Disclaimer: The characters in this fic belong to the FOX network.

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My body immediately tenses at the sight of the older man standing in front of me, and I take a step back as he walks into the hallway towards me. I can already smell the stench of alcohol radiating off of him, and as I turn to the side to walk away, he grabs my arm and roughly pulls me into the apartment, causing me to stumble back and fall on my ass.

If it weren't for all the other time's I've been put in this position, I would probably be scared shitless of the bigger and stronger man as he stumbles towards me, almost falling on his face as he does so.

"I guess you heard about that slut of a mother of yours. I always knew she would die doing something stupid, but he'll, I didn't think she would kill an innocent kid in the process."

His words are menacing as he slowly comes towards me, and I feel the anger rising in my with each word that leaves his mouth. He did this to her, he kept letting her get drunk, and kept providing her with the drugs to fuel her habit.

"You know, there was only one negative thing about your mom dieing in that car accident; she left a worthless piece of shit son behind, who's done nothing but cause trouble for anyone he meets. You should have been in that car with her, that way it could have gotten rid of two major hassles in my life."

His words seem to set me off, and I charge at the drunk man, finally gaining enough guts to defend myself as he falls back to the ground and I sit over him, allowing my fists to connect with his face repeatedly like he's done to me so many times in the past.

I try to kick him away from my as he grabs my wrists and flips me over so that my back is flat against the ground, and I claw at his hands as he wraps them around my throat and starts choking me.

I use one of my hands to feel around me, looking for some sort of weapon to get him off me, and I'm successful as I pick up and empty beer bottle off the floor and slam it against the side of his head. Unfortunately he doesn't get knocked out the way I'd hoped, but he does release my neck long enough for me to knee him in the balls. He doubles over in pain, but it doesn't seem to last long enough as he tries to grab my ankle as I run towards the door. His fingers get a loose grip on me, but I kick him away and open the door quickly, causing it to slam against the wall as I run down the hallway.

It's not until I'm outside of the apartment building, standing on the curb, that I realize that I left my backpack in the apartment, and I curse loudly when I realize my wallet and all of my money is in it.

I run my hands through my hair and try to calm my nerves as I look around at my surroundings, trying to remember what direction the hospital is in.

It doesn't take long to remember where it is, considering I've been there plenty of times before due to the asshole back in the apartment building, and I shove my hands in my pocket as I walk down the street, in the direction of the hospital.

I continuously re-play the scene of my mom leaving the Cohen's in my head, and I feel myself getting angry at her. She didn't care one bit about me, no matter how much she thinks she did. If she cared one ounce, she would have taken two seconds out of her life to pick up a phone and called me, to at least check to make sure I was still alive.

By the time I finally reach the hospital, the only feelings I have left for her are anger and hate, and I'm not sure I even want to be here anymore, to see what kind of destruction she did to herself.

I stand in front of the large brick hospital, my stomach churning itself into knots as I contemplate whether or not I should actually go in. This is what I came back to Chino for though, and after a few minutes, I decide I have a few things I need to say to her, and it's either now or never, no turning back now.

I don't bother stopping to ask for directions to the morgue as I walk in, I've been there plenty of times before after most of my previous friends were killed or died by their own hands. If Sandy hadn't got me out when he did, I might have become the next occupant of a body bag.

When I walk into the cold room, there's a lady in her mid-forties sitting at a desk, typing away on her computer, and she looks up at me as I clear my throat. She looks somewhat startled at first, probably by the bruise that has been undoubtedly left behind on my neck, and after a few seconds of just staring at me, she asks me what I need.

"My mom was killed in a car accident last night, and I need to identify the body."

The lady seems somewhat taken back by my emotionless voice, and she tells me to hold on one second before disappearing through a door that says 'Morgue' on it.

She returns a few seconds later with an older gentleman, probably in his sixties, following close behind her, and he extends his hand to me as he introduces himself as Doctor Collins.

"I presume Dawn Atwood is your mother?"

I nod my head, slightly confused as to how he knew, and he picks up on my confusion quickly as he begins to explain.

"She's the only woman killed in a car accident last night. I was just about to start her autopsy, but I'll give you a few minutes alone with her if you'd like."

I nod my head again, and he instructs me to follow him as we walk through the door he came out of previously. The room smells heavily of death as we walk over to a metal table in the middle of the room, where a body is covered completely with a white sheet.

Before the doctor can get a chance to do anything, I reach for the sheet and pull it back, revealing the bruised and battered face of my mother.

The doctor seems somewhat shocked by my actions, but I ignore him as he tells me he'll give me a few minutes alone, and walks back out of the room, allowing the door to close quietly behind him.

I can't seem to pull my eyes away from the lifeless form in front of me, and I just want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her violently, asking her why she had to leave me. We could have been a family, we could both still be together if she would have just stayed at the Cohen's and got help.

I grab the edge of the metal slab with my hands and hold it tightly as I manage to pull my eyes from her and look around the room, wishing there was something I could just throw or break.

Everything was perfect at the Cohen's. For one day, our past, all of our problems had disappeared, and it felt like we were actually a family. I felt like she cared for me, but then she had to fall back into her old habits. All she had to do was tell the waiter at the party 'no' when he offered her a drink, but a drink is more important to her than I am. It always has been, I should have known she wouldn't change.

I feel a lone tear slide down me cheek, and I get angry at myself. I notice a tray sitting a short distance from the table with different scalpels and other utensils on it, and I use all my strength to pick it up and throw it against the wall, listening as the tray breaks and the utensils go everywhere.

The door slams open, and I expect the doctor to come in, but instead Sandy runs in and grabs me, pinning my arms to my side as he tries to calm me down. I start kicking my legs around and trying to pull my arms away from him, but it's no use as his strength over powers me.

I start screaming 'I hate her' loudly as Sandy tries to hold me still and the doctor lifts up the sleeve to my shirt, and sticks me in the arm with something sharp. It's only a matter of seconds before I feel my body becoming limp, and Sandy gently lowers me to the ground as I fight to keep my eyelids open.

"Ryan, everything's okay, just close your eyes and get some sleep."

I try to resist the urge, but I soon lose the fight as my eyelids slide close on their own accord, and I'm pulled into an unsettling darkness.