Nephilims Awakening

Prologue

I knew that the time was near. I ran down the rustic wooden stairs of the old abandoned warehouse – dust drifted in the air as I took every step. I clutched the knife that I had in my bag closer to my chest. I've been planning for this moment for months now. The thing that was inside of me kicked and it felt like a sharp blade jabbing against my skin over and over again. I let out a large yelp of pain and I fell down onto the cold and splintered floor with trembling legs. The thing had to come out now – no it wanted to!

"Just come out already!" I yelled at it and I ripped open the bottom of my light blue sundress. I comforted myself against an old pile of newspapers that was right next to the stone-age printer. During the last few months I've read a lot of books on how to handle natural birth on your own, and even though I felt prepared for what was going to happen, I also felt the most excruciating pain I've ever felt, and that's not something that they put in most of the books or the brochures at the clinic. My whole lower body felt like it was burning from the inside out, so I pushed and pushed and screamed a lot for three more hours until I felt the head of the thing coming out. I screamed as loud as I could to express both my agony and trauma, took a deep breath, and reminded myself that I couldn't concentrate on the pain right now, because the best thing was to keep on going.

I pushed once and three more times until I felt the rest of the body coming out like a flood of water. The thing fell onto the floor and the sounds of my screams faded, and was quickly replaced by the soft sobs of a baby crying. The burning sensation was quickly replaced by a cool sensation of relaxation and calmness. I could feel the hot tears running down my face and I closed my eyes, and rested my head against the back of the pile of newspapers for a few seconds, taking it all in. I couldn't decide whether I was happy that the thing was finally out of me, or sad that I had to do something which I never deliberated on doing - murder. I opened my eyes again and I saw the thing laying stiff down on the cold floor, covered in nothing else but blood and vernix and a little bit of dust from the dirty old wooden floors from the factory.

This was it. I prodded my hand into my bag for the knife, and once I felt the cold metal handle on my fingertips, I took hold of it and raised it high up in the air with trembling hands. The shiny blade reflected the image of both me and the baby, and I shut the picture out of my mind. I steadied myself. I was ready to stab this monster right in the heart – but only when I really looked at it for the first time, and I mean really look at it, was when I realised that I couldn't do it. I wasn't a murderer, and it looked so pure. It seemed nothing like the monster I imagined it would be. I placed the metal knife down onto the floor slowly, and then picked the thing up and cradled it in my arms, letting out a soft gasp of joy as I smiled down on it. My heart filled with love, and my brain accepted responsibility for the first time. The more I looked at it, the more the time stopped around us. I couldn't take my eyes off of it – or shall I say the baby.

Unlike other babies it stopped crying, and without my help the baby had already started to breath on its own, which wasn't normal, but what mattered was that the baby was perfectly fine even though it was born under these conditions. It had perfect golden brown eyes and even in the darkness of the shabby abandoned factory, it had this bright glowing light surrounding the things body. That gave me even more reasons to kill it and to get rid of this monster that has made my life a living hell. The baby lifted its tiny hand into the air, reaching out to me . . . and pulling me in even deeper. I couldn't stop staring at it. It was the most beautiful baby that I've ever seen, and when I looked closer I saw that it was a little baby girl. It was my baby girl. Surprisingly, I let out another joyful laugh.

My mind told me that I had to kill her, but I couldn't bring myself to kill her because I already loved her. This thing, no this abomination, was the reason for everything that has happened this past year and a half. It was against everything I believed in. I tried to tell everyone what happened that night and what was going to happen – but no one believed me, and instead they sent me off to a mental facility so that I couldn't hurt myself or the baby. Even my own father, who used to be my best friend, told me with a disgusted voice that I was the one who sinned, and girls who sin gets punished. He told me that I was a disgrace to the family. Everyone thought that I was just some foolish teenage girl who wanted to get attention, and after being diagnosed with schizophrenia, depression and plenty of other mental diseases, it kind of made sense not only to me, but to those who I thought were my friends and family as well.