Back From The Grave For My Daughter

dining room-a supposedly normal dinner with my wife,

the deal for my brewery, signal

ifferently, vividly, a horrific déjà v

piraled into a nightmare where my daughter,

r, screaming accusations that chilled m

es cold and calculating, while my father, Richard,

ng victim, universally condemn

trayal by those closest to me, had fe

laborate, cruel lie, especially

ly orchestrate such a

exact, horrifying moment, the jagged neck

no more playing the fool-th

, Lily wo