A week passed and Auguste wasn't sure what was happening anymore. His mind was a muddied mess and he had simply withdrawn from everyone. He spent most of his days in his own room gazing blankly up at the ceiling. He kept trying to remember things and it ached because he was sure he was starting to scratch the surface, but he couldn't scratch enough to make the memories bleed out of the wound.<br/><br/>He sighed deeply and looked at his closed door. Of course  Tilda had attempted to talk to him, but he had thusly shut her out. There was something weird going on and he was sure she had some part of all the weirdness, but he couldn't pinpoint it. He got to his feet and walked over to the window so that he could look out at the sky. It was a dark sky threatening rain.<br/><br/>But he didn't care. He wanted to be out of the manor. So he slipped out unnoticed into the front yard and walked along down a cobblestone pathway towards a pair of benches. He sat down and looked up at the sky. The first raindrops began to fall onto his face. Then something flashed before his eyes- he saw Tilda laying naked before him, her cheeks flushed. Apparently he was about to have sex with her. But just as fast as it had come, it was gone again. Had that been a memoy or was his imagination simply playing tricks on him? He didn't know any more.<br/><br/>Auguste growled and slammed his fist against the concrete bench he sat on. The pain lanced through him and he groaned, but it provided a clarity of the mind that he needed. The flash of memory came back once again. He needed to find Tilda. Auguste leapt to his feet and went in search of her. It was time they figured this out. She might have just been a servant, but he was sure she was the key to reclaiming his memories.