The tyres crunched against the gravel driveway, producing a quiet, hesitant groan. Jill parked beneath the tree's shadow, which had stood for years like an old watchman, its leaves whispering in the silent darkness. The porchlight flared overhead. Her body ached with fatigue. She opened the car door and stepped outside, the night air wrapping around her shoulders.
The front door swung open before she could reach it. Anna stood there barefoot, her arms pulled tightly across her breast, her face twisted with concern.
"Jill, where the hell have you been?" Her voice trembled in the tense area between fury and terror.
Jill barely glanced at her. "I'm fine," she replied, moving past. "I just need to lie down."
Anna followed her inside, her voice hushed, and whispered, "You don't look fine." "Your face... You appear to have seen a ghost."
Jill remained silent. She ascended the stairs as if she had forgotten to keep a straight path. Her fingers found the handle to her bedroom door, and she slid inside with no further words.
That's when the tears came.
It felt heavy behind the closed door. She leaned against it briefly, eyes closed, heart thudding beneath her ribs as if it was attempting to punch its way out. The bed appeared to be a quiet, comfortable island in the distance. She got halfway across the room before her knees gave out and she dropped onto the mattress.
She cried; it was sharp and quiet, and she sank her face into the cushion, as if she could escape from the sound of her unravelling.
A knock followed shortly by the creak of the door opening.
Anna.
Jill leaned away from the light; her eyes closed. She held her breath, pretending to sleep.
"Jill, are you ok?" Anna asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you," Jill said, swiftly wiping away the small tears that had formed in her eyes.
Anna moved closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face. Jill sniffled and turned to face her, her nose slowly twitching like someone who had just stopped sobbing.
Anna grasped both of her hands and murmured, "If there is anything you can tell me, please do so. You can always count on me."
"I said I'm OK." I can take care of myself," Jill said, her voice tinged with fury.
"Mr. Halden and I have been worried," Anna said quietly. "He said you took the car from him and told him to go home... that you had something important to take care of."
She hesitated and kept a tight eye on Jill. "Are you seeing someone?"
"I said I'm fine!" Jill yelled, her voice cracking from the strain of something more profound. Her eyes were filled with hatred, but there was also a glimmer of fear—raw, defensive, and wordless. She withdrew her hands from Anna's grasp, as if the inquiry had scorched her skin.
Anna stepped back, moving slowly and cautiously. She didn't want to go any further—Jill's rage was sharp enough to cut through the room, and Anna was afraid that one more question would shatter what little peace remained. She swallowed her concern and stayed silent, retreating both physically and spiritually.
She walked toward the entrance before glancing back at Jill.
"By the way", Anna whispered, "a friend of yours stopped by today." He left a number. Said to call him."
No response.
"He said his name was Adex."
That name cut through Jill's confusion. She sat up gradually, her voice dry. "I know him", she mumbled, "but I'm not interested."
Anna stood transfixed at the doorway. "He seemed worried. "I think he—"
"I said I'm not interested!" Jill yelled.
Anna flinched. "Okay. Sorry. I'll let you rest."
She stepped back into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her. The room descended into darkness.
Jill lay quietly, staring at the ceiling. Sleep did not come. Her flesh scorched under the blanket despite the air conditioner's low temperature. She tossed and turned, kicking the sheet away, and then dragged it back. Her limbs felt simultaneously heavy and light. Her thoughts drifted into the narrow, cracked space between reality and dream.
And then the dream found her.
It began with warm, slow-moving water. She floated in it, her body curled inward, as light surged across a soft, dark crimson landscape. She could see the foetal pole, an embryo forming inside her womb. First, it appeared as a pearl, then a pulse, and finally, something alive.
A baby.
Not what she had envisioned. Not what she had hoped for.
But it was real.
The breathing.
She noticed its face before it formed. She also saw a man's eyes looking back at her through the skin of her womb.
She awoke with a gasp, sweating cold against her spine. The room swirled.
She looked through the darkness of her room.
That's when she saw him.
A man, sitting across from her in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other, like he belonged there.
He smiled when she met his eyes.
"Who are you?" Her voice squeaked out.
He tilted his head. "Name's Larry. Larry Hubert."
He said it like they were old friends.
"What do you want?" Her hand searched behind her for anything, including her phone, the lamp, and a weapon.
"It's nice to meet you finally, Jill," Larry added. He stood slowly and gracefully, as if unconcerned about the passage of time. His eyes never wavered.
He approached her effortlessly, each step unhurried and emanating an uncomfortable calm. There was no strain in his body, just a calm confidence that filled the air around him.
