Dramatic Child Stars

Twenty-Five

Trigger warning for discussion of child sexual abuse and graphic suicide.
__________________________

Ryland,
July 28, 2021,
11:01 am.

I could provide exact details on what I'm actually doing right now, but it would be boring. It isn't quiet, but it's not loud. It's more like a mumble if anything. It's like I can hear people outside the door, but my ears are ringing so I don't know what they're saying and I don't really care to know either. The room is dark. I don't mean it's dark as in it's dark outside and all I see are shadows. It's dark as if the windows were literally blocked out. It's pitch black. The only reason I knew the windows existed at all was because I felt along the wall until I found a windowsill. The cool surface of the glass was telling. The door has something shoved under it to block out light too.

There was nothing visible. I couldn't see anything; not even my own hand held up infront of my own face.

I was told to sit in here quietly. It was an opportunity to try and remember where it was. Since that memory doesn't exist in my brain at the moment, I have been functionally bored for quite a while. This entire thing is boring. There is nothing of note happening. They quit hitting me a while ago and now I have been lacking excitement of any kind since.

I was also in severe pain. I was pretty sure I was bleeding. My brain was fuzzy, but I did recall my head hitting the ground very hard, and when that happened I tasted blood. I was almost certain that blood was what caused that coppery taste.

Sorting through memories is maybe helpful though. Maybe it's a good time to process things. I'm probably going to die in a pitch black room. Not much could make that worse. If I can't find the memories they want, I can at least look at what I know I have.

The first actual acting job I remember doing well was a commercial for cereal. I was young, so I don't remember what type of cereal. I just remember the green screen and the cereal part, and that when I was saying my line, everybody looked excited. I was a cute kid. I can admit that looking back, and I can tell why people liked me in that way. Cute kids sell things.

I also remember the cereal thing really well because I was only 6, and I met Darnell Chapman about four days later.

I don't remember how my mother met him. I just know that she was really excited about it. She acted like someone had just offered her a bunch of money, and in a far off and indirect sort of way, someone had technically done that. Darnell had promised her that he could change our lives, and she believed him full heartedly. She told me that he wanted to meet me. I needed to be on my best behavior. She told me it was going to be a big deal and that I needed to really listen to him.

I think we met him at an indoor playground. Bryn was at school. I'd already started "homeschooling." I'd never been to one of those before, but she'd always promised to take me to one since I didn't get recess like regular kids. Darnell wanted to watch how I acted around other kids when left to my own devices, and I wanted to watch Darnell because I thought it was odd that he sat so close to my mom. The two of us made eye contact often in a very suspicious dance of quick glances and averted eyes when we realized the other was watching.

I think Darnell probably learned that day that I didn't really play well with other kids. I was socially dumb and inexperienced. I carried myself like I was different than them, older or simply living in a world with different expectations. Kids didn't want to shake my hand, but adults on movie sets always shook my hand. I didn't understand why kids didn't do that.

In juxtaposition, I learned that day that Darnell looked at me in a way that was slightly different from how other adults looked at me. It was calculating and impressed. He was impressed by me somehow, and he wasn't put off by my inability to socialize with other kids. He treated it like a strength. He shook my hand. He eyed me up and down like he saw the future carved into my chest.