My dear Alexander,

I'm so selfish.

I knew I was going to die and I still didn't find a way to get your memories back.

He gave me the opportunity. He made a deal.

And I didn't accept it.

I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can forgive me. I don't expect you to.

I would have to work with him, and he would let you remember anything.

I tried to tell myself he was a liar, and a cheat, and he would never make good on this deal.

I, of course, am wrong.

He would never go back on a deal.

I didn't do it because I was selfish. Because I was a coward.

He has them. I know he does. They're out there. You just have to find them.

Enclosed is a rough sketch of what I saw. It's not much, but at least you know what you're looking for.

I'm so sorry.

Yours,
Thomas