Narrate a flashback to the time when you were in your mother's womb that shows, even then, dark entities were interested in you.
Marianne Davies has experienced the sickness that came with pregnancy before - she had three healthy children already, she was no stranger to the process - but something about this illness feels wrong.
She is sitting in church - a small thing, presumably Catholic by the priest's garb - her husband and her children on either side of her. Her pregnancy is just beginning to show.
She is cold, but she feels sweat roll down her back. It feels impossible to stop the shaking in her hands even as she listens to the priest read Latin scripture, something that she usually could find such peace in. Her husband clasps the one closest and looks at her with tender concern, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. She tries to give him a reassuring smile, but past him - leaning back against a colonnade - is a thing she's never seen before. It is all she can do not to cry out in shock, eyes widening in horror and her free hand rising to the cross necklace she wears. Her throat feels tight, like she wants to scream but the sound is trapped and threatening to choke her
The thing is long-limbed and cloaked in darkness, but almost human in its general arrangement. Shadow curls around it, up and over its form and seeming to pull at its body the way mud would pull at a stuck boot. It watches her intently, its white eyes fixed on where she sits in the pew.
Her husband turns to see what she is staring at, but the confusion and deeper worry in his eyes when he looks at her again tells her that he can't see it. It smiles, all sharp teeth and malice in its gaunt face - but she somehow understands that it isn't looking at her, not really. When the priest reads the scripture, she hears its voice speak too, and her hand comes drops from her necklace to her stomach: "tu scis quia amo te."