Phil glared at Connor. "Whatever..." he replied. "This is going to be a drag." He said to nobody in-particular. Phil's anger swelled. He knew that he would be able to beat the kid a centimeter from death. How? Who was he? Connor was right, he had no clue who he was. "Shit..." Phil grunted rubbing his head with the shirt he had been given by Paige. The cut along his face was throbbing. He stood up and started to pace back and forth from the cave. The face of the girl from his dream was burned into his head. "Who are you!" He commanded himself to remember. "It's like the back of my mind has turned into a giant game of Wheel of Fortune." Phil smirked at the joke in his head.

 Phil returned to his thoughts. He remembered waking up in the field, obviously that was about an hour ago. Next, Phil started trying to remember anything before waking up in the field. He had this vivid thought of following someone in the dead of night carrying a knife. His memory failed him, because Phil then remembered somehow being in a dark room. Standing in front of a dark object, brandishing the knife. There was a sudden swift of movement behind him and he wheeled around...He remembered the face of the girl from his dream. "Rose" he blurted out. He then felt light headed and slumped against the wall of the cave. Phil said nothing. He had come so far in remembering so little.