I screamed, thrashing across the floor as my body seized, and felt my baby leave me right there on the tile.
When Bernice heard the sirens, she poured what was left in the bottle over her own face.
Blood ran down her cheeks as the flesh bubbled and hissed, and she was still smiling.
"Millie, you only lost a baby. Me? I lost my whole face."
"So tell me—who do you think he'll feel sorry for?"
When I woke again, the hospital room was empty.
I lay there a long time before I finally signed the papers dropping the charges.
She was young, and she was mentally ill. I had no intention of pressing charges. I just never wanted to see her again.
But when I found my way to Bernice's ward, I heard her voice through the door—that syrupy, little-girl whine she saved for him.
"Professor Baxter, I only got hurt because of your wife, you know. So you have to look after me for the rest of my life, okay?"
And my husband didn't even pause.
"Of course I will. As long as you still trust me."
Of course Bernice trusted him. I was the one who didn't—not anymore, not ever again.
Just then, Captain Carter pushed the door open.
"Professor Baxter, no one else has been in or out of your house."