Her breathing quickened, her sides heaving slightly like an old set of billows. Her eyes were wide and frantic and she was on the verge either a real panic attack or a loud tantrum of some sort. Anxiety clawed its way through her mind, up through her guts and her heart and her throat.
The mad hatter tilted his hat at her and smiled goofily, the Cheshire cat that had her little Neville’s eyes disappeared before her, leaving her arms empty and bereft.
She was all alone. So alone. There was a void that was so unfamiliar that it hurt.
“Why isn’t he with me?” she demanded after letting the words process in her head. “I’m his mother! She won’t love him like I do! She won’t take care of him like me! I want my baby, and I want him now!”
Her eyes filled with tears and her empty arms ACHED. She faltered, sagging back against the side of the bed slightly. “Why won’t you give me my baby?” she cried, knees weakening as a sob wracked her body, sliding her to the floor. “Why can’t I have my son?” Her empty arms clutched at nothing, leaving her holding herself and rocking on the ground, keening for her baby.