Chapter 17

Although he hadn’t told anyone else about it, Jackson was still suffering from nightmares about his late wife. Every night it was the same. They would be at home, his wife busily cooking dinner in their homey little kitchen, savory scents floating around the room when she would turn around to reveal a shredded mess of a face. That’s when his subconscious would remember that she was dead and that the baby he heard crying in the other room wasn’t real.

Jackson awoke in a cold sweat to the soft glow of an alarm clock on his bedside table. It was 3:45 am. Frustration spread like