When I awoke, the first thing that started appearing in front of my eyes was an unfamiliar room. There isn't a person in the house. It's completely empty. I get up and walk, then I began searching, and when I go outside, I see a gathering of cops, an ambulance, forensics, and photographers, as if they'd seen something newsworthy and horrible. Like a television scene.
Our house was directly in front of me when I realized, "Oh, this was our neighbor's house," and I turned around.
I try to return to our house, but there are a lot of people I don't recognize.
I was completely muddled.
When I came in and saw them getting something from our house. When I first saw it, I was disturbed. Then, all of a sudden, a police officer nagged me and started yelling at me to leave the scene. It was drawing to a close.
I saw a corpse.
It had a gruesome appearance, which I can still vividly recall. It left me traumatized and haunted me constantly. They try to cover my eyes, but I have already seen them.
With a baffled expression on my face, I took the cop's hand and asked, "Where is my father?" I can hardly stand. I'm trembling. I was drained. . . as well as helpless
The police didn't respond for a while and then did. "I'm sorry." I was young, and I didn't quite understand it until I grew up and realized the significance of those words.
I'm not aware of what's going on that day. They simply told me to do and go to this and that, and I did so every time. The morgue staff handed me a note that said "I am sorry," and it was handwritten by my father. I'm fully cognizant of it.
I left and attempted to return home. I'm completely alone. I'm terrified. But a neighbor of mine kept an eye on me and even gave me some food to eat.
I'm at a loss for what to do with my life.
My father is said to have gone to see my mother.
And, as naive as a child can be, I chose to wait and went to sleep for the entire day. Since my father stated before his death that I can see my mother while I am sleeping if my father goes to see where my mother is. Maybe I'll see them both while I'm falling asleep.
That was when I realized it was all a lie. My father tells lies. So that he can have something to hide behind.
--
The incident was covered extensively in the news, newspapers, and online forums. It was controversial.
"Rylan Grayson, a late actor, committed suicide at the age of 35."
I am the son of a late actor with a gambling addiction. The house, the nightmare I have every night, a piece of a written letter that I wonder what it has to do with me, my trauma because of him, his enormous amount of debt I have to pay, I resent him muchly that when I am an adult and have come to my senses. "He deserved it, and I'm relieved he's no longer here," I reasoned.
They said my father was a talented actor, and I agree. That is the only truth, because I am the only witness, despite not having seen how he acts on camera. Because he made me believe that everything he said was true, that he was a good father.
They say he's a shame and a huge loss to the industry. When he's mediocre in my opinion.
I was cast as a child actor within the same industry as him by a lady. I accept it because I need to make a profit. They correlate me to my father, who does well or exceeds expectations at work. I have viewed an ace at a young age, with a promising future ahead of me, and I wish the same for myself.
But I got tired of the industry and left because I no longer wanted or enjoyed it. That's when I turned criminal. They taught me how to fight, kill, and defy the law.
Every day, I was fleeing something I didn't want to return to.
I run and run until I reach the edge of the cliff.
I've been cursed.
I deserved to die.
I'm the worst person they've ever met, and I have nowhere to go.
I do not want to be in their grip. So I leap and allow myself to be swept away by the waves of sorrow.