That very evening, somewhere inside Pertwilla, down a dark tunnel, in an old factory, a girl lay on her side, her body twisting in pain, screaming over and over as blood spilled forth from between her lips. Nearby, a horrible-looking monster-- the one from Deth's dream-- stood, enraptured, watching the spectacle with a sort of expectancy, waiting…

"God…" The girl moaned, her body heaving as if of it's own accord. Her belly was slightly rounded, characteristic of pregnancy, but that of only 3 or 4 months, shuddering and expelling the red fluid with a vengeance. Finally, the spasms ended, and she lay still, her hair drenched in sweat, her lips inches from the puddle of crimson beside her face. She was gasping for breath, and then, with a small noise, she sat up, and began to claw at her own stomach. Screams erupted from her chest as her nails began to slough away skin and scabs, going over marks that already existed, dried blood flaking off in her fingers. The creature behind her growled and lunged, grabbing her arms and dragging her to her feet.

"No." It growled forcefully, and she sobbed.

"I hate you! I hate you!" The thing smiled, revealing it's two rows of needle-sharp teeth, and then it struck her across her already-bruised face, hard, knocking her to the ground. She spat another mouthful of blood onto the cold floor, and choked back another cry of disgust and self-hatred. The thing grinned a sinister, sly grin, and nudged her with it's foot.
"Up." It commanded in a low rasp. The girl did not move, but remained weeping at it's feet. It growled again, louder, and she slowly rose, whimpering, hunching over her swolen stomach. The creature stroked her hair, chuckling to itself.
"What have you done to me…" She moaned, pressing her hands into her middle. "I fucking hate you, you monster…" Her tears were ceaseless in their bitter fury. The thing, put one finger beneath her chin and tilted it upwards to stare into it's pallid eyes.

"Trish…" It growled. "Baby."