“Please,” Elizabeth whispered, sinking into a chair. “Please, please, please stop.” She nestled her daughter in the crook of her arm, nudged the bottle’s nipple against her doll lips, and although she’d refused it five times before, the little thing latched on voraciously as if she knew her ignorant mother would get there in the end. Elizabeth held her breath as if the smallest intake of air might cause the thing to go off again. The baby was a ticking time bomb. One false move and it was over. Dr. Mason had warned her that infants were hard work, but this wasn’t work: it was indenture. The
...more
