Jimmy paced around the room, his hands flexing at his sides. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong about this whole thing, but his gut wouldn’t stop screaming that something was off.

“Would you relax? It’s all going to be fine,” Monica said to her son as she twisted her hair into a bun. Her tone was calm, but the twitch in her fingers and the restless flick of her eyes told another story. Lately, she’d been feeling half-insane—everywhere she turned, she thought she saw faces from her past. Faces that were supposed to be dead… or that she had wished were dead.

“You need to relax. Everything will go...