My name is Ryan Thorne. I was sitting on the cold hospital floor, cradling my son Leo' s lifeless body. He was gone. Killed by a monstrous "therapy" in a sensory deprivation tank. His wide, terrified eyes stared blankly, a permanent mask of horror. On the TV screen, my ex-fiancée, Sophia Hayes, was marrying a man who looked exactly like me: Ryan Thorne. But he wasn't me. He was the imposter, the man Sophia told me was my brother. A searing pain shot through my head, not from the forgotten car crash, but from memories flooding back. My name isn't Ethan Miller. It's Ryan Thorne. The real Ryan Thorne. The man on that screen had stolen my name, my face, my entire life. Five years ago, after the crash, Sophia convinced me I was "Ethan Miller," an architect who needed a kidney. She pointed to the imposter, my long-lost brother, a perfect match for my supposed kidney failure. I gave him my kidney, my identity, my inheritance. Everything. Leo, my sweet, sensitive boy, was the only real thing in that fabricated life. He overheard Sophia and the imposter laughing about their cruel deception. The man he adored wasn't his father. Shattered, Leo collapsed. Sophia, knowing his claustrophobia, locked him in the tank for "therapy." "Dad help. Scared. Dark." His last text. I found Sophia outside, watching her clock. "My son shouldn't be weak and afraid. He needs to get over his issues. Besides, how could therapy kill anyone?" she'd said. I broke in, but it was too late. Leo was gone. Now, as I held him, the full truth crashed down. "Mom," I said, dialing a number I hadn't called in five years. "It's Ryan." "I remember everything," I continued, my gaze fixed on the laughing faces on the TV. "It's time for me to leave." They took my life. They took my son. I would take it all back.
My name is Ryan Thorne. I was sitting on the cold hospital floor, cradling my son Leo' s lifeless body.
He was gone.
Killed by a monstrous "therapy" in a sensory deprivation tank.
His wide, terrified eyes stared blankly, a permanent mask of horror.
On the TV screen, my ex-fiancée, Sophia Hayes, was marrying a man who looked exactly like me: Ryan Thorne.
But he wasn't me. He was the imposter, the man Sophia told me was my brother.
A searing pain shot through my head, not from the forgotten car crash, but from memories flooding back.
My name isn't Ethan Miller. It's Ryan Thorne. The real Ryan Thorne.
The man on that screen had stolen my name, my face, my entire life.
Five years ago, after the crash, Sophia convinced me I was "Ethan Miller," an architect who needed a kidney.
She pointed to the imposter, my long-lost brother, a perfect match for my supposed kidney failure.
I gave him my kidney, my identity, my inheritance. Everything.
Leo, my sweet, sensitive boy, was the only real thing in that fabricated life.
He overheard Sophia and the imposter laughing about their cruel deception.
The man he adored wasn't his father.
Shattered, Leo collapsed. Sophia, knowing his claustrophobia, locked him in the tank for "therapy."
"Dad help. Scared. Dark." His last text.
I found Sophia outside, watching her clock.
"My son shouldn't be weak and afraid. He needs to get over his issues. Besides, how could therapy kill anyone?" she'd said.
I broke in, but it was too late. Leo was gone.
Now, as I held him, the full truth crashed down.
"Mom," I said, dialing a number I hadn't called in five years. "It's Ryan."
"I remember everything," I continued, my gaze fixed on the laughing faces on the TV. "It's time for me to leave."
They took my life. They took my son. I would take it all back.
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