He had a split second thought of insanity to just start ramming cars, but he knew that he’d more than likely be put away in a nice place with men in...white coats. Although, he thought to himself, Three hot’s and a cot doesn’t sound so – BLEEP BLEEP! BLEEP BLEEP! Dylan’s Nextel two-way began blaring, which jolted him from his pleasant thoughts of white walls, white sheets and mashed potatoes everyday. He pulled the phone from the holster and glanced at the number. Sighing, he flipped it open.. "Yes. If I decide to do that. I don't have to. It's up to me. I'm not sure I want to put you through the pain that those memories cause me." God, she was sweet! She would continue to suffer alone, a pain that was overwhelming her, rather that bring me pain. She was also crazy."Megan, you have to restore my memory. This... scribe?... function you do... it is too much for you to handle alone. If you restore my memory, I can help you with it. I can help you avoid silly conclusions like that you. More

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