CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
In the months since she had been found mentally incompetent to stand trial and was committed to a psychiatric hospital, Mallory thought of Sky every day. He was present in her dreams, and she told anyone who would listen that he was coming for her and that they were going to be married after their baby was born.
When she wasn’t receiving counseling, she spent most of her waking hours in the dayroom of the hospital watching television with the other patients. She preferred to watch entertainment or gossip shows, but in the mid-day hours the television was tuned to soap operas, which she found boring and hard to follow.
As her pregnancy was coming to an end, she felt tired more often. She was dozing in the day room when she felt a tug on her arm. She yawned, and asked, “What?”
The female guard answered, “Time to go.”
“Go where?” Mallory rubbed her distended belly, and struggled to get up from the chair.
The guard pulled her down the hallway. “Doctor’s appointment. Time for your check up.”
Mallory’s eyes grew wide. “Is Sky coming this time? I know he’d want to be here to see how the baby is doing.” When the guard didn’t answer her, she repeated, “Is Sky coming? The baby is going to be here soon.”
The guard ignored Mallory’s repeated questions, and loaded her into the psychiatric hospital’s van. “We’ll be there in a little while,” she said.
“Where are we going?” When they pulled up outside a hospital, Mallory was confused. “Where are we?”
“Your appointment is here today,” the guard replied, as she grabbed Mallory by the hand and led her inside the hospital and to the maternity ward. “Remove your clothes and change into a hospital gown. You should go to the bathroom before you lay down on the bed.”
After finishing in the bathroom, Mallory’s eyes darted about when she found two nurses and an unfamiliar doctor in the room, as well as an extra guard. “What’s going on? Why are all these people here?”
The doctor spoke. “Mallory, it’s time to have your baby. We’re going to induce you today.”
She let out a blood-curdling scream. “No! I’m not in labor yet. It’s not time.” She felt the guards try to restrain her, and she flailed her arms. “Sky’s not here. He has to be here when the baby’s born.”
“The paternity test proved he’s not the father,” the female guard replied, as she tried to hold Mallory down.
The guards had their handcuffs at the ready, while the others in the room exchanged worried glances. One of the guards attempted to cuff her, but she elbowed him in the stomach before running into the hallway.
The guards caught up with Mallory and dragged her back into the room. She screamed and struggled with them while they shackled her arms and legs to the bed. “Stop it! No!”
“This is why we don’t tell them their due dates,” the female guard explained to the doctor and nurses. “They always try to escape.”
“Oww,” Mallory said, as one of the nurses injected her with a sedative. She continued to struggle against the restraints, but within a few minutes, she felt as though her body had turned into jelly. She tried to cry out, but her voice was more of a whimper.
Once she was sedated, an intravenous line was started. “She’s really out of it,” the nurse said. “And I don’t know how she’s going to push with her legs shackled.”
The female guard crossed her arms over her chest. “If we remove them, she might try to escape again. Can’t do it.”
The nurse shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. I guess she’ll just have to manage.” She began the Pitocin drip to induce labor.
Over the next few hours, the Pitocin levels in Mallory’s intravenous line were increased until she was ready to give birth. As her contractions came closer together, she became more agitated, and screamed at the guards. “Get Sky. Call Sky. He needs to be here with me.”
The nurse examined the fetal monitoring strip. She raised her eyebrows, and called out to the doctor. “The baby is in distress.”
The doctor looked at the monitor. “You’re right. We’re going to have to do an emergency c-section. Let’s get her prepped.”
Mallory called out. “What’s going on? Is there something wrong?”
The nurse turned to her. “We have to do a c-section. There’s a problem, and it has to be done because the baby is in distress.”
Mallory was in a daze as her bed was wheeled to the operating room. The bright lights hurt her eyes, and she squinted in an attempt to block some of the light while trying to watch the doctor and nurses.
An attractive young doctor caught her attention. “We’re going to give you some anesthesia,” he said. “When you wake up, it will be all over.”
“No,” she protested, shaking her head back and forth as the mask was placed over her face.
“Just breathe, and you’ll be asleep in no time,” the doctor assured her.
When Mallory woke up in the recovery room she was still handcuffed to the bedrails, and the two guards were stationed a few feet away. “Help me,” she called out. “Where’s my baby?”
A nurse approached her bed. “He’s in the nursery.”
Mallory tried to sit up in the bed, but was held back by the shackles on her wrists. “He? I had a boy?”
“Yes.”
“Can you bring him to me?”
The nurse looked at the guards, who nodded their heads. The female guard spoke up, and said, “It’s okay as long as we’re here. We can release her hands, as long as her ankles are still secured.”
The nurse returned a few minutes later with a bassinet containing a newborn. She lifted him up and waited for the guards to remove the shackles from Mallory’s wrists.
Mallory cried as the baby was placed in her arms. “Hi, little boy. I’m your mommy.” The baby squirmed and made a whimpering noise as she clutched him to her chest. “I’m going to call you William, because that’s your daddy’s real first name.”
She looked at the nurse and guards. “Is Sky here? Did you tell him to come to see his baby?”
“Mallory, he isn’t the father,” the female guard said. “You’ve been told a million times that the paternity test proved he isn’t the father.”
“No, the test was wrong. I know he’s William’s father.”
The guards and the nurse exchanged worried glances. The male guard rolled his eyes and whispered, “She’s delusional.”
Half an hour later, a female social worker entered the room. “Mallory, I’m Miss Taylor. I’m here to talk to you about what happens next.” She stood next to the bed, and reached for the baby. “Let’s put him in the bassinet so we can talk.”
Once the baby was removed from the room, the social worker spoke again. “I’m here to help you with your separation from your baby. Has anyone talked to you yet about that?”
Mallory’s eyes darted around the room. “Separation? What do you mean?”
The social worker glared at the guards, who shrugged their shoulders. The male guard took out his handcuffs, and the female guard followed his lead as they shackled Mallory’s wrists to the bed rails.
“Separation means that your baby will be placed in foster care when you go back to the facility. You can’t keep your baby with you there, but once you’re released, you can apply to regain custody of him.”
She lunged forward but the restraints kept Mallory from attacking the social worker. “You can’t take my baby from me. I’m his mother,” she screamed. “Don’t take my baby away.”
“A nice family will take care of him while he’s in foster care,” the social worker said, in an attempt to calm Mallory, but when she continued to scream and pull at the restrains, a nurse appeared and injected her with a sedative.
As the sedative began to take effect, Mallory whimpered, “I know what’s going on. That bitch Meg is going to take my baby. She stole Sky from me, and now she’s stealing my baby too.”