The American Nightmare [BoyXBoy]

.:Epilogue:.

Dear whom it may concern,

Take this letter as a goodbye from me as, by the time you are reading this, there is no way that I will be alive. I guess I owe everyone an explanation, so here it is.

I never thought that being in the spotlight would be so irritating and tiring. I had basically lived in hiding for my entire life so, when I was suddenly exposed to the world, with every social media outlet begging for my story, I found myself becoming very stressed.

It was quick to get out that the world-famous actor, Kellin Quinn, had been kidnapped by a cult of Satan-worshippers and subdued to immense torture over the past few weeks, but found comfort in the second-to-youngest boy in the family.

As soon as we drove away from the house and we reached the airport, it was a miracle that we were not taken to a hospital instead. But, as the only member of our group who was in the right state to negotiate, I convinced them to allow us onto the plane. I was not sure what pushed them to let us get on - the desperation in my voice or the crowds of people gathering to hear why two famous people were a bloody mess. In the end, I managed to get us onto a plane and as far away from that place as possible.

Ronnie obviously did not think it would be too bad, so he simply bought first-class tickets for an average plane, but we were redirected onto a more advanced one where a doctor would be able to help until we reached an actual hospital.

After less than a day in Hollywood, what felt like hundreds of people were surrounding the hospital we were staying at. No one knew much, mainly because the story had stayed between Ronnie, Kellin and I. Those two were in no position to talk to anyone, as they were completely drained and, according to a professional doctor, I was in shock and was experiencing severe PTSD, so they let me off for a couple of days.

I did not want to hold back for long though, as I did not want my psychopathic family to have a clear name for much longer. So, finally, after three days, I told my story to the police. However, there is a certain thing I am guilty of. And that is lying. It was selfish of me to do, but I felt like I deserved it. I was still feeling completely guilty for doing so many awful things, but I probably saved more lives than I ended, by exposing my family. It was the only thing I was proud of and, because of that, I felt like I deserved some freedom. I knew that, if I told them the whole truth about how I was involved with the torture and killings of all of the victims, I would be just as bad as my parents and I would be given a similar punishment to the one they would receive. And the best thing? I would get away with it.

After I explained most of the events, a doctor informed me that the amount of the substance which I injected into Mike would be fatal for even a horse. This meant that, by the time Ronnie had arrived at the farm, Mike was already either dead or close to death.

I did not know what had happened to my father when I shot in his direction but, from what I remembered, not a single sound came from him. Even if I missed, he would surely have some sort of reaction. But he did not make a sound. So I cancelled it down to one thing: I shot him in the head and he was dead.

My mother? Well, she has been in that basement for over three days so, unless she had eaten a lot previously, she would have surely died of hunger because I was sure that there was no food down there in the basement. And, as it happened in the middle of the night, I doubted that her stomach was very full beforehand. She was not a young woman, making her more vulnerable to death. I was just praying to God that she was dead.

It was a horrible thing to pray for, and there is no way that God would grant my wish, but I hope that he understood just how much she had hurt me. She hurt everyone around her through either emotional or physical abuse.

Ah, as we're on the topic of physical abuse, I finally had the bandages taken off my hands by doctors at the hospital. One look at them was enough for me to want to cut them off. The skin was blotchy and red, uneven and peeling. This was caused by lack of proper medical care, but what was I supposed to do? I had no idea how to treat a wound like this, so all I could do was bandage up my hands. Now though, I regretted doing that so much that I pleaded for the doctors to supply me with a pair of tinted plastic gloves, so that I would not have to look at the abominations which connected to my arms. I felt embarrassed of others seeing it as well.

So, back to the police. Somehow, the information I gave them was out to the public on the same fucking day. I had no idea how stupid they had to be to tell outsiders what was going on. Unless someone was bribed or threatened into leaking my statement. Either way, I was upset about it. I did not want the whole world knowing. But, at the same time, I wanted everyone to know. My feelings felt very complex.

By my 4th day in the world, Kellin's family had visited me. His parents were so elated to see his 'savior' that they decided to thank me through the only thing they cared about: money. I did not complain though, however I was slightly irritated by the fact that they valued matter over emotion. This gave me the chance to finally leave the hospital. Ronnie was not allowed to leave his bed and Kellin was still asleep, so I was alone. Most of the time, I watched his soft face, (once again) praying that he was not in a coma and this was only temporary. I wanted to see him healthy and happy and smiling, at least one last time.

When I left the hospital for the day, I was greeted by crowds of news reporters who were probably willing to risk their lives for more details on the brief story which they were in possession of. I was safely escorted into a cab, asking for the driver to take me to the best restaurant he knew. Why? Because I knew I did not have long left, and I wanted to experience life the proper way; make the most of it.

The food there was nice: nothing like what I had ever had before. It was a long wait at my lonely table, but it was worth it. I even found myself getting flirted with by the waiter, who seemed to be a woman in her mid or early 20s. She looked a bit older than me, but I paid barely any attention to her.

When I left the restaurant, the next place I visited was the local bookstore. The thing that drew me in most was the smell. I loved the scent of new books and this entire shop was blessed with this aroma. I found some new types of book which I had never heard of before like manga and journals, and biographies on people who I never knew existed like Kurt Cobain and Steve Jobs. I bought them all.

The last location I had time to visit was the cinema which I accidentally came across. I got a single ticket for the first film I saw and, upon watching the beginning, I figured that it was some sort of comedy. During certain parts, it brought a smile to my face, even a laugh sometimes. It was so bizarre to be sitting in a dark room full of strangers, without sensing someone's hot breath on my neck or feeling demanding hands wonder over my body. I felt...safe. Safer than ever in my life.

A bittersweet tear fell onto my cheek.

It was a miserable end to a perfect day. Why, you ask? As, no matter how safe I feel, or how loved I am, or how much happiness I experience, I know that I will never reach a happy ending. I can spend my whole life praying for forgiveness, but it will not be given to me because, when you start speaking with the Devil, he never shuts up. He ends up being the only one able to fill your silence which, in turn, creates an even more torturous emptiness in your head.

This was a silence even Kellin could not interrupt.

It is my silence and I just know that it is about to start.

Love,

Vic.