Ethan yawns and stretches in his seat. He glances at the dashboard and sighs as he taps the glass.

"Come on, you 2-ton death machine; recycle the fumes if you have to."

Ethan fidgets in a seat before looking at himself in the rear view mirror.

"Jeez, I look like shit; I should really take a me day."

Ethan's ginger bangs are just barely above his eyes, covering his eyebrows; his face is peppered with freckles, and his jaw bones are nearly poking out of his cheeks. His cheeks are sunken in, and he almost looks like a corpse; he's malnourished, and his lips are dry, but his dull green eyes are just as alive-looking.

Ethan continues admiring his reflection and takes his hands off the steering wheel for a second to slick his hair back and try to rub a smudge off his cheek. He notices that the road behind him is getting farther away before the airbag goes off in his face. He drove straight into a ditch and ruined the truck.

Dazed Confused and hungry, Ethan crawls out of the truck before pulling out a flip phone with the word EMERGENCY written in red Sharpie. He called the only number on it, and after 2 rings, he heard his mother's voice: "What did you do now, you brat? I'm very busy, and the stunt you pulled at your apartment will only keep the police from listing you as a suspect for so long."

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Ethan sighs and takes a deep breath before trying his best to speak in a calm and collected voice. "Hey ma, I uh fucked up pretty bad; my legs shot up, and I don't know where I am." Ethan gets cut off by an increasingly irritated Raven. "If you are asking for a ride home, the answer is no. You were kicked out because you trashed your room because you can't stop abusing those quote on quote prescriptions. I can get you a ride to rehab, but you aren't allowed home until you're sober."

Before Ethan gets a chance to rerort or even gasp, theres a click and the call is over. Ethan drops the phone and leans back against the truck and slowly slides down it. He lets out a shaky breath as he puts his head in his hands.