Chapter 3

That night, a video shot to the top of the local trending feeds.

In it, I moved step by step toward my daughter's bed, a fruit knife raised in my hand.

She was sobbing her heart out, and I didn't so much as flinch.

Neil held up his phone and read me the cruel comments word by word.

"Just admit you had an episode, and I'll have the video taken down."

"If you don't, this only gets worse. Do you really think you'll ever have a normal life after this?"

I heard what he was really saying.

His condition came down to one thing.

I had to admit I was sick, that I'd hurt my daughter, and give up control of everything in my name.

Otherwise, he'd file for a forensic evaluation and lock me in the closed ward.

He reached the door, then stopped.

"By the way, Ninny just asked me if her mommy doesn't want her anymore."

Late that night, the nurse came again with my medication.

She set the little cup down by the bed and lowered her voice.

"This isn't what you were prescribed today."

I looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"This one isn't on your original prescription."

Her fingers were trembling. "Someone must have changed your orders."

I looked at the cup and didn't move.

She bit her lip, then pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket.

"I found this in the archive room. It's all I can do."

A keycard beeped at the door, and she slipped the paper back into her pocket, acting as if nothing had happened.

Director James passed down the corridor with two doctors.

He didn't come into the room, just paused at the doorway for a second.

It was a short look, but not the way you'd look at an ordinary patient.

The next day, Neil showed up again with his lawyer.

This time, he brought our daughter.

She stood by the door, hugging that stuffed rabbit, staring at me with pleading eyes.

Neil laid the agreement on the table. "Sign it, and I'll get you discharged right away."

I looked at the document and still didn't move.

"Yesterday you said temporary management. How did it turn into a full transfer today?"

The lawyer pushed his glasses up.

"Ms. Dickerson, this is to keep you from harming your family again."

"You are currently not capable of managing your own assets."

The disinfectant smell in the room was sharp. The mother-in-law stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the agreement like it was an inheritance already carved up.

"Your mother was wrong to hand those shares to you in the first place. A woman can't hold on to a business. Give it to your husband, and at least it stays with us Dickersons!"

I understood then. They weren't waiting for me to get well. They were waiting for the moment my thumbprint went down on that paper.

Neil sat down beside our daughter.

"Ninny, tell your mommy. Once she signs, we can all go home."

She looked at me and hesitated.

"Mommy, just sign it. Daddy said if you sign, they won't lock you up anymore."

"Do you really want me to sign?"

She nodded.

"You scare me. When you held the knife, I was really scared."

Neil's hands closed on her shoulders at once.

"That's enough. Your mommy is sick now."

Then he turned to look at me.

"See? Even the child knows you need treatment."

I looked down at the agreement. Neil put the pen in my hand.

"Sign it. Don't let Ninny watch you lose your mind again."

I took the pen, and my daughter took a step back without thinking.

Neil smiled, satisfied.

"That's better."

The nib touched the paper.

But I didn't write my name. In the signature line, I scrawled a string of letters that meant nothing at all.

Neil frowned.

"What did you write?"

"My name."

"You don't even know your own name?"

I set the pen down.

"Didn't you say I was crazy?"

"Can a crazy woman's signature hold up in court?"

The lawyer's face changed.

Neil shot to his feet and slammed the document down in front of me.

"You're playing me?"

"You're the one who said I'm not competent."

"So what gives you the right to take anything I sign?"

My daughter stared at me, dazed.

Neil watched me like it was the first time he'd realized I wasn't as easy to control as he'd thought.

But soon enough he smiled again.

"How long do you think you can keep talking tough?" I've already filed for guardianship. Someone's coming to evaluate you tomorrow."

"And then every word you say will turn into a new symptom in your file."

He took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Get the evaluation materials ready. Especially the records of her past episodes, every last one."

The person on the other end hesitated.

"But she doesn't have any prior treatment records."

Neil glanced at me, and his voice went cold all at once.

"If there aren't any, then make some."