The cure was supposed to save her mother. It gave her something else entirely.

When tragedy strikes, we search for answers. But sometimes the answers are more terrifying than the crime.

One year after the Galleria Massacre, society is still reeling from the wave of clown killings. Luminhale—the miracle drug promised to ease depression—claims no responsibility. They insist it's correlation, not causation.

Jamie Fisher knows better. She's seen the statistics. She's seen the aftermath. And tonight, she's about to see what the side effects really look like.

Because sometimes the real horror isn't a virus, a monster, or a maniac in a clown suit. Sometimes it's the cure itself.

Fans of psychological dread, corporate horror, and slow-burn terror will find much to fear in this chilling standalone story.