"Welcome to Peterborough, NH A Good Town to Live In" Jake read through his thickly tinted sunglasses as the taxi drove into town. It was quit a ways for a taxi to drive from the airport but since Uncle Sam was paying for it he didn't care. It had been three years since he'd been here last on leave when his mother passed away. She had been dying of cancer, and had been on Hospice Care for over a year. Jake and his father were at his mother's bedside as she took her last breath, it was the first time he'd seen his father cry.

The second time was when father saw him for the first time after the IED blew up his Humvee. He had been flown from Afghanistan to Ramstein, Germany where he was stabilized and then flown to Walter Reed. He had been awarded the Purple Heart in flight from Afghanistan to Ramstein. The bomb went off while he was driving, it was hidden in the center of his side of the road, the explosion basically melted a large portion of the right side of his face. The concussion blew him upwards and knocked his head into the ceiling. As the truck basically exploded and rolled he was ejected due to the melted seat belt and his right leg was broken as well as burned. A year later he was still learning to walk with the titanium rods in his legs, but no amount of plastic surgery would fix the burned side of his face. He still had issues with bright sunlight and loud noises but he adjusted to that by wearing noise cancelling headphones and very dark sunglasses. Because Petersborough was near the mountains and stayed cool he could get away with wearing a hoodie most of the time to hide his face.

After the taxi pulled up into his Father's driveway, he paid the driver and got out of the car. Standing on his crutches he watched his father walk out and pick up his rucksack. Feeling helpless was the worst of this situation Jake thought to himself. He hobbled on his crutches to the basement door which used to be a garage but was now his apartment. His grandmother had lived with his parents until she passed away, and now the basement was his. As he stepped in he saw that it had been repainted but other than it was pretty much the same. It had a small living room and kitchen and then a small bedroom off to the side.

He watched his father lay the bag on his bed. "Thanks for the help dad."

"Anytime son, I ordered pizza for supper, and I have some beers in the fridge, I checked with your doctor and he said a few beers would be ok with your medication, I also setup your appointment for your new therapist. The Doc said she may be by this afternoon or tomorrow. I'll be upstairs but if you need anything just holler."

Jake thanked his dad and watched him go upstairs, He sat on his couch as the song "I Dreamed a Dream" began to play. There were several artists who had recorded it but he liked Idina Menzel's version the best. He couldn't help but think of how fitting the line was "Life has killed the dream I dreamed." His life was a wreck and it was basically surviving from One Day to the next. He just sat there looking out the window and hit the repeat button on his MP3 player.

He wasn't even 25 yet and was disabled, a cripple he thought to himself. I wanted to go into Law Enforcement like my father and grandfather but now there is no way I cant do it. As a Master at Arms or MA in the military he handled weapons and ammunition on a daily basis, about the only line of work he could get was maybe at an indoor shooting range teaching old ladies to shoot revolvers but then again with my scarred up face they probably wouldn't want to be seen with me anyway.

Jake reached down and picked up the local newspaper, today's headline "Local Hero Wins Purple Heart and Returns Home." There was Jake's picture from boot camp, in his uniform with the military stare, and a future ahead of him and yet now it was nothing. Angrily he threw the newspaper across the room and drank another beer. The rain falling outside his window was the perfect conclusion to this depressing homecoming.