Lance wandered through a dark neighborhood. He knew he was searching for something important, but he didn’t have a clue what. The air became bitterly cold as the sky gradually changed colors. First blue, then gray, then green, then red, then pitch black. Suffocating silence. No light. Terror pounded inside Lance’s heart. Suddenly, his body shot forward at the speed of sound. He found himself in a room, surrounded by glass. Moving pictures formed in the glass. My memories, Lance thought, a slide show of my memories. The day he was born. The time he tried to cook dinner for his mom on Mother’s Day and the time he played catch with his dad. The day when he finger-painted his sister’s cat. All the family vacations. His high school graduation. Stacy’s wedding. The first time he met his four best friends. The tours and concerts. Cruel laughter resounded. Lance cringed. There was nowhere to hide. A hand appeared, and one by one, took away the pictures. "No!" Lance screamed. "Give me my memories!" Lance was again plunged into a black void, except for two eyes. Two evil, red eyes. Claws curled around his throat. The demon whispered five words: "Your mind belongs to me."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Joey fumbled for the light switch. J.C. stumbled out of bed. Justin rushed across the room holding a glass of water. Mass confusion spread throughout the tired Nsync-ers. "What happened?" "Who yelled?" "An ax murderer break in?" "Joey, what is it between you and murderers?" "If whoever was howling at the moon doesn’t have a decent excuse for waking me, heads will roll." "EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" All heads turned to face Justin. Justin blew out air to cool his exasperation. "Lance had a terrible nightmare. He’s really upset. Cut him some slack." Chris’s cheeks flushed crimson red. "Oh, um, that’s a decent excuse." The telephone rang. J.C. answered it. "Hello? Oh. Sorry. Good night." He placed the phone in its cradle. "That was the manager. Apparently our neighbors have been complaining. He threatened to kick us out if our loudness escalated any higher." The four guys ran into the room Justin and Lance were sharing. Lance shook uncontrollably. His face and shirt were drenched in cold sweat. Justin forced the water down his throat. Joey put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It’s okay man. It was just a nightmare." Lance eyed them, at first suspicious, and then baffled. Chris waved his arms. "Yoo-hoo. Lance, buddy, you with us?" Fear and frustration filled Lance’s brain. "Who are you guys, and who is Lance?"
Joey, Justin, Chris, and J.C. anxiously paced in the waiting room the next day. Dr. Devereaux entered from his office. The concerned looks on his patient’s friends’ faces told him the diagnosis wouldn’t be taken lightly. "Folks, this is the strangest case of amnesia I have ever seen. The cause is indeterminable. No head wounds, and no past or family history associated with mental illness. Be patient and try to fill in the blank spaces." J.C. banged his fist on the coffee table. "Isn’t there more you can do for him? This our best friend, and we’ve got concerts to perform at!" "Sorry son, but unless you possess the amazing power to teach Lance all the lyrics and dance moves and cues within a few short hours, Lance cannot perform."
Dr. Devereaux returned to the x-ray room. Lance squirmed. "What’s wrong with me?" Dr. Devereaux examined the tests as critically as possible. "Nothing son." "What do you mean, nothing? I had this awful nightmare, and when I woke up, everything was a huge blank!" Dr. Devereaux adjusted his glasses. "Science isn’t able to explain each and every problem that pops up. Yes, your case is unique, but you are no freak of nature." Humph. I dream that a monster steals my memories and claims it has stolen my brain, and suddenly I’m overcome with amnesia. You don’t think that’s freaky?
Lance rode in the limo next to the men who said they were his best friends. They also said his name was Lance and he belonged to an internationally famous band called Nsync. Guess I’ll have to take their word for it, because I can’t remember what’s real and what isn’t. He did remember the frightening dream. He remembered how he got the weird ring on his finger. He remembered Anna. That summed it up. The limo parked. Chris, or was it Joey, greeted a young man juggling a guitar and sheets of music. "Gosh Lance, I heard the news. Sheryl called me this morning. I’m Cody Hunter. We met yesterday. You were impressed with my musical talent." Cody Hunter. The name didn’t ring a single bell. And who the heck was Sheryl?
Suddenly, unprovoked anger boiled inside Lance. He shoved Cody against the car. Fists pounded into Cody’s chest. Cody struggled weakly. "Stop it," he gasped. Sweat dripped at Lance’s brow. He growled, "Die Cody." Cody whimpered. The security guards wrestled Lance of his shocked victim. "WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? ARE YOU INSANE?!" Lance’s breath came in short gasps. The spark of madness extinguished, leaving him frightened and confused. Never in his life had he turned violent for no reason. "I d-don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean to do it. I couldn’t control my fists." Chris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, save it for somebody dumb enough to believe you." "But I’m telling the truth! Please believe me!" He whined. Just before the unprovoked attack, he’d received a vision of himself. He sat in a dark void, chained, unable to move, begging for help. A raspy voice whispered, Pound Cody. He’d seen himself screaming no. The voice repeated the message more insistently. It was like an out-of-body experience. Lance lost control of his fists. Something else took hold of his actions. Oh, God, He prayed silently, What is going on with my mind? His throat tightened. Did a demon really possess my brain? Of course not. It’s impossible for evil to steal a person’s mind! Considering the funny business that had been going on once he’d accepted the ring, there was little that seemed out of reality’s bounds.
