The bones in my wrists felt like they were being ground to dust, but that pain didn't amount to a fraction of what was tearing through my chest.
I looked at Ida with bloodshot eyes, my voice raw. "I know everything, Ida."
Her pupils contracted for a split second before her expression smoothed over.
"Ida, I'm begging you!" The words ripped from my throat. "Give me back my child!"
Seeing my reddened eyes, she pressed her lips together, seeming about to say something—
Humphrey cut in. "Ida, I think he's having some kind of psychotic episode. I understand he's grieving, but the baby is gone. You know that."
I snapped my head toward Humphrey. My mouth opened, but before a single word could leave it, I heard the coldest sentence I had ever heard in my life.
"Take him to the psychiatric ward for an evaluation. I won't have him making a spectacle out here."
I fought with everything I had, screaming at their retreating backs.
"I'm not crazy! You're the ones who are insane—"
The hospital's assessment came back quickly. I was "diagnosed" with a dissociative disorder.
Ida wasted no time arranging my admission for inpatient treatment and assigned extra personnel to "look after" me.