The following day, I wake up at 4:30am, and as I turn, Mylah is not on the bed. I then put on my morning gown and look for her in her room, but she is not there either. When I do not find her in her room, I panic and go look for her in the other parts of the house, pushing every door I come across.

“Mylah! Princess?” I shout.

Suddenly, it all feels like déjà vu because I have once done this while looking for her mother seventeen years back. When I do not find Mylah anywhere, I collapse on the couch by the fireplace and cry. At 6:00am sharp, the kitchen door bursts open and I jump to my feet. I then hear Mylah approaching, and when she finally appears, I notice that her pink nightgown is soaked in blood, her eyes are dull grey, she is crying, and her hands are shaking.

“Daaadddy,”she cries, throwing herself on me for a hug.

“Shhh, do not cry,” I respond, hushing her.

“He was … I was … I do not know what happened, dad. I swear!” she says, wailing as she clings on to me.

“Do not cry, my baby, just let me run a warm bath for you, Okay?” I says, and she nods in response.

**********

An hour later, Mylah appears from the bathroom, and she looks very peaceful and scared at the same time. She then sits next to me, and I put my arms around her.

“Tell daddy what happened,” I say softly.

“Dad, I do not know. I did not do it, I swear. Something possessed me,” she responds, whispering between hiccups.

“What did you do?” I ask.

“Something woke up inside of me at three am, and I suddenly felt strong and I did not fear what might be waiting for me outside,” she responds, crying. “I walked until I reached Cameroon High. This other boy was loading his luggage into his truck there, and I do not know what happened.”

“And?” I ask, rocking her back and forth.

“And, and … something beckoned me to go to the boy and I did,” she responds, sobbing loudly. “He looked like he was in his early twenties. He said he was driving to his new college and his car was giving him trouble. We spoke for a while, really well, actually. I do not know what happened next, but the next time I looked up, I saw him lying on the street with his insides gone and me drenched in blood. I did not eat his insides, Dad, some monster inside me did.”

“It is not your fault,” I say to her.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Your mother, you are just like your mother,” I whisper in response.

“My mother? You said my mother died of lung cancer when I was just a few weeks old,” she says, looking up at me.

“That was a lie,” I respond, sighing. “I think it is time I told you the truth about your mother, Princess.”

She sits up and stares at me, and her stare makes shivers run up and down my spine. Suddenly, that glow in her green eyes disappears, and more and more, she is becoming the photocopy of her birth mother, Janine.

Tell us: How do you think Mylah is going to react to hearing the truth about her mother?