Mom's pregnancy was... well, extremely torturous.
Constant nausea, mystery aches, and this fun new "miscarriage risk" feature that left her more fragile than a house of cards, which undermined her already lousy condition. A lot of energy, health, and nerves were spent on keeping Mom stable and healthy. But she fought — clawing for her life and the parasite's with terrifying grit. Dad became a walking coffee stain. Me?
Pure, crystalline rage at that little hell-squatter siphoning her life force.
“Don't blame the child!” they begged.
“We chose this!” they justified.
“The baby mightn't survive either!”
But was that thing's flickering pulse worth my mom's light? No!
I needed my mom! Not some amniotic demon turning her into the last shimmer of the brightest star!
But time's a flat circle (ugh). Weeks bled into months until... D-Day. The grand debut of Mom's "bundle of joy" (translation: my future headache).
Frankly? I was just glad she'd finally evict the tenant.
Only from the nurses and midwives I learned (well, how did I learn? | overheard) - this wasn't a birth at all, but something strange. Her body was violently rejecting that bantling prematurely, without cause. Too early. Her system hadn't even prepared properly. l'd suspected 'cause there'd been zero warning signs. One thing became crystalline clear: Mom was balanced on a blade's edge, and nobody dared guarantee the delivery room wouldn't become her tomb.
I clenched to keep from howling. Tears burned my ocular edges, hands trembling with fury and primal terror - but the worst part? They barred me from her side. What if the last words we'd ever exchange were through this damn wall?
It didn't take eternity before the tense midwife came out of the ward.
“The birth went... relatively well. Mom has a long rest ahead of her. As for the girl, the doctors are closely monitoring her vital signs... Congratulations on the new addition!”
Oh, what a joy. The parasite is a sister. "Super".
Hours later, they finally let Dad and me into Mom's room. I was so relieved! Dad? He would be later. Work barely gave him five minutes off. He'd visit later.
I entered the room and my gaze fell on my sleeping mother and the hospital cradle next to her. Mom was still weak and slowly recovering from a protracted and difficult labor, so I decided not to pester her with conversations.
“Hi, Mom. I hope you're doing... less bad.”
Mom didn't open her eyes, but it was clear she was just sleeping and regaining her strength.
“Rest, I just wanted to see you.” I cast an unkind glance at the bassinet where this demon rested. “Now you...”
As I approached, I half-expected to see some leech-monster in the bassinet - the nightmare my imagination had painted.
Instead, reality sucker-punched me: The damn thing was cute. And the sickening part? I admitted it.
My stare scraped over the tiny triangle: deep violet, absurdly fragile, limbs splayed like a clumsy star.
It's ridiculous. She's ridiculous.
"Well, hello... little misfortune," | muttered, my tone dripping with irritation at both her and the entire situation. "Mom went through hell just for a squishy pathetic shrimp?"
A few seconds of one-sided glaring later, the baby stretched with a tiny whimper, cracking open a sliver of an eye. Still adjusting to sight, but sharp enough to lock onto me.
She cooed, reaching up with clumsy nubs.
(I absolutely would not.)
But when I didn't budge, her face scrunched. A thin, reedy whine began building.
"Sh*t! No, shhhh, quiet..."
Quiet but threatening nuclear meltdown.
I scooped the tiny traitor up, tucking her against my chest. Instant silence. She stared up at me, blinking slowly, then chirped like a content kitten.
“Heh, you wily tot,” | muttered, poking her side.
“You know how to charm at first sight. Don't think it'll be easy to appease me!”
She answered with a gummy squeal, batting a nub at my face.
“So... what's your name, Glitch?”
A raspy, warm chuckle cut through the quiet. Mom lay watching us, a tired but radiant smile on her face.
“Making friends already?”
“What? No! She was just—!”
“Eva. Her name's Eva.” Mom's grin turned sly as she noticed the faint gold flush creeping up my cheeks.
“...Eva?” | repeated, tasting the syllables.
“Is it just me or is she staring at me for too long?..”
Mom's chuckle dissolved into a cough. “She likes you.”
“I don't think so...” | muttered... right as Eva's tiny hand gripped my finger. “...Yeah, right...”
