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Some stories don’t begin with loud explosions or dramatic twists. Some begin quietly — with a child holding onto the last promise his mother ever made.
My name is Ryan, I’m 19, and this is the story of how everything I thought was safe, everything I thought was mine, was taken from me… and how life eventually took care of the people who thought I was too small to matter.
I’ve never posted something this personal before. But I’m angry. And tired. And the whole truth needs to…
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