I Returned For Thanksgiving To Find My Parents Gone—And My Father Waiting

I sniffed it carefully.

Nothing. Morphine has a distinct bitter, chemical smell. This had no smell at all.

I hesitated, then put a tiny drop on the tip of my tongue—just enough to taste.

Water. Plain tap water.

I stared at the bottle in horror, my hands beginning to shake with a new kind of fury.

“Victor,” I said slowly, my voice trembling with barely controlled continue reading …