In fact, I am positive it would not have been wise. From the moment I heard the front door open and saw Charles, his father and the two other men enter my room, I knew that they had come for Melissa, and that realistically, I could do nothing to prevent this. As a four-month old baby, how could I have intervened? No, as Ruth I could have done nothing. Literally. Apart from crying perhaps, and that would have achieved nothing. As the Buddha Gotama? Yes, I could have spoken. I could have raised my spiritual voice within these men and told them the truth: Melissa was not delusional. We had had a conversation. There is absolutely nothing the matter with her. But that, for these men, would have amounted to the Impossible, for—as far as modern mankind knows, and can recall—there is no such thing, there is no room for such voices, for such communication. The Impossible. And I know from experience that humans manage to stay rational only so long as, and only to the degree that, they are not faced with and then overwhelmed by the Impossible.
