Nightfall ✓

Chapter 27

• chapter twenty-seven • 

The base of the laptop was hot against my thighs. I had been using it for the past three hours, taking a ten-minute break every now and then. My eyes were burning from lack of sleep. It was so tempting to let my eyelids flutter shut. The bed, with Liam wrapped up in the comforter, was so inviting. 

For a minute I closed my eyes and imagined myself getting into the toasty-warm bed with him. His arm would sleepily reach out and pull me closer to his body, and I would let my fingertips feel the smooth skin of his chest.

But no. I had work to do. I looked at him, dozing in the golden glow of the lamp. His face was peaceful. I got up to kiss his head, then returned to the laptop, my face immediately getting bathed in the blue light of the screen.

A crazy number of websites and clicks later, I found this one page where there were details of a woman named Rachel. There wasn't a photo anywhere. Apparently, she was a mediator and an exorcist. She had been dealing with paranormal entities ever since the death of her husband, which was twenty years ago, according to the site. I read further. She lived in New York too. I noted down her phone number. I couldn't call her right now because the noise would wake Liam up. Even if I went outside, the sound of the door opening would disturb him, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to tell him anything yet. I didn't want to get his hopes up and then see them getting crushed. I wouldn't be able to see his face when he realized that again we had failed to find a plan to save ourselves.

This was the reason I hadn't told anyone about my nightly research sessions, not Zack, not Ash. It had almost slipped out of my mouth when I had revealed my pregnancy to them. I had almost said, I want everything to be perfect when the baby comes, so I'm still trying to find a way to break the curse. Almost. But I didn't.

Since I couldn't call Rachel at that moment, I sent her an e-mail, sending my number and requesting her to call me, and explaining my problem. Then I shut my laptop and rubbed my eyes. It was 2 a.m. I took out my sketchbook and started drawing. This sketch was due tomorrow.

Liam was really worried about how hard I was working these days, trying to finish the course as soon as possible. I was rushing because I felt like I was running out of time. I could just about understand why Liam didn't want the baby: it was like our time had suddenly been cut short. There was now a deadline for achieving our dreams. If we wanted to do something extraordinary in this life, then it had to be within these nine — now eight — months, because after that the baby would be the priority.

Sometimes I wondered if I was right in making this decision. I had almost forced this decision on Liam. I had left him with only two choices: he could either give up on his dreams or give up on me. And I knew he didn't want the latter, because he loved me, and this just made me all the more guilty. But then I thought about the other choice I had, and that was abortion. That made me shudder.

I had started spending six hours studying, and every time Liam saw me with a book he would remind me, "You don't have to rush. You're doing this course for pleasure. You don't have to have a baby. You can still give it up," and I would respond with a villainous look. Just today we had squabbled about this. 

I kept sketching, calming myself down. Art was therapy for me. I channeled all my emotions into the lines I drew, focusing on the sound of pencil scratching against the paper. If only everything were as easy as sketching.

  ∞  

"Where are we going?"

"Hazel, no matter how many times you ask me this, I won't tell you."