✧

As Elliot and Tate each grasped one of Ophelia's arms, hoisting her from the comfort of her bed, she felt the weight of her own body, a burden accentuated by the bulging evidence of her pregnancy. A huffed sigh escaped her lips, a testament to the struggle against gravity's persistent pull. "I'm the size of a planet."

Elliot's smile radiated warmth as he bent down, planting a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "You're beautiful."

A skeptical chuckle bubbled from Ophelia. "Don't lie. I'm fucking ginormous at six months."

Tate, indifferent yet pragmatic, interjected, "You are having twins."

Ophelia shot him a playful yet pointed glare, flicking her eyes in his direction. "You're not supposed to agree with me."

"Uh, Chad... what did we talk about?"

The room fell into a hushed stillness as the trio redirected their attention toward the unfolding exchange across the hall.

"Our babies, not my babies."

Chad's voice rang out, and Ophelia, perceptive as ever, furrowed her brows in response. A quick glance passed between Tate and Elliot, confusion etching itself onto her features.

"You know what? I can live with a red crib. It might actually be kind of fabulous."

A surge of determination propelled Ophelia to her feet, and she swiftly waddled to the bedroom door across the way, flinging it open. Elliot and Tate trailed behind, their presence flanking her like protective sentinels as they entered the room.

"I certainly didn't give either of you permission to decorate the nursery." Ophelia blinked, her arms folding across her chest as she looked up at Chad, who stood poised on a ladder.

The two men exchanged a brief glance before Chad took the lead in responding. "Let me break it down for you, sweetheart... This is our house, and we're having twins."

Ophelia, unimpressed, met Chad's gaze. A sarcastic smile played on her lips. "Oh, congrats. I didn't realize you got a surrogate. Let me guess, the nurse in the basement?"

Chad's irritation mounted as he descended the ladder, closing the distance between them. "No. No. A very human surrogate, Elvira. How kind of you to carry our babies."

Ophelia's face and arms fell in response to the revelation, rendering her momentarily speechless.

"You think you're going to steal our twins?" Tate stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the two men, arms crossed. "You pathetic homos couldn't steal the shit out of your own ass."

A shared glance of amusement passed between Ophelia and Elliot as they observed the unfolding scene. Chad, ignoring Tate's retort, chuckled and exchanged a glance with his husband.

"You know, a baby, even two, isn't enough to fix your shitty marriage," Ophelia declared, tilting her head to the side.

Patrick rose from his spot on the ground. "Don't get all snotty, sister. You'll be begging to babysit. As big as this place is, it does get very lonely."

"Babysit?" Ophelia scoffed. "Babysit my own kids?"

"Oh, honey. You really think you have the means to take care of them? You're a child," Chad smirked, fully aware of the impact his words were having.

"Watch it, you goddamn queen," Tate warned, drawing Chad's attention.

"Oh, I am quaking in my loafers. What are you gonna do?" Chad challenged, locking eyes with Tate. "Murder me?" With that, Chad climbed back up the ladder, resuming his decorating.

Ophelia's jaw clenched, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she swiftly exited the room, distancing herself from the escalating situation.

✧

Ophelia's leg bounced as a shaky hand brought a cigarette to her lips. She was well aware of the judgment surrounding her smoking habit, but with the weight of possibly carrying the antichrist, or even two, a couple of cigarettes seemed inconsequential compared to the stress she was enduring.

Constance finally made her way into the kitchen, responding to Ophelia's urgent call.

"My brown Betty turns to black Betty in 20 minutes. So, tell me what this is all about," Constance urged, shutting the door behind her and joining Ophelia at the island, lighting her own cigarette.

"I need help," Ophelia exhaled a plume of smoke. "You remember those two guys who lived here before us?"

"Frick and Frack?" Constance snickered, taking a drag from her cigarette. "How could I forget?"

"Well, they're upstairs, and they're planning on kidnapping my babies," Ophelia gestured dramatically with her hands before taking a long drag.

Constance's face shifted from amusement to irritation as she processed Ophelia's words. "Well, let me assure you that is never going to happen."

"I don't trust them," Ophelia shook her head, looking back up at Constance. "I called because I want to talk to Billie Dean."

"Billie Dean? About what?"

"Getting rid of ghosts. There must be a way."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Constance reassured, flicking the ash off the end of her cigarette.

✧

"So much pain here," Billie Dean remarked, extending her hand to sense the palpable darkness within the house. "So much longing and regret. Fear. Sadness. Guilt." The medium shifted her focus to Ophelia, who sat anxiously on the couch.

