I feel my stomach on the roll. I need my memory back.

Severed limbs. Pools of blood. Scarlett holding her brother's head in her hands and tossing it to the ground. Katana in his hand. Putting body parts into a trash bag.

Jack had been seeing the images in his head since Sunday morning. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind went straight to the dream he'd been having. As Monday came around, the images started to feel more like memories, but he didn't think himself capable of committing such acts. In his time undercover and in the time since agreeing to take part in Scarlett's illicit activities, he had done some less than legal things, including what needed to be done to rid his girlfriend of her abusive and controlling "boss".

He had no regrets about any of those things, but thinking that he had taken part in dismembering dead bodies and hiding them aay to never be found? It made Jack a little sick to his stomach. Despite quitting the force some months ago, he still very much had the serve and protect mentality, and something about it didn't feel right. Still, he could also feel that those men had meant nothing but harm to Scarlett, and she had done what needed to be done in self defense. To think of little Scarlett taking out so many men so violently opened up another bag of questions entirely, questions that he was trying to avoid running through over and over again.

Paxton was dead. The man who had tried to blackmail them for murder was gone, his video lost with him. The first thing Jack had done Sunday morning was check. His biggest concern was keeping himself and his girlfriend out of jail for something he wasn't really sure why they had done. There had been a lot of that lately.

For months, he had remembered doing something but not really knowing why. Insane things, reckless things. He was known for being impulsive and putting himself in danger for the sake of the job, but this was beyond that. He remembered feeling bored and doing these things to cure that boredom. People had been injured and killed because of him.

Sometimes, he wondered if something had gotten into the water supply and driven the entire city insane. All of his friends seemed to be in the same boat. He always remembered them being around when these strange things happened, but, six months later, he still didn't know why or if any of it was happening.

Jack wondered if maybe his parents had been right all those years ago when they insisted to every doctor in Vancouver that their son wasn't all there, that he needed psychiatric help. The doctors had disagreed with his parents, and Jack had suffered for it - but now? Now he wasn't so sure.

There was no other explanation. Jack didn't go against the law without a damn good reason, and, as he thought about his dreams, the fact he couldn't explain his actions with those dead men in Scarlett's apartment horrified him more than anything else.