The Perfect Child

by Lucinda Berry

I hurt for Hannah. This day meant so much to her, and Janie had ruined it.

Janie was reverting back to behavior we hadn’t seen in months.

Elodie was genuinely afraid of Janie.”

“She said she wanted to make Elodie cry. When I asked her why she wanted to make her cry, she said that she likes to see what people look like when they cry.”

She’s just struggling right now, and I want to help her rather than punish her.

All we ever say is that we want her to be treated like a normal child. You can’t have it both ways, Christopher.”

My heart swelled like it did every time she got excited. I loved experiencing the world through her eyes.

charming and delightful their children are in public.” I couldn’t help but think of all the times Hannah had said that Janie was different when she had an audience.

This was more than a bump in the road. It was a sinkhole.

My feelings stemmed from the deepest parts of me. He wasn’t a stranger in my arms—it was like a missing piece of myself had been returned.

I wasn’t used to her being so narrow minded since she was usually so diligent about researching all sides of an issue.

She hadn’t always been so traditional, but staying home and bonding with her children during those first few months had been a dream of hers since she was a little girl, and she refused to let it go.

I’d never seen her so unsettled.

“It’s okay, Mommy.” She picked up one of the green toys and handed it to me. “Mommies always yell.”

I believed it. There was nothing wrong with Janie discovering her parents were human and made mistakes.

Things grew worse instead of better every day, and I’d never felt more powerless.

wondering how someone who looked so sweet could do something so awful.

There was something about having her in the house again that sucked the air out of the room.

“She stuck her tongue out at me and said she wished she had a different mommy. I’m tired of pretending like she’s ever going to like me. That girl hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you.” It broke my heart to hear her talk about Janie that way.

She was just a damaged girl—a severely disturbed girl, too, but she wasn’t a sociopath.

But nothing was fine. We both knew that.

“She’s our daughter. Where else is she supposed to go?” “She’s not really our daughter.”

“You can’t just give your kids away when it’s rough.” “You can if your kid is a monster.”

She said she was done going to therapy because Janie was never going to change, and she was sick of talking about it. She’d come around eventually. She just needed a few more days.

An overwhelming sense of defeat washed over me. Sending her away felt like we’d failed

“It just feels like we’re giving up on her.”

Did you ever think that’s why her mother had to lock her up like an animal? It’s because she is one!”

It was what I taught perpetrators in all of my domestic violence education classes.

I would never look at myself the same way, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, even though I knew it was the right thing to do.

“Get away from her! Get away! She’ll infect you with her evil. It’s everywhere. Her evil is everywhere.”

It was all there, written down in black and white. I didn’t know why the words had to come out of my mouth.

If only Hannah would talk. She held all the answers, but she still wasn’t making sense or acting right.

She’d disappeared somewhere inside herself, and I couldn’t reach her. Nobody could.

“How did Cole get hurt?” Hannah’s hands trembled. Something registered on her face, passed through her—a memory—and then it was gone.

My mind told my body to speak the words, but it refused. The connection between the two was unplugged, severed. Parts had folded into blackness and created a void.

He was never supposed to get hurt.

“It says here that your colleagues expressed concern that you were too close to this case. That there were important signs you could’ve missed.

There was no way I was leaving her alone with either of the kids. Not until she was better.

you had to be restrained and sedated for your own safety.

I didn’t care that most of my view was blocked by the building across the sidewalk because I could see the sky, and there was hope as long as I could see the sky.

I’d mentally walked through every possible danger, each one a graphic novel in my head. I hadn’t trusted anyone to keep him safe, not even Christopher.

They told me there was nothing I could have done to stop or prevent it and assured me it resulted from a combination of biological factors beyond my control—my sleep deprivation, dramatic hormone shift, and genetic predisposition—but I knew I was still responsible for what I’d done.

I had tried to drown Janie.

Janie would’ve hurt Cole if she ever got the chance. That part was never delusional, and I don’t care how much medication you put me on; I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You were here before?” she asked. I nodded. “Yes. You were pretty out of it.” “I hate the drugs. You know how I feel about drugs.”

Her voice trembled as she spoke. “I am more than sick. I tried to kill a child. Don’t try to make this better for me.”

I remembered my first few entries, but most of it was like reading a story about someone else. It was hard to believe it was me.

Even though Hannah had confessed to hurting Janie and Cole, the Department of Children’s Services treated me like I was a criminal, too, as if I’d been in on some conspiracy with her.

She scares me, Chris. She really does. I’m afraid she’s going to do something awful to my boys.

know my sister, and that girl is what drove her crazy, and I’m not going to have the same thing happen to me. I was horrified when I found out what Hannah did. I couldn’t even imagine it. But you know what? Now I can.