A dark caption.

Alan looked at Melissa, or at least what appeared to be Melissa. She stood there, smiling, leaning in and laughing at him. A strange, unsettling laugh, like something someone who had just gotten away with something, devoid of mirth or joy.

He found himself wanting to run away, but could not bring himself to do so. He saw the staples in her forehead, and that cut looked deep. Hell, he thought, that looked like some Frankenstein's monster nonsense right there, like something out of a pulp comic or a bad sci-fi film. The problem here was that all this wasn't on a television screen or on the pages of a comic, it was his wife stranding right in front of him!

She put her hands on her back, her smile getting larger and more unnerving, her laugh getting deeper despite her high voice, her posture seemingly defiant with an odd ease to it.

Finally, Melissa, or whoever was in her head, spoke. He could tell how she talked now that whoever's brain was in her head now, it used to be a man.

"You fool, Alan." The not-Melissa started. "You pathetic, stupid fool. Did you think you could escape from me? Did you think you had seen the last of me? Well, you might have seen the last of my body, but me, Alan, I'm still around and I'll be with you until death do you part!"