Suddenly my body goes on auto-pilot. I have no idea what I’m doing, but instinct seems to take over. I guide my mom to her room and lay her on her bed, talking her calmly through every contraction. "Breathe, Mom," I say, trying to soothe her, "Just breathe. I'm here." Sylvia stands in the corner, looking on awkwardly.
As my mom gingerly climbs onto the bed while holding her belly, she looks up at me with fear in her eyes. I tenderly stroke her hair. “It’s going to be okay, mom,” I say, “Just keep breathing.”
“That’s the thing, Mariel,” She says between gasps for air, “If this child is Nephilim… Angel… I might not survive.” She gasps for air again, then hisses the breath out between pursed lips. “Humans can’t survive giving birth to a Nephilim, Mariel.”
My heart hits the floor. She wasn’
