Hello lovelies. Crazy night last night – so what to write about. A friend of ours, our girlfriend’s brother hung himself in our very late teen years. We weren’t prepared for what we saw, smelled and did. It was one of the worst experiences of our lives. We were forced to do things that we really didn’t want to do. Let’s talk about it. Anyone who knows the midwest in the summer, knows how horribly hot it can get. Ryan hung himself in an attic, right next to his sister room one night. Our adoptive father got word of the suicide and told me what was happening. At this point in our lives, we were really ill.
Post kidnapping horror had already occurred a few times before and we had already lost Isabel to suicide, pre-kidnapping as well. We miss her so much and we never forgot the rollercoaster ride with her – her hand. Her heart rending smile. Her loss is still deeply felt. So suicide was something and is something that we are intimately involved with.
Ryan hung in his attic for a WEEK in Midwest heat and humidity.. His other sister found his body, still hanging, with what we were told, his eyes hanging out of his head. I know what that woman saw because I have seen it before. His distraught parents forced me into that house, soon after his body was removed by the police, or, whoever. (<–Fight club echo)
The house had to be cleaned and for some reason, Ryan’s father wanted all of us to witness this gore, we don’t know why. To teach a hard lesson to us stupid kids? To be a prick? Because he was distraught? All of the above? We don’t know but we wanted to be anywhere else but there. Can’t escape the tears we know are coming as we write this. There has only been other time we wrote about this.
The entire house was filled with millions if not tens of millions of dead, half dead and still buzzing flies. Ryan’s family and friends were sweeping massive piles of flies into trash bags and so forth. You couldn’t see floor, just a black layer of dead insects. We could hear and feel flies crunching under our shoes. We have never been (And currently are) so scared in our lives. We wish we had someone to hug right now.
When you smell death of a human, you never forget it. You never forget it. Add the heat and humidity of an old, wood house without AC in July and the rot of a human body and it’s, awful. Eventually, we just stopped breathing through our nose.
The smell was making our stomach roll over. I couldn’t cry out, I couldn’t cry…we couldn’t stop screaming at the top of our lungs, silently. Didn’t know what to do.
That’s when Ryan’s father asked us to go upstairs with him. It wasn’t a question though, more of statement. Ryan’s father was a terrifying man. You do you exactly what he says. So, we started to climb the stairs. It got hotter, sweatier, stickier. The taste of death actually on our tongues. It has a texture and it’s a sweet taste. It’s rolling our stomach right now.
We got to the top of the stairs and the smell was simply unbearable. We are crying now perhaps because we couldn’t cry then, for what was happening. Ryan’s father didn’t remove the electrical cord Ryan used to hang himself. We wanted to run far away and I’m sure Katy wanted to find the first tree she could. We were so sickened by the sights and the smells. Our girlfriend was in shock. Everyone was in shock.
We couldn’t take it anymore. We had to get fresh air. We remember whimpering, kind of, on our way down those awful, midwest confining, claustrophobic stair wells. I remember hearing people opening windows upstairs. By the time we finally got outside, another one of Ryan’s distant relatives was already throwing up in the grass/foliage. We just…we just sat down in the grass.
We were asked, of course, to help clean the house. We didn’t want to. We would have rather been anywhere else than there. We can’t say “no” when someone asks for our help and we knew it was the right thing to do. I was asked to clean up the upstairs room (Of course) where Ryan killed himself. We really didn’t want do it.
We were given a bucket with some water and a sponge. We remember crying out, under our breath “I just want to go home, please I need to go home”…over and over. I’m pretty sure it was Katy, who had suffered during that kidnapping as well. She holds trauma very well but is very, very, very easily overwhelmed.
After we swept up the flies we started scrubbing the walls. It was just awful. The texture, that stickiness of the rot of death sticks onto everything. When you start to scrub the walls, it just makes the walls slick and slimey for a bit and the smell gets even worse. We weren’t even on Earth anymore. We were somewhere else, we had to be somewhere else. Rinse, wash, hold on to stomach, repeat.
The walls, as it turns out was soaked in Ryan’s blood and gore – unbeknownst to us. We remember asking a technician in the house what exactly were the millions of black dots all over the walls and floors.
Without missing a beat the tech said “Well, the fumigant we use kills the flies.” “The flies throw up everything in their guts and they die”. “They were feeding on the body, that’s what you’re cleaning up”. That’s when we dropped the sponge.
I know all of us, Mark, Mike and Katy were way beyond shock after that. We were covered in Ryan’s blood and guts. We don’t have the words right now, to describe what we felt. Violated, angry, scared, frightened, sickened, ashamed. The whole gambit. That’s when we said “Enough is enough”, and stopped cleaning. We had to get out of that house. We did the best we could, given the circumstances – we could have done a better job.
One of the worst experiences of our lives. When reality comes back in, just like this, after a split:
You have memories like these that surface from time to time. We want to write about them and share them. The truth of our lives was suppressed and hidden with torture, rape and kidnapping. To share our lives with you, in hopes that we might help is the answer to that suppression.
For those of you who are wondering what it would look like after you killed yourself, consider the above, carefully.
M and K