I could hear the officer typing as Amy described being forced to feed the newborn water with a spoon because they refused to let her breastfeed.
“When I told them that babies don’t drink water, your mother slapped me so hard I saw stars,” she said, her voice shaking.
I stood up so fast the chair tipped over backward, but the doctor put a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“Yesterday I tried to pack a bag and leave, but Karen grabbed my wrists and held me down while your mother tied my hands with a shawl, telling me that if I made even a sound, she would tell the police I had suffered a mental breakdown and was unfit to be a mother.”
I could taste blood in my mouth from biting my tongue so hard to stop myself from exploding.
“They were giving me some kind of pills,” Amy continued, “I don’t know what they were, but every time I woke up, I’d hear Sam crying, and I was so weak I couldn’t move my arms to get to him.”
I leaned down and pressed my forehead against her hand, weeping.
“I left you alone with them, I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
“No, Mark, you trusted them, that’s not the same thing.”
But I knew that to her, the result was the same.
The officer asked the question that had been haunting me.
“Why would they do this to you?”
Amy closed her eyes, letting out a heavy, painful breath.
“It was about the house,” she whispered.
I felt the room tilt sideways.
