Tragically Inadequate

Meg Kissinger: Martha Wilson trudged up the hill, sick with worry, arms pumping, head down, too distracted to notice the brilliant April sun rising over Lake Michigan. It was Richard.

Her son wasn't taking his medicine. He didn't like how it made him feel thick-headed and spacey.

At first, Martha and her husband, Jeff, thought their son's brooding and his drastic mood swings were just typical teenage angst. All teenagers lash out from time to time.

Then Richard started mumbling, talking about curses and bizarre plots. He thought his grandfather's real estate business was a front for a drug operation and that his family was under some kind of spell dating back 127 years. He heard voices.

Stop him. Stop him.