During My Divorce, My Family Chose My Husband,So I Let Them

3: 3

When I came to, the back of my neck was still throbbing.

Only Godfrey and Vanessa sat at the edge of the bed.

Seeing my eyes open, Godfrey tucked the blanket in around me.

"Jemima, I've thought it over. I'm not going to divorce you."

"Making Vanessa live her whole life with no name, no title beside me. That's the punishment I'm giving her."

Vanessa didn't refuse it.

"Jemima, don't pity me. I deserve all of this."

"It's my fault for hoping for what I couldn't have, for falling in love with another woman's man."

Hands joined, the two of them discussed how they would punish each other.

How funny.

I wanted to curse at them, but all that came out was a muffled whimper.

That was when I realized I was strapped down hard to the hospital bed, a bite guard forced into my mouth.

Godfrey stroked my forehead, his voice gentle.

"You've been too worked up lately."

"I have no choice but to send you here, to a psychiatric hospital, for treatment."

"Once your moods settle and you stop hurting the people who love you, I'll bring you home."

The people who love me?

The ones who tricked me into marriage, killed my baby, and then worked together to lock me up in here?

I closed my eyes, refusing to look at them any longer.

Godfrey spoke as if it pained him.

"Don't worry. I won't let everyone turn their backs on you."

Over the next few days, they brought Malcolm in every day.

Vanessa pushed the boy up to my bedside.

"Say hi to Mommy."

Malcolm called out the word, sullen and unwilling.

Godfrey looked at me tenderly.

"He has your baby's blood in his body."

"Just tell yourself your own child is still alive. Isn't that better?"

Malcolm started singing that there's no one in the world like Mommy.

I thrashed in a rage, the bed frame rattling and banging.

Godfrey pressed the call button.

"Doctor, she's having another episode."

"Increase the dosage a little more."

I tried to explain to the doctor that there was nothing wrong with me.

Instead, the doctor took out a stack of papers.

On top was the involuntary commitment consent form, signed by my parents and my brother.

Behind it was a video my best friend had recorded.

In the video she was crying so hard she could barely breathe.

"Jemima's gotten more and more violent since the shock she went through."

"She doesn't just hit me. She's tried to hurt the child too."

"Please, you have to cure her."

The dosage grew larger by the day.

My hands began to shake, and my mind grew slower and slower.

Even when Malcolm, while Godfrey was gone, ran up to my bed and spat at me.

Called me a "wicked old witch who deserved to have her kid die."

I couldn't stir up a single ripple in myself anymore.

Godfrey, though, decided I was better.

On my birthday, he took me out of the hospital.

My parents, my brother, and my best friend gathered around the dining table, gifts they'd carefully prepared laid out on top.

My mother held a dress up against me.

"This used to be your favorite brand."

My best friend set the newest handbag in my arms.

"I stood in line two days to get this. Surely you can forgive me now?"

My father frowned and pressed me.

"Everyone's trying to cheer you up. Don't ruin the mood."

They put a birthday hat on me and sang around me.

My brother cut the first slice of cake and brought it to my mouth with his own hand.

The cream went in, and I couldn't taste the sweetness.

Even swallowing had become hard.

"Good, isn't it?"

My mother asked, expectant.

I couldn't taste it.

Those drugs had long since taken my sense of taste.

Before I could even shake my head.

My brother slammed the rest of the cake into me, hard.

Cream and fruit smeared all over my face.

He jabbed a finger at me and roared.

"Jemima Fox, what in the world do you still have to complain about!"

"We didn't even claim Vanessa, all for your sake! Are you only happy once you've driven her to her death?"