Alice shuffled under the covers, pressing her face into the pillow. Then came a loud and urgent knock. She did not move. Too drained. It returned faster, rougher, and more eager. Her chest constricted. She sensed something was wrong. She did not need to be told. She could feel it.
She stumbled toward the door, pulling the blanket behind her, her hair tangled and eyes half-closed. Her hand turned the knob, and a cold breeze jolted her awake.
And there stood Jill.
No make-up. No coat. No shoes. Just an oversized shirt hanging off her like a wet tissue. Her eyes were wild, red, and glassy, with bruised shadows suggesting more than sleepless nights.
"Alice," she said, her voice raw, "we need to terminate the baby. Now!"
Alice blinked, half expecting a camera crew to emerge from behind the corridor railing. "Jill, it's five in the morning." What the hell—?
"We can't wait; it has to be now.
A silence fell. Alice stared at her friend's face—Jill looked as if she hadn't slept in days, perhaps weeks. Her lips were cracked, and her fingers twitched as though they were trying to escape from her hands.
"Wait. Hold up." Alice pulled her robe tighter, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Just yesterday, you said abortion wasn't an option. You cried over it. Remember that? You said you couldn't. So why the sudden change of mind?"
Jill leaned against the doorframe, her breath harsh as if she had just run a marathon uphill through fog. "It's not a baby. It's not what you think."
Alice stepped aside to let her in, but her stomach contracted. Something wasn't right. Jill shuffled inside, her arms curled around herself as if she were trying not to fall apart.
Alice gently closed the door behind her. "Okay. Sit down. Talk to me."
Jill didn't sit. She stood in the middle of the living room, shaking as if her skin didn't fit right.
"I spoke to him," she said, barely above a whisper.
"To whom?"
"To the baby."
Alice squinted. "You what?"
"I spoke to him. He... he spoke back."
Alice gave a quick, unbelieving laugh. "Are you serious right now?"
"I'm not joking, Alice." Jill's voice trembled. "Last night, I was lying down, and then... I was somewhere else. Somewhere dark. And he was there. He did have a voice, Alice. He spoke to me. A voice like a—" She swallowed. "He told me he chose me."
"Okay…" Alice said slowly, her arms crossed now, defensive. "You're telling me you had a dream."
Jill shook her head. "No. I woke up screaming. I felt him—inside me—but not like a kick, not like a normal baby thing. He was aware. He knew things. Things I've never told anyone. He said his name was Larry."
Alice blinked. "Larry? The demon baby's name is Larry?"
"This isn't funny."
"You hear yourself, Jill? It's all nonsense. None of it makes a damn bit of sense," Alice yelled.
Jill's eyes widened in horror, and her teeth sank into her fingers. She appeared bewildered, as if she couldn't grasp the situation well enough to articulate it.
"He already told me no one would believe me," she whispered, her voice breaking into a quiet sob.
"I'm sorry, Jill—okay, I'm sorry." Alice rubbed her temple. "You realise how this sounds, right?"
"I don't care how it sounds. I felt him. I saw him. His face was like a memory that doesn't belong anywhere. He is a demon, Alice." Jill yelled.
Alice sat down. "You think your baby is a demon."
Jill nodded.
A lengthy pause followed. Outside, a trash truck groaned to life.
Jill said again, "I need to get rid of him before he grows stronger. Before he does something to me."
Alice's lips parted to speak, but nothing came out.
"Have you... seen a doctor? Maybe it's stress. Or lack of sleep. Hormones can mess with—"
"I'm not crazy," Jill said, and her voice cut sharply this time. "I've seen crazy. This isn't it."
Her hands trembled, her fingers stiffened, and her knuckles lost colour. Her gaze seemed strangely distant and somewhat bewildered. Her expression was glaring, brutal, and smeared.
"Okay," Alice said slowly. "Okay. We'll go. But not now. No clinic's open at this hour."
"We have to go now—"
"Jill, listen to me." Alice stood up, walked over, and touched Jill's shoulders. "It's too early. We wait till nine. I'll come with you. We'll figure it out, alright?"
Jill's body tightened at her touch, and she nodded slowly.
"Alright. "Alright."
Alice led her to the couch and sat her down. She got her water and watched her drink it with both hands, as if it were the last glass on Earth.
They remained silent for a long time as the sun rose, light filtering through the blinds.
Then, softly, Jill whispered, "If I don't do it... He'll use my body to come back to Earth."
Alice glanced at her. "Come back?"
"He's trapped somewhere," Jill said. "He's returning and wants me to be his gateway back to Earth."
Alice didn't know what to say to that.
Jill leaned back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling as if she could see right through it. "He said he's tried other ways to come back… But mine—mine's the only one he's certain of," she said, her voice low, almost trembling.
Alice wrapped a blanket around her friend's shoulders. "You're not alone, okay? I'm here. You're not doing this alone."
Jill didn't reply.
Outside, the morning had finally dawned. Birds chirped as if they hadn't heard the news.
A strange sound drifted across the room in the silence—a soft, barely-there hum. Alice turned to look, but Jill's eyes were closed.
Then, clear as a whisper behind her ribs, Jill heard it again.
A voice. From inside.
"You're too late."
She sat up straight, breath stuck in her throat.
Alice was already dialling her phone, her lips moving to a doctor's name and appointment times. She didn't notice Jill's face turn pale or the whisper that slithered through Jill's blood like a promise.
Jill carefully lifted her shirt, her hand trembling as it touched the exposed skin of her stomach.
It was warm.
Her eyes were wide and unblinking, fixated on the source of the movement.
And it moved.
Something moved deep within her, like fingers moving outward from her belly for the first time. Alice turned, noticing a peculiar ripple beneath the thin linen. Her eyes expanded.
"What was that?" she asked, her tone tense.
"It's the baby," Jill whispered, fear written across every line of her face.
"That's impossible… It's only three months. It shouldn't be moving like that."
"I don't know," Jill whispered, shaking her head.
"I've booked an appointment with my doctor," Alice said, reaching for her coat. "We leave at nine."
Jill didn't respond. Instead, she carefully lifted her shirt. The fabric rose inch by inch, revealing pale skin beneath the light. Her hand travelled to her belly, hesitating just before making contact.
She pressed her palm flat against the gentle curve.
Her eyes expanded.
And it remained that way.