(Jackson)

The mansion was still and silent the next morning, as though the building itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next explosion; the shattered glass from the previous night had been swept away by the housekeepers but the damage to the family remained raw and bleeding and impossible to ignore.

Jackson sat in his study, the door locked, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk in front of him; he hadn't slept, hadn't changed his clothes, hadn't done anything except sit ...