. He sat next to me and stroked my upper back with his warm right hand.

"I heard you and Emma..."

"I'm okay," I said, a common lie, and I wasn't very convincing with my puffy red eyes.

It didn't take Stefan long to realise how much I needed a hug; his arms strapped around mine like a fitted coat. In his embrace, my tears ceased.

"Let's leave," I sniffled quietly. "Emma wants us... wants me to leave."

Stefan nodded. He didn't ask questions, and I was grateful for that. He stood me up slowly and we descended the stairs, and then informed Uncle Jake of our departure.

"So soon, are you sure?" he turned off the TV.

"Emma's really tired so..."

"And look at you, you're exhausted!"

He came up to me, but I couldn't look him in the eyes. The last thing that I wanted was for him to see me like that.

"Yeah, I am. So, I'm gonna go," I swiftly turned around and Stefan and I made our way to the door, but I stopped when my guilty conscience reminded me of my manners. "Have a good afternoon, Uncle Jake."

"You, too, Aimee," he was still pondering my abrupt behaviour.

Stefan gave him a parting smile and we were on our way. It was still light outside, but it could only have been three o' clock at the latest. The sun glared above the house. I took my phone out of my pocket and had to shield it from the sunlight as I unlocked the screen. No messages.

Stefan came up behind me and swiped my phone from my hands, "Hey, I thought you weren't gonna worry."

"I'm not... I won't, I just..." I wondered then if any of my sentences would reach a period.

Stefan watched me as we stood, almost as though he was analysing me. Finally, he whispered, "You really should get some rest. I'll drive you home."

He was right; I wanted to train, but I was too tired to even argue with him. I hadn't had much sleep the previous night. I convinced myself that sleep was all I needed, but my chest still felt constricted. I took Stefan's hand as we walked to his car. I didn't ask him to return my phone; no one was gonna call, but he gave it to me anyway. Then, he dug his car keys out of his pocket and opened my door. I got in, and he swung it closed behind me before climbing in on the other side. And so he drove me home.

Emma doesn't live very far from us. My house soon grew on the roadside until we pulled onto the driveway. When without warning, our muscles tensed and our eyes widened in unison. There was a car in the driveway, one that neither of us recognised.

"Stefan," I said in panic.

"Don't suppose your folks got a new car?"

I shook my head, "But they might be in the house, I– will you come in with me?" I would have gone in alone if I had to.

"Of course," he replied, swiftly unlocking our doors.

We stepped out of the Beetle and stalked up to the house.

I halted afore the porch step, "The door's open."

His response was to hold my hand tightly; reducing my certainty that something bad was impending. We entered. The house had felt of warmth and haven the previous night, but that was gone, replaced with thick eeriness.

I was regretting wearing those ankle boots; they met the floor like tap-dancing shoes. I had to take them off. Stefan's hand stayed with mine, aiding my balance as I pulled my boots from my feet with my free hand. I set them beside the doorframe and Stefan and I crept further into my home. We motioned past the stairs, focused. I felt like a secret agent, which would be cool under different circumstances, but the feeling was discomforting.

The kitchen was entered through an archway instead of a door, so it was easy to tell if someone was in there. We headed into the TV room; our blue couches and guest bathroom weren't hiding anything. Another passage led to the study, in which nothing was extraordinary. It had green wallpaper and dark wooden floors, an easel, a treadmill, a bookshelf, a computer at its desk, and a sleeping bag, but no people. The only places that Stefan and I hadn't checked were the rooms upstairs. We were turning back towards the staircase, when we heard the front door slam shut. We dropped our silent act and dashed to the door. I reached it first, so I jumped into my shoes and swung that door open.

She was sauntering away. I didn't think before tackling her to the ground and we tumbled on the dewy grass. I pinned her down at her arms and sat on her belly, Stefan yelling my name from the door. I couldn't tear my eyes away from hers.

Celeste.

She was trapped under me, but she did not fight to free herself. She was petrified, even though she knew that I wouldn't hurt her. Maybe it was how I stared at her like I had no control over it, which I didn't, but only because she had clipped her bangs and ponytail to about the same length as mine. I jerked off of her like she was a corpse.

