Every morning, the nursery camera signal dropped while my mother cared for my sick wife. Suspecting something, I hid a secondary camera in the room. When I checked the feed the next day, I saw my mother standing over my wife, holding a syringe, and whispering, “This is for your own good…”

meals to rebuild her shattered strength.

Instead of a sanctuary, however, I brought her home to the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Chapter Three: The Trojan Horse in Arkansas Lace

The phone call had come the afternoon prior to Abigail’s discharge.

“Kenneth, my sweet boy, you cannot possibly shoulder this immense burden all by yourself,” my mother’s voice cooed continue reading …