"And perversion," Constance chimed in. "Now, can you ferret out the fairies for us? I mean, that's our main concern at the moment."

"Targeting a particular spirit is going to be difficult. This is a very crowded house," Billie Dean began to explain.

"So what can we do?" Constance asked, resting her palms on the back of a chair.

"Somehow, we have to try and dislodge them from the paramagnetic grip of this place."

"The what?" Ophelia questioned, watching Billie Dean halt to a stop and stare down the hallway.

"The evil," Billie Dean glanced back at the young woman. "It's a force just like any other, Ophelia."

Ophelia held her stomach, slowly rising from the couch as she and Constance followed the medium into the dining room.

"Pure physics. Real and powerful. Created by events. Events that unleash psychic energy into the environment, where it's absorbed. Like the way a battery stores energy. You'll see it all the time in places like prisons or asylums. Negative energy feeds on trauma and pain. It draws those things to it. The force here in this house is larger than the many individual traumas. And it has a need. It wants to break through. It wants to move in our world. It's using those trapped between this world and the next as conduits."

"That's very interesting. But what do we do about the gays?" Constance grew impatient. "I mean, how do we get rid of them?"

"Oh, there might be a way. I can't promise..." Billie Dean suddenly stopped. Ophelia looked past Billie Dean to see Tate and Elliot standing in the archway.

"They can't be here."

"Billie Dean, that's my boy. That's Tate."

"We want to help," Elliot stated.

Billie Dean turned her head just enough to look at the two men. "You've helped enough."

"It's okay. Go," Ophelia forced a smile, motioning her hands for them to leave. They shot her a sad look before departing. Ophelia, noticing the tension and confused by what Billie Dean said, asked, "What was that about?"

Constance chuckled nervously. "It's just that sometimes when a medium meets a spirit so directly, it has a powerful effect. That's all. It's nothing to concern yourself about." Constance then turned her attention to the medium. "Okay, so what can we do?"

"It's difficult to banish a spirit, but not impossible. The most successful attempt that I know of happened when America was known as the New World."

"That was like 500 years ago," Ophelia sighed.

"Spirits do not follow our physical laws, nor are they affected by time. About the only thing they have in common with the living is their suffering—regret, pain, loneliness."

"In 1590, on the coast of what we now know as North Carolina, the entire colony of Roanoke—all 117 men, women, and children—died inexplicably. It became known as the Ghost Colony because the spirits remained. They haunted the native tribes living in the surrounding area, killing indiscriminately. The elder knew he had to act. He cast a banishment curse. First, he collected the personal belongings of all the dead colonists. Then they burned them. The ghosts appeared, summoned by their talismans. But before the spirits could cause them any more harm, the elder completed the curse that would banish the ghosts forever."

"How?" Ophelia asked.

"By uttering a single word," Billie Dean explained. "The same word found carved on a post at the abandoned colony. Croatoan."

"So now you know what you have to do," Constance added, looking at Ophelia.

✧

Ophelia entered her bedroom, a hand protectively cradling her stomach, and noticed Tate pacing, while Elliot nervously bounced his leg from his perch on her bed. Both of them turned their attention to her.

"What'd she say?" Tate asked, both boys walking up to her.

"We have to get something of his. Something important, like a ring or a talisman," Ophelia explained. "If we have a talisman, then we do a special ritual, and he'll be gone. They'll be gone."

"That sounds like bullshit." Tate shook his head before turning away from her.

"Billie Dean's for real. She knows about this kind of thing," Ophelia urged, trying not to be offended by his attitude.

"We should at least give it a chance, Tate," Elliot added, as Tate paced around the room. "The bigger guy wears a wedding ring."

"I don't trust her!" Tate raised his voice, turning to them. "And why'd she say all that stuff about me and Eli?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Ophelia scoffed, growing upset. "Don't pretend like you don't know."

"Phi..." Elliot tried to settle the situation.

"No. You know what? I'll do it myself." Ophelia threw up her hands in defense before leaving the room.

✧

After Ophelia sneakily stole Chad's watch, Elliot and Tate delivered Patrick's wedding ring.

"I'm sorry for earlier," Tate mentioned, brushing a hair out of her face.

Ophelia stared up at him, searching his eyes before forcing a smile. "It's okay."

"Let's get rid of those assholes," Elliot nodded, ready for what comes next.

Ophelia turned her attention to him. "I got this," she reassured, holding both objects in her hand before making her way down into the basement. She moved through until she came upon the furnace, staring at the fire for a moment before tossing the objects in.

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?"

Chad's voice startled her, urging her to turn toward him.