"Who are you?!" I questioned, freaked.

I knew it was Celeste, she looked like Celeste, but at the same time, she looked like me!

"Did Abba take away your memory?" she asked, emotionlessly, getting up to wipe the dirt off her threads.

"Your hair..."

"You don't like it?" she queried. "I've been looking for you."

"Why?" posed Stefan, dropping off the porch.

My eyes watched his leg cast, and gradually made their way up his body and to his face. Celeste glimpsed at him for a second, and then back at me.

"He looks good, I'm glad he's healing."

"Inside," he commanded, glancing around to make sure no one had seen our tussle and closing the door behind us.

Then, I heard a thud. In an instant, Stefan drove his forearm into the crevice of Celeste's neck, pinning her to the staircase wall.

She coughed a chuckle my way, "Really? Ack."

I called Stefan's name once, but he only pushed his arm against her with greater force, and she winced from the pain.

"Stefan, stop!"

"Look, I told them not to hurt you; it's not my fault you were beaten up," she uttered as lacklustre as she could.

"Stefan, let her go!" For some reason, this time he listened.

His elbow rested at his side again as he gradually backed away from Celeste and let her suck in desperate breath.

"Why are you here, Celeste?" I sighed.

"Simply put, I... need somewhere to stay," she said anxiously.

She needed somewhere to stay? I couldn't answer that.

"What about Leo and your AIM America entourage, can't they adopt you?" asked Stefan, bitingly.

Those were my thoughts exactly, but they sounded a lot harsher aloud.

She scoffed, "What entourage? By the time Leo and I returned with rations, everyone was gone, you two included. All we found was blood. When we were about to leave, some of Abba's Frenchies showed up, and they weren't too happy you were gone, and Leo was the one who paid for it." She slowed her pace, her heart leaden from reliving the death of her companion.

I wondered if she knew it was Gavin who had saved us, if she knew anything at all about our escape, if I should sympathise with her or worry that she'd want revenge.

"So, I'm sorry if I'm unenlightened by your presence," she said sharply, as though to regain her straight and sarcastic demeanour, "but I'm only alive right now because Abba still wants you back. She can go to hell for all I care, but there is no way she'll let me leave North Hills unless I bring her you, Aimee. Now, I'm not gonna do that, but I have nowhere else to go."

She didn't add to that. Then, I realised that Celeste had honestly done me no wrong. I didn't like her, but I didn't not-trust her. She'd kidnapped me and not hurt me. Stefan and Buckley had done the same thing. Plus, she hated AIM, and that was good enough for me. I couldn't stop staring at her, though. I found it creepy how her hairstyle had morphed her face, but hadn't at the same time.

Finally, I said, "If you're gonna stay here, you're sleeping in the study."

We stood in the doorway, without actually going into the room. There sat the old sleeping bag, neatly rolled up on the floor for the rare occasions when we went camping.

I didn't allow her to object. I walked out from under the doorframe and went to the kitchen, Stefan followed me. Celeste must've spent a minute or two looking at the thing since she straggled behind us. I microwaved some leftovers from Moll's good cooking and as hard as I rummaged through the fridge, I couldn't find any cheesecake. She and I had stuffed our mouths with those fluffy garlic rolls, and Cliff had always been a pork ribs fanatic. All that was left was the roast chicken and fresh – or fresh enough – veggies, but that would keep us full. I poured each if us a glass of red grape juice and laid everything on the dining table.

We ate slowly, but took enormous bites, as if we wouldn't see the next day. The next day... I wondered if I would still be in America. I knew that I couldn't just pack up and leave that night, but what if Abba decided that we needed more bonding time, or whatever she'd like to call it? She'd get her way. "Only if you behave," her voice echoed in my head.

We all stood up and took our things into the kitchen once we were done – Stefan took my plate and I took his glass.

"I'll wash the dishes," Celeste offered. I told her that was not necessary, but she insisted.

Stefan and I watched her fill the sinks with water. The room was silent. I imagined beams between them, varying in brightness, displaying how much they loathed each other. The beams were in contrasting colours and they met at the now brunette tips of Celeste's hair. Before things got any more irrationally awkward, I saved Stefan from that room and took him upstairs, to mine.