Alone in my mother's attic, I panted in exertion, my large belly rising and falling with every breath.

Perspiration cast a damp sheen over my body. Rest didn't slow my breathing, or the intensity of my deep stare. If anything, as the time passed, my breath only quickened. My patience built, waiting to be released.

I positioned into a crouch. One deep breath later, I leapt up and sprinted down the aisle of the attic. Even at eight months pregnant, I ran with grace and purpose learned from daily running sessions. Upon reaching the end of the attic, I leapt from the open window. I didn't close my eyes because I wasn't afraid. Stars and silver moon glittered around me as my body spun to the Earth.

Before impact, regret flashed for Rafe and the future we could have had together, but mostly for my mother. Our entire family had met with tragedy, and it was my turn.

I was ready to meet death, ready to meet the crush of my bones and body, and then hopefully, a blissful darkness where none existed but myself. Being caught in a pair of strong arms ruined all of that.

My joints were jolted as I was plucked from the sky, but not nearly as much of a jolt as I would have met if my descent had continued. The physical and emotional stress of the fall drained me of the adrenaline I had burned a few seconds before.

"It's okay. I've got you."

I registered the familiar voice. "Rafe? How did you...?"

He was carrying me, running swiftly, my body bouncing in rhythm to the sound of hooves. Hooves?

Voice fading along with my consciousness, I asked, "Why do I smell horse?"

I saw stars, finally.

* * * * *

I awoke to more darkness. The black was so complete that I rubbed my eyes to make sure I had woken up. Yup. Still alive. I groped around for a light switch, but a stronger arm ended my search.

"Don't. You need to rest."

Rest. Rafe's words brought with them a flood of memories.

Falling.

Rafe.

I turned over in the bed to face him."You caught me. How?"

Rafe laughed without humor. "Sweetheart, you passed out. I found you in the attic, hyperventilating and talking gibberish."

I recalled the descent...with my back to the pavement, the canopy of stars had been too beautiful to imagine.

"What? No. I jumped."

Rafe scoffed. "If by jumping, you mean collapsing on the attic floor, then yes, you did." He sighed. "After I found you, I called your doctor, but she didn't answer. So I brought you home, to sleep."

His version of what happened sounded a lot more plausible than mine. There was no earthly way he could have caught me had I jumped. No way at all.

Like he had said, I must've passed out, and dreamed I had jumped.

If that had been a dream, then maybe...

"Mom!" I bolted upright, struggling to roll out of bed.

I was again strong-armed, but I slapped him away. "I need to see her! Where is she?"

"She's not here!" I heard the words from far away, and he had to repeat them three more times before the message registered.

"But---but, she was dead. That's why I tried to---" I hesitated, "kill myself."

"Suicide?" He held me by the arms, as if to shake sense into me.

"Suicide attempts," I stupidly corrected him.

He stilled. "Are you kidding me?" He realized I wasn't kidding him. Then, "Why?"

"Look, none of this matters. I have to see my mother."

When I tried getting up, he held me down. "You're not going anywhere until you explain yourself."

I didn't like being bossed around, and in fact, had no time for it. In vain, I thrashed around until I tried myself out.

"Done?" He asked, his grip not slackening.

"My mom is hurt," I whispered, biting back tears.

"She's fine," Rafe assured me. "Must be out at the store or something, 'cause her car's gone. Thank God she didn't see what you did. Or tried to do. Now...why?"

Even though he couldn't see me crying in the dark, I rolled away from him and began babbling.

"This baby is not a...baby. The shaman told me." I let that simmer a moment before continuing, "He also told me he was an Ipotane. What's an Ipotane?"

Ignoring my question, Rafe asked a few of his own, "Why were you at your mother's house? And how else did you try and hurt yourself?"

"Why does that matter now?"

"Because I love you, shithead."

Through my tears, laughter escaped. "You might not after I tell you all of the weird-ass stunts I pulled."

"I think I can handle it."

"Okay then," I said, and I spilled all the crazy, often referring to the baby as 'it'.

On about the twentieth mention of 'it', Rafe stopped my explanation.

"It?"

"The baby," I clarified. "I wasn't sure before, but now I am." After my failed suicide attempts, I knew I was carrying something non-human.

"How?"

I outlined the different ways I had tried to end my life before hurtling myself from the attic window. After meeting the demon-specter in the apartment, I had fled to my mother's house, looking for comfort. Upon discovering her dead body (which must have just been a phantom), I collapsed on the living room couch, a crying mess. When I went to wipe my tears, I noticed I was still clutching a knife from the kitchen. A sharp knife. The wicked glint of steel was all the answer I needed.

I could take care of my own problems, only it would hurt too much if I used the knife. But my mother, she had pills a plenty. Little did I know that none of my suicide attempts would work, and after each fail, I was only more eager to move on and try another.

The first thing I tried was swallowing a bottle of pills, but when I tilted the bottle to my mouth, it was empty. Bottle after bottle, they were all empty once they reached my lips. Then I tried to swallow some bleach, but the liquid wouldn't leave the bottle, as if an invisible seal held it in place. Next, I tried to slit my wrists, but the knife I used only left small marks, the way a plastic knife would. When I tried cutting my belly, the knife sunk into a buttery softness, harming nothing. Rafe was silent, so I went on:

"After that, I thought I'd finally lost it. I was desperate, thinking the only way to rid the world of my crazy self and the demon spawn was to jump. I suppose that's when you found me, because I really don't remember much else."

Both of us lay, contemplating.

Finally he said, "Like butter? Really?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Hmmm...."

"Rafe, what is that smell?"

"Oh, it's just...I need to shower."

We quieted a second time.

When a good five minutes passed, Rafe demanded, "What exactly did that shaman tell you again?"

"You and I both know he doesn't exactly tell anyone anything.  Without really saying it at all, he told me I was going to give birth to a...demon."

"Funny. He told me the same thing," Rafe admitted quietly.

I was shocked. "What? When?"

"Just today. It's why I came to find you. After I dropped you off, I could tell you had kind of snapped. So I phoned Minghan. With how you've been acting, I knew you'd try something rash. I'm glad I got to you in time, because whatever force was protecting you from harming that baby might not have been able to cushion a two-story fall."

He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back.

"I'm glad you were there, too." And I was. My desire for death was quelled, but I was back to being scared. "But you believed him, right? About the baby?"

"Sweetheart, I'm exhausted, and you're exhausted. I'll tell you everything in the morning."

Everything? What else was there to tell?

My thoughts meandered into nothing as I drifted to sleep for the second time that night and not for the last time in this tale.