2003, Mid December 7:32 a.m.

There was a loud knock. Ryan didn't realize that's what woke him up, not at first. Still, he quickly moved down to the kitchen and took a couple of his pills. Usually his mother was up and ready by now, her being a natural early bird. Thus resulted in Ryan waking so early during Christmas break.

The knock sounded again, sadder this time. Ryan heard this one, and moved to the door. He hadn't texted Brendon yet, although they had been hanging out an awful lot. He peered through the peephole, and saw two officers dressed in uniform at his door.

He hesitantly opened the door. The officers stood quietly for a moment. Ryan's hair was messy and sticking up in every direction, his shirt was wrinkled and his pajama bottoms were maybe an inch too short for his long legs, exposing a bit more of his ankle. He was just a kid, although he would be turning eighteen next month.

"George Ross?" The officer to the left asks. His name tag reads Officer N. Rite.

"Yessir?" Ryan answered hesitantly.

"Your mother was in an accident this morning."

Ryan holds his breath for what feels like forever, and the hot tears welling up in his eyes contrasts greatly to the snow falling outside.

"Oh God," he manages, sounding broken. His grip on the door immediately tightens.

The officers take turns telling Ryan what he's sure must be more important information, but eventually they leave Ryan to grieve alone for a while before they proceed with anything official. 

He closes the door, and it shuts heavily, the sound amplified by the emptiness of the entire house. Missing a life.

He goes up to his room and calls Brendon. He answers on the third ring.

"Ryan?" He asks, groggily. For a moment, Ryan wonders if he even read the caller ID before he answered.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Oh, uh, what's up? It's early," Brendon comments.

"Could you," Ryan feels his voice breaking, but ignores it, "come over please. I have a lot to tell you."