There is no great trauma in the history of Ryon Griffin that would have pushed him to the dark side, that would have turned a seemingly sweet boy on to the temptation of drugs, as a matter of fact his childhood was about as normal as they come. The youngest of three and the most troubled of the family, Ryon constantly had the attention on him at all times ever since he could walk, trouble was always in his name. By two years old he had been rushed to the hospital twice for eating rat poison which had been stored under the kitchen sink, both times under the watchful eye of an apparently neglectful babysitter. At nine he broke his arm two times for falling out of the same tree, never one to give up on a challenge or the dare by his eldest sibling that he could not reach the top. Despite his daredevil attitude and his penchant for dramatics, Ryon was a child surrounded by love. His father is a lawyer, his mother a high school teacher, both jobs which while time consuming, did give them both a chance to keep an eye on their troubled son throughout his rebellious stage.

He will never be one to blame his problems on his parents, they did the best that they could with a kid like him. A kid who regardless of what everyone around him says, has never been able to keep the dread out of his stomach, has never been able to convince himself that he is not as bad a person as his mind tells him he is. By the age of sixteen he was struggling with his own idea of happiness, he got good grades, had a ton of friends, played hockey, he surfed and skateboarded, he was a gifted painter and drawer, his teachers even told him so, as did his close friends and yet none of this made him feel as it was supposed, none of it made him feel good about himself, not even a little bit.

By Eighteen he fell in deep with a group of unseemly peers who really played hard on the peer pressure angle. It started out with drinking, some weed, eventually over time he was introduced to the harder stuff such as cocaine and, the one that would change his life , heroin. He was a classic believer of one time won't hurt, but became just as was expected, in no time he was a full fledged addict. He was able to hide his addiction from his friends and family for a surprising amount of time, knowing only to use it when he has no intention of going home till after everyone is asleep or seeing his friends that day at all. He spent a lot of time at his dealers place, becoming a close friend and yet not close enough for handouts, it would seem. As the monster grew within him, as the addiction tightened it's grip, he took to stealing from his parents, selling their electronics and using the money to feed his addiction, often times blaming it on misplacing, saying he left this on the bus or he loaned that to a friend who must have lost it. The lying became second nature, he even stole his sisters iphone and sold it for enough money to get him through a week. When he got in a fight with his dealer he would move on to another, people for a time, became disposable to him. In time he was in so deep that he stopped coming home, stopped returning phone calls, he would sleep all day and eventually, flunked out of high school, never even had a chance to apply to college, and to be honest he didn't even notice nor would he care if he did. He was taken over by the sickness and it would take a drastic event to bring him back home.

The wake up call everyone had been waiting for would come at twenty years old. It had been a week and a half since he returned any phone calls from his family or friends, he had been spending most of his time hanging out at a dive motel with some new friends he met a few weeks prior at a club which for some reason, did not bother carding him. It was late one night when everyone had passed out or gone home, Ryon took one more hit before curling up in a ball on the floor of the dirty room. Next thing he knew it was almost two days later, he was in a hospital and his friends and family were crying over him. When he was choerent enough to understand, they explained that he had overdosed that night in the motel and had one of the others not stepped in his vomit on her way to the bathroom, no one would have noticed and it could have been fatal. Now sober, seeing the terrified and heartbroken look on the faces of his loved ones, it didn't take much coaxing for him to agree to go to rehab and do whatever it would take to get his life back on track, he was sick of the way he had been feeling and admitted that he did need help.

Following a six month stint in rehab, he was still not yet ready to return home to the cozy life waiting for him in Huntington Beach, his parents understood this and agreed that he could spend a few months living in London with his uncle, whom he was incredibly close with. No one wanted him around the temptation or his old connections until he was sure he had the self control needed to not let them back in. He spent another six months in London, hanging with his uncle, speaking to doctors and getting himself back together. It would be a year total (rehab included) before he would be prepared to return back home, but finally a few months ago he felt that he was strong enough to face his own demons and get his old life back. At least that is what he has told himself.