I woke up in a hospital bed with my leg wrapped in gauze. I was trying to figure out how I got here, but then just remembered that my mother just passed away, and in a fit of anger, I ran into the street and got hit by a car, breaking my leg. I looked around the room and saw a doctor writing on a clipboard glance up at me, and then go back to his notes. Oh, God. . . I'm so sorry, Mom. . .

"So you're finally awake, huh?" He remarked. I asked, "How long was I out for?"

"You went into a coma for three days. That was quite an injury you had. Good thing we repaired the tibia and femur bones in your leg. Try moving it." The doctor told me. I started moving my leg around and it felt as good as new.

"How did you do this? I thought fractures like this took months to heal." I asked in awe. The doctor laughed, "This isn't 2012! It took us about two hours to complete the procedure. This is the result of years of medical research! But, you've just got back from the war, so I guess you're still getting adjusted to the way things are in the real world."

He's making me feel like I'm a dinosaur. I'm only 27 years old, for Christ's sake! I keep up with the times! Well, sort of.

"What happened with my mom?" I asked quietly with my eyes glued to the floor.

"Her body was cremated while you were in your coma. Her ashes are in this box here, if you want them." It was a wooden container about the size of a small shoe box. I took them and put them on my bedside table.

When the doctor left the room and shut the door behind him. I then saw through the window on the door, that my doctor was talking to two police officers, and he was pointing to which room I was in. I then knew they were going to arrest me for beating up a doctor, pushing a guy down, and destruction of private property (throwing a chair out the window and destroying a bunch of stuff) when my mom died and I went on a rampage. I removed the needle out of my arm which was feeding sedatives into my bloodstream. I locked the door and got my clothes out of the closet they had there in the room. I took off my hospital gown and quickly started to put on my boxers, socks, jeans, white t-shirt, boots, dogtags, and my combat jacket.

I managed to get on my jeans, boxers, t-shirt, and dogtags on by the time I heard a knock on the door, telling me to open up. I saw it was the police officers that were just being directed to my room. I opened the door and they said, "LCPD, Mr. Ryder. You're under arrest. Now, I'm going to have to ask that you cooperate-" Before he could finish his sentence, I slammed the door shut and locked it. I grabbed my bed and moved it in front of the door.

"Open up! You've got nowhere to run!" They started to pound on the door, trying to break it down. I laced up my boots and threw them around my neck, and threw my jacket over my shoulder. I pulled the fire alarm, setting off the sprinklers, trying to give the cops something else to deal with instead of me. I grabbed the desk chair in the room and threw it out the window. "Just leave me alone, I didn't do anything!" I yelled at the cops. I grabbed my mother's ashes and I jumped out the window (I was on the second floor), cutting my bicep pretty badly on a piece of glass protruding from the panel, landing on top of an ambulance parked outside the hospital. I howled in pain when I landed feet first on several shards of glass which were on the roof of the ambulance. I fell over in pain and toppled off the ambulance roof.

I crawled into the ambulance and started it up. I put my mother's box of ashes on the passenger seat and hit the gas. I turned on the sirens to get traffic to move out of the way. I lost the cops and drove to an alleyway in Hove Beach next to Comrade's Bar.

I turned off the sirens and put the ambulance in park and crawled into the back of the ambulance to get medical supplies. I grabbed forceps, hydrogen peroxide, stitches and a needle, several gauze pads, a few bottles of painkillers, and a metal tray. I started pulling out each shard of glass and placing them on the metal tray. I opened up a bottle of Valium and took a couple pills to dull the pain. When I finished taking the glass out, I rubbed hydrogen peroxide on the wounds. I then did the same to the cut on my arm, then stitched it back up. I took the painkillers and put them in my jacket pockets for later. I put on my boots and jacket and left the ambulance with my mother's box of ashes clutched under my arm. I am going to fulfill her wishes and sprinkle her ashes off of Bullworth Pier, where we talked after my graduation ceremony ten years ago.

I bought a one way bus ticket to Bullworth and started remembering my teenage years there. I haven't been there for years, and I'm starting to wonder if the place has changed in the time I've been gone. I got on the bus and gave the bus driver my ticket. He ripped my ticket in half, and gave me back one of the halves. I took my seat in the middle of the bus and went to sleep. I kept having horrible dreams about the war, and how many brave men and women I watched die. I kept waking up in cold sweats and got barely any sleep. I took more pills to help calm me down and kept looking out the window, thinking about how I'm going to support myself now that I'm back from the war. The job market is in the worst shape since The Great Depression and being an ex-Marine doesn't mean shit to anyone. I don't want to return to my criminal lifestyle, but what other choice do I have? I'm homeless, and I only have four bucks to my name. But enough about that: I just need to take care of my mother's ashes, and then I need to figure out what I'm gonna do from there. . .

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