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My heart pounds in my ears. My lungs burn as I suck in breath. My stomach flip-flops, and I feel something coiling within me, writhing like a snake in my guts.

I stop.

I hold my breath.

That’s not panic writhing inside me.

That’s… my baby?

I pull in a breath, and it shakes as I drop my hand to the bottom of my stomach. I feel it again, like a tiny wiggle, though it’s something I can only feel on the inside, not on the outside.

My baby is moving inside of me.

My baby.

No.

No, that’s not right.

It’sourbaby.

Draco is the father.

How many nights had I laid awake and prayed for that to be true? Now it is?

I wanted this.

I prayed for this.

And God made it come true.

“What do I do now?” I whisper into the empty clearing.

I could turn back. Return to the church, apologize for my outburst, submit to whatever cleansing ritual Pastor Wilson prescribes for me.

I could pray harder, believe stronger, deny the evidence.

No.

I don’t want to go back.

There is nothing left there for me now.

I keep walking, out of the sunlight and into the shadows.

Everything just became more tangent, more real.

My baby is real.

My baby is counting on me to do the right thing.

The undergrowth grows thicker here, thorny bushes snagging at my dress like grasping hands.

I don’t know what I’m going to do, I just know I need answers.

The forest spits me out near Willow Creek Apartments—home.

The parking lot stretches before me, its asphalt cracked and buckled. It’s like a mirror, and it reflects the way I feel in my heart.