"How do you know my name?" Jill asked, her voice teetering between fear and interest.
Larry offered a faint, knowing smile. "Never mind," he replied calmly. "I know a lot of things."
He leaned forward on the bed, his gaze glued on hers. With a steady hand, he pointed a finger at her and spoke confidently, his voice quiet but full of meaning.
"You won't harm that baby," he said.
She stiffened. "What did you say?"
"I said", he repeated, "you won't harm that baby. I'm sure you won't."
Her heart raced. "How do you know that?" I have not told anyone."
He smiled. "Because I live in you."
She stared at him, dumbfounded.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jill enquired, her face clouded with confusion and her eyes narrowing as she attempted to make sense of his calm, mysterious words.
Larry tilted his head slightly, still smiling, as if her question amused rather than upset him.
"I'm the one inside you," Larry said calmly, as if describing the weather.
Jill froze. The words rang in her ears, hollow and unreal. Her breath froze in her throat as she stared at him, her eyes wide and horrified, and her face pale. She couldn't move or speak; she could only look at him, as if the walls around her had collapsed.
Larry's countenance changed, the tranquillity vanishing into something fierce and urgent. "You wouldn't understand," he continued, his voice low and desperate. "For a while, I've been trapped between worlds. Here's my chance to return to Earth. I need you, Jill." You're the only one who can bring me back."
Jill felt her breath seize as her mind struggled to comprehend the meaning of his words. The room seemed to close in on her, the air heavy with something dark and strange, something that crushed on her chest and choked her.
She backed up to the headboard. "You're sick; I don't even know you."
Larry didn't flinch. "You felt me, didn't you? In your dreams. In those calm nights when you thought you were alone."
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Indeed, she had felt something inside her that wasn't hers.
"You dreamt of me," he continued, "and when your mind opened, I slipped in."
She shook her head. "No. No, you're just some nightmare. You're not real."
"Is that what you believe?" he said. "Try asking your body. Try asking that thing growing inside you."
"You... You raped me," she said, barely breathing the words.
He laughed—a soft, cruel sound. "Let's not be dramatic. You welcomed me in."
Her stomach rumbled.
"This can't be real. I'm losing my mind."
"If you are", Larry said, stepping closer, "then I'm your favourite hallucination."
"Are you... the Devil?" she whispered.
He smiled again, but this time more softly. "No." Just a man who wants to return home."
"Please leave me alone," Jill wailed gently, her face twisted in horror as the words fell from her lips, a desperate plea that seemed to vanish into the suffocating air.
Larry's expression softened, yet his words held an unsettling weight. "You don't know what it's like to be trapped in an underworld," he added, his tone low and almost sorrowful. "I've been stuck there for too long, and you're my vessel back to Earth."
He paused, gazing at her for a minute, as if weighing the air between them. Then his voice lowered, earnest and begging. "I am pleading as well. "Do not touch that baby."
Jill was speechless, her gaze fixed on him as the urgency in his voice gripped her. The weight of his words pressed down on her, suffocating her thoughts; all she could do was stand frozen, unable to respond.
The door burst open.
Anna ran in, eyes wide. "Jill! What's going on?"
Jill looked from Anna to Larry.
Anna didn't react.
"What happened?" Anna asked.
"Can you see him?" Jill asked, her voice shaking.
"See who?" Anna asked.
Larry wagged a finger. "She can't see me. Only you can, and it's because I live in you."
Anna stepped closer. "Jill? Talk to me. What's going on?"
"I—" Jill looked at Anna, then at Larry. "There's someone here. A man. He said he's—"
"If you tell her," Larry cut in, "she'll think you've lost your mind."
Jill closed her eyes.
"What are you saying?" "Talk to me, Jill." Anna's voice cracked, and her face showed fear and concern. Her entire body trembled as he urged her to speak.
"I need to be alone," Jill replied with a soft sob.
Anna's face was pale. "Are you sure?"
"I said leave!" Jill Yelled.
Anna stood back, astonished. She exited without saying anything else.
Larry moved to the window, looking out at the night like it was an old friend.
"She's worried because she cares. Don't yell like that," Larry said. "But don't get any ideas. If you try to eliminate me, there'll be consequences."
He returned his gaze to her, and his face flickered briefly.
Then he disappeared.
No sound. No flash. Just gone.
Jill sat in silence, her chest heaving and arms wrapped around her stomach.
The room remained still.
But her body didn't feel like her own anymore.
Not entirely.
And she knew—this wasn't over.