Declared Dead By My Family, I Returned From Hell

After being discharged from the psychiatric hospital, I became a designated driver.

I never imagined that tonight’s passengers would turn out to be my younger sister, Trisha Golding, and my ex-wife, Celeste Sheridan.

When the car door swung open, a familiar scent rushed in. Expensive perfume mixed with the sharp bite of alcohol.

In the back seat, the two of them chatted casually about corporate acquisitions and ski trips in Switzerland. Their voices were light and carefree, as though the world had never known trouble.

My throat suddenly went dry.

Before I could stop myself, I coughed.