[He rakes a hand through his hair, chewing the inside of his cheek and barely registering Dean's words.]

She was diagnosed when I was six. I didn't know what any of it meant.

[Of course he hadn't. Even his early on Google skills had only taken him so far in figuring that one out. His mind hadn't been capable of processing what it meant. Not until she started forgetting who he was. Who his dad was. Not until the hallucinations and the night terrors and the numerous hospital trips. And even then, even now he struggles to truly comprehend it.]

A lot of times when things got bad, my dad would send me to Scott's for a few days.