After Ryan had spoken his piece, he drew back against the wall and pretended that there was nobody around him, and he was alone. Slowly but surely, as the final person did or did not confess, Ryan managed to blot out most of the speech and heavy breathing of his accomplices in the room, as a sharp ringing noise in his ear steadily increased in volume. Time passed, unbeknownst to Ryan, and the ringing sound was almost too much - and it sounded just like, like... Then Ryan realised he hadn't done what he was doing now, blotted everything out and escaped from his situation since... 13 years ago... that night -

Ryan came to with a sharp breath and again, the blinding light stopped him thrusting forwards in shock. The room was still occupied and nobody had really noticed his actions - so he assumed they were too busy worrying about themselves and whatever they were confessing to to notice him at the back of the room. A low buzzing sound had filled the room, and as one of the people in the room starting moving away, it stopped. Quickly, Ryan caught onto the fact that he was not being let to go free and was going to spend the foreseeable future in a jail cell.
[i]Well,[/i] Thought Ryan, [i]At least I'll be in a place I'm comfortable in.[/i]
The four remaining possible convicts were filed out of the room and led down what felt like an eternity of corridors and hallways, sometimes walking through dimly lit halls that you couldn't see the bottom of, or areas with so many turnings Ryan found himself brushing hard against each edge and just attempting to walk forwards with not much success. 
Maybe he was still high, and was hallucinating the whole thing. [i]Nah,[/i] He thought, [i]since when was a 20-bag enough to get me this fucked.[/i]
This had to be real. Ryan then suddenly remembered the contents of his hoodie pockets and eagerly stuck his hands into them.
Of course they were empty. Cops around Manchester might be fat, lazy shits but they knew how to check for weapons. Which left Ryan without his pull-up knife, which could have been useful. His weed and gear was gone as well, which he really started to dislike the bastards for. If they're gonna lock you up, at least let you make yourself pass out so the time goes a bit faster. Maybe this wasn't Manchester. The events of the night before had still not come back to Ryan.
He sighed, and time passed again until they arrived at the cell.

Ryan quickly looked up, examining the cell. [i]Standard issue.[/i] Ryan often recounted things to himself in his head. It helped with the lifestyle, he had figured, or else the same cycle of his boring life could drive him insane.
The four entered the cell, which was joint parallel onto another. In the cell opposite, an old man sat, watching them - as batty as the usuals, too. But a glint in his eye said otherwise, and Ryan matched his gaze as they entered the cell. He barged past the couple of people in front of him and quickly took the cell furthest away from the door. Experience had mentored Ryan through the one-night jail cell extravaganza, and he by now knew the ins and outs of this process.
As per usual, Ryan would pull his hood up and turn a blind eye to the rest of the inhabitants of the cell, and he went to do just that. However, after the guards had left the vicinity of the cell, the old man that was different from the others spoke.
Ryan turned and opened an eye and an ear, listening to what he had to say.
And it was now that Ryan learned what he should have in that interrogation room - they were all accused of murder. [i]Bullshit,[/i] Thought Ryan, with an angered flare, [i]I think I would remember. Besides, we ain't killed anyone since Johnson... and then all his mates backed off.[/i] Even so, Ryan found himself sitting up and listening to every word the old man said with great interest.
His words made Ryan paranoid, and he glanced over the other inhabitants of the cell, no longer attempting to sleep or thinking of doing so. Sure, the old man was insane as Ryan had predicted, but he said things in a riddled way that Ryan understood. It was like what you thought after taking a fair amount of LSD or a couple of lines of coke.

He revealed his name - Ethan, and Ryan tried to recall anyone he knew by that name, but none came up.
First a girl answered him, one with strange eyes and an even stranger way of speaking. [i]That ones an addict,[/i] Thought Ryan, but then again, so was he.
A middle-aged guy spoke next, claiming himself to be innocent. Ryan eyed him, [i]It's usually the men who do the crime.[/i] But it could be any one of them, thought Ryan - looking at the strange woman and the other female in the cell. It could even be Ryan himself, but he would have to wait for his memory to come back to find out.
It usually took half the afternoon, and since some kind of light was coming through the narrow window, Ryan thought he would have to remember soon.
Still, if we was in here, he might as well make the most of it:
"[b]Ryan.[/b]" He said, with a low and uncaring tone. "[b]And this is my bed here, so fuck off away from it.[/b]"