The O'Sullivan Farm
I- Keenan Theodoros Sullivan Fifth. I'm writing this to shed light on why about to do when I'm about to do. By the time you find this. It'll be too late for spoken words. Unfortunately, these written words will have to suffice. And I need you to pass my reasons onto my parents. I wish I could say I'm sorry for doing this. I know it will only cause more pain for some. But I am not. No one deserves my fate. More than I do. And I doubt there are many people out there. Who will disagree? With, me on that I have been sitting in this jail cell for three months now. And in that time. My head is cleared enough for me to realize just exactly what it is that I have done. I. Know I'm taking the easy way out. And that I deserve to rock in a cell for the rest of what no doubt would be a long miserable life. But the truth is I just can't live with myself anymore. If I could live with what I've done. Then, I would be a true psychopath and I am not. I'm just not. You could probably care less about my background. But. For the purpose of prolonging the inevitable I'm going to tell you. I was born and raised on a fairly successful wheat farm. and. When I say successful. I mean, we were able to sustain a living and support ourselves entirely on the profits from the farm. We could afford some of the finer things in life. I never really knew what it was like to be truly miserable. That is until now. Our farmhouse was a seven bedroom Victorian the my great great grandfather built in eighteen ninety one in Valley County of cops, Hill. I was immensely proud of that, house. But at the same time, I was deathly afraid of. The portraits of our long deceased ancestors. Dating all the way back to those who lived on the shores of Ireland. Pepper. The walls of most of the rooms in our house. As a child. I always imagined that the eyes of those portraits were watching every move I made. I was always on my best behavior when walking down the hallways. Because I had in my head that my great grandfather's would climb down from their nails to punish me in some terrible and ghostly way if I stepped one toll out of line. I would like to say that my anxiety over set diminished as I grew older. But. I'm not entirely sure that is the truth. Especially, in light of recent events. The majority of the portraits were decisively mail. For I am from a long line of only sons. My grandfather was the only son of an only son. My father had no siblings a neither to die. Being there were only my mother father and I in the House as I grew up for the seven bedrooms are completely void of life. To be specific, the only items filled those rooms where the old black and white portraits of my ancient family members. And some decorative furniture to keep up appearances. And like I said before. Those pictures terrified me. No matter what I did I could never escape their stairs. I avoided the lifeless rooms as much as possible. But to my despair. My grandfather who passed away a number of years ago. was obsessed with tracing our family history back as far as he possibly could to the shores of Ireland. Needless to say, there were plenty of portraits to go around. To make matters worse. I was a rock fan. And imitating idols of the time I play guitar needing some space to silence my music. I opted for the only room remotely hidden from the view of debt is. Show. It was that the tiny concrete storage room adjoining the salary became the only place where I could practice piece. In all the house made for a suffocating experience and I longed for the day when the deceased would finally be exhumed from the walls. However even after my grandfather died. My father didn't have the heart to take the portraits down. So on the walls they remained. US later my father passed the farm onto me when he and mom decided they wanted to retire my parents had me in their late thirties. So I got the farm at a fairly young age. When I was twenty nine I met my wife after a concert at the county fair. Choose a beautiful young thing only twenty two at the time. But despite the age difference. I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. I'd always been the client type. But I surprised myself by walking right up to her and asking her to see a movie with me the following night. Within six months we were engaged. And six months later. We were married. On the first anniversary of the day we met. Nine months later, our baby can and she shocked us all. That's right. I said she. A little girl renamed Ashley. Ashley is an old Irish name meaning a vision or dream. We picked that name because we never dreamed. Girl she was supposed to be a boy. We had no family tradition female names because. They're usually no females born into the family. All the females married into our family live for their names were rarely if ever repeated. When my father and mother moved Florida the next year there again, only three of us in the enormous house. Everything is wonderful for the first three years of Ashton's life. She grew up as any normal child childhood past all the milestones with flying colors. She was walking by nine months and speaking comprehensible phrases by year and a half. Life was perfect and I couldn't imagine it any other way. I stated before the farm was a wheat farm. And as I said, we did well by having contracts with three major Brett companies in the United States and some smaller local contracts like most large farms we use pesticides we had to. One year, we did a Beta test on a section of our crop to see how much of it would survive without using pesticides. Ten percent. How much of the crop survived in the Beta section of field. Did you imagine what have happened to us if we tried that their entire crop. We would have lost our shirts and then some. Looking back now. Kinda wish we would have.