Josh, dressed in a pinstripe suit, walked like an ogre towards the white crib and sent Alexa, his newborn baby with sleepy, emerald-green eyes, a heated look, clenching his fists. He stood stiffly, his short black hair slicked back. He didn’t look like a proud father; instead, he looked like a madman, ready to snap at any moment.

“Katherine, have you got a confession to make?” he asked gruffly.

Clad in a pale blue nightgown, I stopped winding the mobile that was hung over the crib. As fluffy white bunnies and lambs started to circle above my daughter’s head, dancing to the melody of “Rock-a-Bye Baby,” I blinked at my husband and asked, “Why the heck do you think I’ve got something to confess?”

He didn’t answer my question, just rolled his angry peepers. “I don’t have time for your bullshit,” he growled. “I’m late for work, and I have to do a shitload of paperwork this morning. I gotta go.”

“Well, have a good day,” I said, scowling inwardly, then forced myself to smile as he glared at me and stormed out of the nursery.

Jeez, he seemed pretty pissed off that Alexa didn’t resemble us. We were tall, dark, and Mexican, whereas Alexa was white and had auburn hair that was already an inch long. I knew that she hadn’t been switched at birth. My doctor had handed a crying, pale baby over to me in the delivery room, not a dark-skinned one. But I really didn’t care whether she looked like us or not, for I was very fortunate to have her.

My husband and I had moved to San Francisco three years ago and wanted to start a family. When I couldn’t get pregnant, I had gone to a medical center and been diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I’d learned that I had ovarian cysts, which had caused ovulation problems and infertility. I’d done a course of treatment for several months, but I hadn’t had any luck. But when Josh and I had thought about adopting a child, I had miraculously gotten pregnant.

Just then, I was jerked from my thoughts when the phone shrilled from my bedroom down the hall. About to head for it, I remembered I had a phone in the nursery. Its ringer was off so it wouldn’t wake up Alexa when she slept.

After darting towards the snow-white dresser, which was covered with several pastel-colored flower arrangements I had received right after Alexa’s birth, I grabbed the phone and answered it. “Hello.”

“Katherine,” Josh muttered in a gravelly voice as I heard the sound of traffic around him. He was driving to work.

“What’s wrong, honey?” My dark brows were drawn together.

“I have a lot on my mind, and I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate on my work today.”

“So, what’s troubling you?”

“You,” he snapped.

I ignored his hateful voice. “Honey, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, stop playing games, Katherine! I want you to come clean with me. You’ve been having an affair, haven’t you?”

Anger welled up inside me, and I lost my composure. “No!” I roared as Alexa’s eyes jolted open. She began to make agitated sounds while I added, “I would never cheat on you, Josh.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve never fucked around,” I shouted above Alexa’s shrill cries.

“I’m not blind. I can see that I’m not Alexa’s father. You’ve been fucking a white man. Who is it?”

I clenched the phone until my knuckles turned white. “I’ve never fucked anyone but you, asshole.”

Alexa was bawling so loud I couldn’t hear my husband anymore, but I really didn’t want to listen to him anyway. I turned to hang up the phone, but the receiver slipped from my shaky hand when I caught the flowers wilting, shriveling, and dropping their withered petals on the dresser.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I swear I saw a huge flame shooting out of the crib. Eyes wide, trembling with fear, I jerked my head toward Alexa, who was still bawling and flailing her tiny arms about, to find no fire whatsoever.

Wondering if my eyes had been playing tricks on me, I reached down to pick her up when something invisible shoved me backwards so hard I flew across the room and struck the wall as the wind was knocked out of me. My heart pounding, I gasped for breath, staring at my wailing baby. And to my complete horror, some tentacle-like flames suddenly erupted from her tiny fingertips, hit the white ceiling above, and slithered across it in all directions.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” I muttered with a gasp. I’d had a deep affection for Alexa, but now it began to melt away. I could not love a monster, was ashamed and angry that I had given birth to such an awful creature. Ugh, she would be a burden to me for the rest of my life.

Alexa McKay
Montana
June 21, 2003

I, Alexa McKay, had been living with Katherine in an old, dilapidated cabin in the northwestern corner of Montana for about twenty years. Encircled by a dense forest in the Purcell Mountains, the cabin had no modern conveniences, but at least it had a wood-burning stove to keep the house warm on chilly days.

My parents had gotten divorced when I was a baby. Katherine rarely talked about my father, but some time ago she’d revealed a snapshot of him. I didn’t look like him at all; in fact, I didn’t resemble my mother that much either. They had dark skin, smooth black hair, and brown eyes, whereas I had curly auburn hair, green eyes, and fair skin. I inherited my nose and ears from my mother, and we were about the same height. I was five foot seven, she about one inch taller than I. If I had not inherited some of my mother’s characteristics, I would have thought abduction. I still had a feeling that Josh wasn’t my biological father, but Katherine had always sworn that he was. I hoped I would find out the truth someday.

Ever since I was little, my mother had been working at a bed and breakfast in Libby, Montana. She still worked there, and I didn’t see her very often, which was fortunate since she liked sparring with me in her spare time.

I had a pyrokinetic gift, which was the crux of my problem. I should call it a curse, because it had always gotten me into trouble. There was a vessel, a special organ that produced liquid fire, inside me. I had known about it for years. It seemed like that information had popped into my head like magic. If I got really emotional, my vessel, which I usually called my inner fire, would absorb the energy from plants, release liquid fire into my bloodstream, and make my eyes turn red; then I could shoot flames out of my fingertips if I wanted to. But if I couldn’t control my emotions, my vessel would release too much liquid fire, and snakelike flames would pour out of me uncontrollably. It generally drained the energy from the forest; therefore, our cabin was encircled by a cluster of dead trees. I’d set the cabin on fire several times. I was damn lucky that I hadn’t burned it down.

It had been difficult to control my pyrokinetic gift when I was small. I would often leak fire, and my mother would inject me with a drug and lock me in my bedroom as a punishment. She’d had window bars installed so that I couldn’t escape. I would stay in my room for several days, and Katherine would rarely feed me. That would never have happened if I’d been a normal child. I had always wanted my mother to love me, to give me a warm smile and a hug. But that would occur when hell froze over.

My mother had forbidden me to venture into public places by myself. Occasionally, she took me to the grocery store, the gas station, and other local businesses, but she’d never allowed me to socialize with anyone. “A freak must stay away from people. I don’t want you to be a public menace,” Katherine had told me. Because of that, she’d actually taken the time to home-school me.