"Carrie? Are you here?" Andrew Jenkins asked, as he knocked on the door. In the late autumn days, he had adopted the habit of stopping by her cottage on his nightly jog across the island. She was normally there, with the light on, ready to go. After what had happened in the café this morning, he was concerned about her. It was so unlike her.

The door opened slightly as he knocked on it. Frowning, he pushed it open and walked in. Pushing aside his doubts about his intrusion into her home, he made his way through her dimly lit hall, into the living room. Turning on a light, he saw Carrie huddled in a corner, surrounded by broken glass.

"Carrie, are you alright? What happened?" he demanded as he rushed forward, kneeling in front of her. She looked up at him, startled to see him. The sound of his voice had broken her out of the daze she had been in for the past hour.

"Andrew?" she asked, slightly confused. Looking around her, she could see that it was now dark outside, that she was on the floor and that Andrew was in her house.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asked, taking her head in his hands, lifting her face to meet her eyes. There was a cut underneath her eye, assumingly from the glass that had broken.

"I broke my mirror," she whispered, turning away. She stood up slowly, holding on to the wall. Surveying the floor around her, she sighed. Every once in awhile, even after almost three years, she still gave way to fits of anger. It wasn't fair; why did she have to go through this? She had almost gotten away from it. And one small flash of words, sites, sounds and senses had brought everything back.

"How? Why? Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, watching with worry as she began to pace around, crossing her arms tightly in front of her, as if to warn him away.

"I think I had a nervous breakdown, Andrew. It hasn't happened in awhile, so it hit me a little harder than it should have," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Are you okay?"

"Would you stop asking that?" she fired back. Catching herself, she watched his face as her attitude changed. He was in shock.

"I'm sorry, Andrew. I just need to work off the nervous energy left over. And you just happen to be here right now, so I'm probably going to take it out on you," she apologized.

"What brought on this…attack?"

"That's a long story, and I don't think that we should get into it right now. It's not the right time."

"Carrie, what do you know about me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, about my life, about what I do? You obviously know that I'm a teacher and the principal of the school, but what else do you know?"

"I don't really know that much about that. All I know about you is what I see now. I don't know anything about your past," she said, frowning. She paused in her pacing, distracted from herself.

"Yeah. Well, Carrie, I have my Ph.D. in psychology." Carrie frowned at him, rolled her eyes and returned to pacing.

"So what you're saying is that whatever psychological issues I have, you can probably understand them. Well, you know how many times I've heard that from other Ph.D.'s in psychology? And no one seems to know what to do, so I doubt that you could give me any insight into this," she ranted.

"But I know you, Carrie. The day I met you, I could feel that you came here to get away from something, to build a life. So that you could stop running away, and start running to something. I know, and I understand, because I came here for the very same reason."

"I thought you were born here?" she asked, her anxiety wearing down to the point where she was able to allow herself to sit down. She sat down on the floor, legs crossed, watching him.

"I was, but I couldn't wait to get off this island when I was a kid. So, as soon as I finished school, I went to college and never looked back. I went through school, got my degree, went into clinical work, worked as a professor for a bit. But something happened in my life, and I needed to get away from it. So I came back here, and started to rebuild."

"What happened?" she asked.

"A patient of mine was killed. I specialized in child psychology, you see. There was this one little girl…she was telling me stories about her parents…and I tried to help her, but she just got lost in the system. And she died," he trailed off, looking away from Carrie.

"So you gave up on the system. Shit, Andrew, you and me both."

"Carrie, I-"

"Andrew, what do you know about me?" she asked.

"Just that you used to write, were in a car accident, and haven't since."

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I guess you don't read the National Enquirer quite as often as most people. Stupid bastards couldn't even leave me alone in my hospital bed."

"This all related to your accident, Carrie?" Andrew asked, sitting down on the floor in front of her.

"I woke up, and I didn't know who I was. I had no memory of any event that ever happened in my life. It was all a blank. I couldn't recognize faces, names, the people who loved me…Do you know what it is like to just not know?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, you're lucky then. I went through six months of physical therapy, and psychological study. After six months, I couldn't take living surrounded by strangers, so I left. And here I am today," she said.

"But that doesn't explain what happened today."

"Today," she chuckled. "Today, Andrew, a miracle happened. You see, I finally had a glimpse of Cairo's life. I saw this tiny piece of it. I remembered something! And it was like a slap in the face, a taunting little glimpse into what I could have if only I could REMEMBER," she cried, standing up and pacing again.

"What about your family, Carrie? Do they even know where you are?" Andrew asked.

"No. I just…left and never came back. I told…I told Nick that I had to go, that I just couldn't stay there any more, watching them all constantly hope that someday I may know who they are."

"Nick?"

"Cairo's fiancé. The man she was supposed to marry. If you were engaged, ready to spend the rest of your life with someone, and one morning she woke up and was terrified because there was this stranger staring down at them, how would you feel? Every day, I could see how much he missed her, how he longed for her to get better and come back to him. It was killing him, seeing her every single day, but something that wasn't her? I couldn't stay there and hurt him anymore. I had to find my own life, give up on trying to live hers," she said.

"Why do you say 'her'?"

"Because to me, she's a whole other person. I have her looks, her voice, her money, her style of handwriting…everything on the surface is the same, but I'm not her. She's just a stranger to me that died on the day that I was born," she said.

"Carrie, I had no idea…why didn't you tell me?" Andrew asked.

"I ran away from it. I didn't think it would follow me here. But I guess it did. I wish I had died with her that night," she said sadly. Andrew reached out and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

"Don't ever say anything like that," he ordered. She looked up at him and saw something in his eyes that made her pull away.

"Deal. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Are you ready to go out for our run?" she asked, walking away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

"Just keep running away, Carrie. One day, I'll catch up to you," he said softly as she ran upstairs to change.