Ira was only three. Too young to understand at the time, to young to know why his mom had hung herself. She had left a note, that she knew someone would find, someone would read it and understand why.
I can't take it anymore. He was a mistake, I should have never fallen for that man, should never had allowed myself to sleep with him. That child is a demon! I terrible being, just looking at him proves it! I gave birth to hell, and I should't live any longer.
A cop had found her, after being called to investigate the missing woman, a cop had read the note allowed, knowing the three year old boy wouldn't understand. He was so young, so young. But the words stuck with him. Stuck with him till he was old enough to understand.
Ira's mother had killed herself, because she was scared by what she created, ashamed. The incubus knew it was his fault. Knew he was the reason she felt the way she did. He was guilty, for being what he was. Guilty for being filth even a mother couldn't love.