"Is that my twelve thousand dollar watch you're putting into the furnace?" Chad grew irritated.

Ophelia clenched her jaw before yelling out. "Croatoan! Croatoan! Croatoan!"

Chad began to shake, looking as if the words were affecting him. Ophelia let out a sigh of relief until Chad burst out laughing. Ophelia's mouth fell open in shock.

"Just kidding," Chad smirked. "Where'd you get that one? The press-on nail psychic that was here earlier? I mean, really? The Roanoke spell? Please tell me that you'll be slitting the neck of a chicken next because I always found that really dramatic. I also quite enjoy the burning of sage to rid the house of spirits."

"It didn't work," Ophelia breathed out.

"Of course it didn't work," Chad shook his head. "It's bullshit. It's all bullshit. People make up these spells and chants in order to feel like they're in control. Well, guess what? They're not. Never have been." Chad reached down and picked up a piece of what Ophelia assumed was a broken-apart crib.

"What are you doing?" Ophelia asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"My own bullshit ritual," Chad snapped the leg in half, tossing it into a pile. "There's not gonna be any nursery." Chad let out a sigh. "We're not gonna be parents. Your babies are safe. From us, at least. I'm doomed to spend eternity with a man that doesn't love me. Of course, it could be worse. Your men do love you... but they'll always be monsters."

"You're wrong," Ophelia frowned, "They've changed."

"Oh, when did they change? When they murdered me? When they murdered my boyfriend?" Chad looked down at her, watching her reactions. "Or did they change when they got you pregnant to gift to Nora?"

Ophelia froze, her heart sinking into her stomach. She swallowed hard. "What... No, you're lying."

"Am I?"

✧

Ophelia frantically moved throughout the house, tears staining her cheeks as she forced herself to maintain her breath. Sobs wracked her body as she searched for her car keys. She berated herself for being so stupid to trust them. It was their plan all along.

Clarity had taken hold, and she hated how truly blind she was. She was willing to do anything for them. She hated that she thought her babies would be safe here, that they could be a family. She was wrong. She needed to save herself, but most importantly, her babies. That's all that mattered to her.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Elliot's voice startled her as both boys materialized behind her, making her jump in fear.

Ophelia turned to them, trying to catch a breath between her sobs. "Is it true?"

"What are you talking about, Opie?" Tate shook his head, confused.

Ophelia grew angry, her bottom lip quivering as she pushed them away from her. "Did you purposefully get me pregnant and promise my babies to Nora?"

Both boys stood frozen in shock, both unable to manage a word.

Ophelia nodded, frowning as her eyes finally landed on her keys. She pushed past them, grabbing the keys and storming out of the house. Both boys followed her, pleading with her.

"Ophelia, please," Tate cried out.

"Stay away from me," Ophelia warned, shooting them a glare as she struggled to unlock the car.

"We told her she couldn't have our babies," Elliot tried to explain.

"My babies," Ophelia spat. "My babies." Through her sobs, she felt an intense pain in her abdomen. She cried out in pain, clutching her stomach. Both boys rushed to her side as she slowly fell to her knees. "Don't touch me!" She cried out, placing her palms on the grass as she felt an intense contraction.

"Ophelia?" Constance ran into the front yard, pushing past Tate and Elliot. "Are- Are the babies coming?" The older woman placed a hand on her back.

"It's too soon," Ophelia sobbed. "It's too soon."

"When a child is ready to be born, there's no stopping it," Constance stated, trying to help her up off the grass. "We got to get you to the house."

"No," Ophelia pleaded. "No. Please."

"Phi, let us help you," Elliot urged.

"Shut up!" Ophelia screamed, finally standing up with the help of Constance. A car pulled into the driveway, her father urgently climbing out.

"What's going on?" Joey asked frantically, grabbing onto his daughter's free arm to help hold her up.

"The babies are coming," Tate shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes.

"Daddy, daddy. Please. I can't go back in that house," Ophelia urged.

"Baby, we have to," Joey soothed, causing Ophelia to shed more tears as they carried her inside. Constance and Joey laid her gently onto the couch as she cried out in pain.

"Just breathe, honey," Constance tried to soothe her as Joey struggled to get a hold of an ambulance.

"There's no service," Joey breathed out, not knowing what to do.

"I have to go to the hospital. Please," Ophelia urged.

"It's too late for that. You're already crowning," Constance explained.

"I'm gonna call Dr. Garrett. We'll get you an ambulance right away," Joey promised before making his way out of the room. Ophelia cried out in pain, unsure if it was supposed to be this painful.

"Breathe, Ophelia. Breathe," Constance reminded as Tate nervously bit his fingernails in the corner of the room.

