I've always wanted to have a child. Ever since I was little I've been a natural caretaker, praised for my responsibility and maturity. So, when I found out I was pregnant with my husband I was overjoyed. My husband was too, and for a while our life was perfect. Hudson and I had been high school sweethearts and we had always dreamed of having a kid together. My dad, on the other hand, was angry. He refused to help us with the baby in any way. I hate to say it, but I knew it was because he didn't like Hudson. I expected him to react angrily, but he was my only remaining family and it stung to see him so unsupportive of my life.

Despite the circumstances I was still so excited to be a mother, and began to prepare for our new life. I bought parenting books and studied them for hours, I took prenatal classes to prepare myself for the birth and I bought everything a baby could need. It put some strain on the relationship between Hudson and I, as we were supposed to be on a tight budget. Back then I was still employed as a receptionist for a dental practice, but I was planning to quit when the baby was born. Hudson wasn't super supportive of that, but he was resigned to the fact I wasn't going to budge on this. I wanted to give our baby the best life possible, and I wanted to be around for them at all times.

Everything changed when that thing was born. I went into labour two weeks before I was due, so it came as a shock when my water broke halfway through date night. Hudson rushed me to the hospital. I spent the next 47 hours in labour. I was prepared for pain before i got there, but not this level of agony. And I when I say agony, I mean the worst pain you can possibly imagine. My whole body burned and stung and throbbing with stabbing pains like thorns being pulled across me. I had refused any kind of pain medication when we first arrived, as I wanted to do it naturally. I immediately regretted my decision but was too stubborn to take it back. I felt blood running down my chin as I realised I'd been biting my lip. Blood, sweat and tears pooled on the bed.

The nurses assured me it was nothing they hadn't seen before. I was in prolonged labour, but this was pretty common and I should try not to worry. However I knew this was different. I didn't care what the nurses and doctors had to say I could read the truth on their worried faces. They knew just as well as I did that this was not ok.

Nearly two days of pure agony later I entered active labour. And IT was born. I knew as soon as they pulled that thing out that it wasn't my baby. I can't explain it. Maybe it was the way it looked at me with ratty little eyes. Maybe it was the way it snarled with it's toothless jaws. Or maybe it was how it reached for me with hands that seemed more like claws. Hudson stood by the bed holding it and smiling. Telling me we did it, I was a mother. I couldn't even look him in the eye. Then the thing let out a scream. Not the kind of scream you'd expect from a newborn, but a shriek. I blocked my ears and started to weep.

I begged Hudson not to bring it home. Pleaded with him. That was when he lost it. Shouted at me that I was being a horrible mother, and completely delusional. Those words stung me. Being a mother had been so important to me, but now it seemed insignificant. Without a word I stormed inside the house. I ran into my bedroom and cried.

Every night the thing would scream that ungodly shriek. It was driving me insane. Hudson would get up and try his best, but it seemed that nothing would work. It went on like this until Hudson too refused to get up for it at night. I couldn't bear it. I knew I had to do something.

I walked into the nursery that should have belonged to my child. Approaching the crib for the first time since leaving the hospital I noticed the claw and bite marks that covered it. Black liquid oozed out of it and pooled on the floor, corrupting the pastel rug that belonged to me as a child. I looked inside the crib to see a monster. It had black eyes and the palest skin I had ever seen. It's teeth were sharp and jagged like fangs and it smirked at me when It saw my horrified face.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I ran. I left the room, the house and my family. I had known that thing was wrong, and this was my proof. I ended up at my parents house, sobbing into my father's arms as the night wore on. He didn't even ask me why I had left, just told me he would prepare the guest room.

I've been staying here at my fathers for the past few months, and haven't heard a word of news from Hudson. I hope to god he's ok, but there's no way I'm going anywhere near that house again, near that THING again. I haven't told anyone I know what happened, and I don't plan to. I thought I should share my story here, and maybe someone can make sense of it.

But before I go, there's one thing I have to mention. While browsing through my father's old books, I stumbled across a set of picture books from my childhood. Looking through them I discovered one I remember being gravely afraid of. "The Changlings" was the book in question. I'm not ready to read it again and I doubt I ever will be. However the title alone was enough to reignite my fear. I hope to God every night that thing isn't what I think it is, but I know my prayers are wasted.