High voltage

It is late, past midnight, and I pace the house, alone with my thoughts. There is a tap at the back door. The LTLP is in tears. We haven't spoken for a few days, deciding to keep our distance after our joint fall from grace. I comfort her sobs as best I can and usher her into the kitchen. After several moments, she stops crying just long enough to tell me what has happened.

"He has tried...to...electrocute me," she says. "The sink...live...20,000 volts."

It is then she shows me her palms. They are red-raw.

I dress her wounds as gently as I can.