"It hurts."

"Of course it does, honey. That's a woman's curse," Constance stated as Dr. Montgomery materialized, setting up his station.

"What's happening?" Ophelia watched as he checked her, noticing a nurse from the basement as well.

"Where are those towels?" Dr. Montgomery asked the nurse, ignoring Ophelia.

Ophelia's vision began to blur, the pain overwhelming her.

"Spread them out underneath her."

Her world was clouded with pain, and all she wanted was her father. "Daddy!"

Ophelia screamed out in pain as her father moved to kneel beside her, taking her hand in his. "It's okay, baby," he soothed as the nurse wiped away sweat forming on his daughter.

"Do you have a little something?" Constance asked the doctor.

"Ether."

"Just to take the edge off."

Ophelia's eyes clouded, looking off into the distance as they placed a mask over her mouth. Before the medication took hold, she saw a young girl standing in the corner of the room, a girl she had never seen before. She couldn't have been more than a few years younger than her, but before she could question, she felt another contraction and whimpered in pain.

"You're doing great, you're doing great," Joey ran his fingers across her head.

"One more push."

"Just breathe, honey, remember your breathing."

A baby's cries echoed throughout the space. "A healthy baby boy."

The room was spinning as Ophelia listened to her baby's cry. A smile made its home on her face. "Can I hold him?"

Constance came into view as she stood above Ophelia. "No, not just yet, sweetheart. You got another one coming." Almost instantly, Ophelia felt another contraction, causing her to howl in pain.

"I need forceps now!" Dr. Montgomery ordered.

"What's happening?"

"It's dystocia. I have to manipulate the baby through the pubic symphysis."

"I can't, Daddy. I can't do it," Ophelia wept.

"Look at me, you can do this."

"Dr. Bishop, have your daughter stop pushing until I say so."

"Ophelia, can you hear me?" Joey turned his attention to his daughter, watching her in pain. "You have to stop pushing."

Ophelia shouted in pain as she did her best to hold back from pushing, squeezing onto her father's hand and almost crushing it.

"Now, Dr. Bishop."

"Push!"

Ophelia gripped onto the couch, using all of her might to push out her second baby.

"He's coming!"

"He's ripping me apart!" Ophelia yelled, throwing her head back.

"Don't stop, angel. The end is in sight. I can see him," Constance encouraged.

After a few painful pushes, the sound of a baby's cry encased the room once again, and Ophelia slumped into the couch, a breath of relief escaping.

"You did it," Joey grinned, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Ophelia began to feel weak, every fiber in her body feeling like it was being pulled down.

"Is everything alright?"

"She's bleeding. I have to stop the bleeding."

"Can I see the baby?" Ophelia asked but was ignored.

"I'll get him washed up. I'll bring him right back."

Ophelia's world felt like it was teetering, vision fading in and out.

"Doctor, is everything alright?"

"Nurse, I need pressure on this."

"What the hell is going on?"

"She's going into shock. I can't stop the hemorrhaging."

"Ophelia, stay with me."

"Phi." Ophelia's eyes trailed behind her father to see Tate and Elliot standing behind him. "They're beautiful," Elliot whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

"Ophelia, listen to me. Concentrate on my words."

"It's okay, Opie." Tate forced a smile. "If you're in pain, let go."

"I don't think I have a choice." Ophelia whispered.

"Hold on, Ophelia. Stay with me."

"Let go."

"Don't die."

All feeling seemed to slip from her grip, like ephemeral wisps escaping into the ether. In that moment, there was no trace of sadness, no lingering tendrils of anger. Instead, a profound sense of tranquility enveloped her, as if the weight of the world had lifted, leaving only the gentle embrace of peace.

She found herself adrift in a sea of tranquility, the usual tumult of emotions reduced to a distant murmur. It was not an emptiness but a harmonious quietness that resonated within her.

✧

Ophelia blinked her eyes open, feeling a peculiar emptiness enveloping her as she took in her surroundings. The familiar contours of her bedroom greeted her senses, and her fingers instinctively gripped onto the sheets, registering the tangible texture beneath her touch. The ethereal transition into the afterlife had left everything unchanged, yet a strange and all-encompassing essence permeated the air, underscoring the otherworldly nature of her existence.

Descending the steps, she entered the kitchen to find Constance cradling one of her babies, a scene observed by Tate with an expression that eluded easy interpretation. Their gazes shifted toward Ophelia as she approached, and a bittersweet smile graced Constance's face. Ophelia ventured further into the room, and with delicate care, Constance transferred the baby into her waiting arms.

"He has your eyes," Constance remarked, the melancholic timbre of her voice conveying a depth of understanding. Ophelia looked down at her son, her lips forming into a vibrant smile as she drank in the sight of his precious features. Holding him close with her left arm, she used her spare hand to trace a gentle line against his velvety cheek.

"Hi," Ophelia whispered, her voice a tender murmur. "I'm your mommy." Tears welled up in her eyes as she marveled at the tiny miracle in her arms, a profound sense of connection blossoming within her.

Constance, recognizing the weight of the moment, gently intervened. "Have you thought of any names?"

Ophelia tore her gaze away from her son to meet Constance's eyes. "We only had one picked out for the other baby. I thought I had more time... Do you have any ideas?" Despite being twins, each baby had carried a distinctive energy, and Ophelia sought a name that would encapsulate the essence of this precious new life.

"I quite like the name Michael," Constance suggested with a thoughtful smile.

"Michael." Ophelia echoed, her voice infused with a mix of tenderness and reverence as she looked back down at her baby cradled in her arms. "Welcome to the world, Michael."

The moment gained depth as Elliot walked into the room, holding her other baby in his arms. Ophelia turned to Tate, her gaze transmitting a silent request as she extended her arms, offering their second son to him. With a gentle touch, Tate accepted the baby into his embrace.

"He was with Nora," Elliot explained, his words carrying a weight of both challenge and triumph. "I talked her into giving him back."

A sigh of relief escaped Ophelia's lips, gratitude etched across her face as her eyes met with her firstborn. Supported by Elliot, Tate cradled their son, bridging the gap between uncertainty and newfound security.

"What's this one's name?" Constance inquired, her eyes attentively fixed on the unfolding tableau.

"Josiah," Elliot responded with a radiant smile, his presence hovering over Ophelia's shoulder as they collectively admired the newborn. "After my grandfather."

"That's a beautiful name."

"Josiah and Michael." Ophelia managed a soft chuckle. "How biblical."

As she gazed down at little Josiah, Ophelia delicately brushed the baby's brown hairs on the top of his head. Her attention shifted to Elliot, who beamed with pride at the mention of their son resembling him. Tate moved closer, joining the tableau, and all three stood together, taking in the profound moment as they welcomed the newest additions to their unconventional family. Ophelia looked between her babies, a surge of newfound maternal instincts taking root within her.

"Constance, do you think you could watch over them tonight?" Ophelia pleaded, her gaze seeking solace in the older woman's eyes. "It's not safe for them here."

Constance met her gaze with a stoic nod. "Of course."

Ophelia pressed a loving kiss on Josiah's forehead, a bittersweet mixture of affection and apprehension playing on her features. With a determined resolve, she handed the baby to Constance. Turning to Tate, she repeated the tender gesture, placing a kiss on Michael's forehead before he found his place in his grandmother's waiting arms.

As Constance left with the babies, a palpable silence enveloped the kitchen, leaving the trio in a contemplative stillness. Ophelia sighed heavily, settling onto a stool at the island. The boys took their places on the opposite side, their eyes fixed on her, anticipating the conversation that loomed ahead.

"I just want to know why," Ophelia began, her gaze drifting down to her hands as she absently picked at her nails.

"It's true that we promised Nora a baby... we promised her that we could give her one when the next people moved into the house. And that was the plan in the beginning, but then we actually got to know you, Phi. On Halloween, I had changed my mind, but then it kind of happened, and that's why I left... I felt so guilty; you have to understand," Elliot explained.

"Me too. I just wanted to take you on a date. I wasn't expecting anything from you. We both had agreed that that wasn't the plan anymore, but then you actually got pregnant, and we didn't know what to do," Tate added.

"When we found out that you were, the first thing we did was tell Nora the plan was off," Elliot clarified.

The room held a heavy silence as Ophelia processed their words, her eyes lifting to meet the gaze of the two men before her. They shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the uncertainty and vulnerability in her heart.

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Ophelia questioned, her gaze oscillating between both boys, eyes glistening with emotion.

"You don't," Tate admitted, a furrow forming on his brow. "But that's everything, I swear. You know everything."

Ophelia held their gaze, contemplating the sincerity of their words, and the possibility of forgiveness. "No more killing."

"Honestly..." Tate began, a somber honesty in his voice. "I've felt this darkness inside of me for a really long time, but I don't feel it anymore."

"Me too," Elliot affirmed, sharing a meaningful look with Tate. "I always felt out of control, but the feeling is gone."

Ophelia took a deep breath, the weight of the moment heavy in the air.

"Okay."

✧