what worried me in my dream-like state. That scary darkness from my dreams was all around me, enveloping me and keeping me hostage in my own body and mind. No matter how hard I tried to push and pry my eyes open, I couldn't move. Slowly, I started to panic, wondering whether I'd ever wake up and be my old self again.
I felt trapped, I felt bodiless. I felt panic rising inside me whether I'd ever wake up. I thought of my family, of what would happen to them if they heard I was gone. Gone, how final those words sounded. As if I was dead already. Was I dead?
I didn't know how long I lingered in that empty yet painful state, drifting in and out of consciousness. When my eyes finally fluttered open, I realized I was in my hotel room, propped up on a pillow in the middle of my bed. The clock on my nightstand showed it was already after 10 p.m. Gael sat beside me. When I stirred, he smiled and grabbed my hand. Something flickered in his eyes. It was the same dark shadow I had seen before, like a black flame lapping at dried wood, only this time my mind was fully operational and I knew I wasn't imagining things. I pulled back from him, but only a little.
"Hey, it's me," Gael said. "You were out of it for a while."
I swallowed and moistened my dry lips. "What happened?" My voice came low and hoarse, as though I hadn't spoken in days.
He held a glass of water to my lips and I took greedy gulps. The cool liquid soothed the scratchy sensation at the back of my throat. "You passed out from the heat."
I shook my head. "Something else must've happened. I remember the fortune teller starting her chatter, and then there was blackness." I shivered as I let my memories invade my mind. That was one scary place I never wanted to visit again.
"Trust me, it was the heat." Gael set his jaw, signaling the conversation was over. The black flame in his eyes flickered again. I finished my water and put the glass back on the bedside table.
"What did the fortune teller say?" I asked.
"What?"
I turned to face him. "She spoke for hours. I want to know what she said."
"Don't be ridiculous. When you passed out, we wrapped you in damp towels and I drove you home. You've been sleeping since the early afternoon." I peered at him. Somehow I knew he was lying, which didn't make sense. Why would he avoid telling the truth? Unless the woman had said something bad and he didn't want to upset me. I grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze, wondering why his skin felt cold as ice in spite of the smoldering heat outside.
"What did she say?" I persisted.
Ignoring my question, Gael got up and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Why don't you take a shower while I get us dinner? I won't be long, and don't take off the scarf."
I stared after him, perplexed. Something wasn't right. I could tell from the way he treated me. He had never been this brisk before. Gael wasn't the most open and talkative person, but he had never been this secretive, brushing me off for no apparent reason. Did I say or do anything wrong?
Eventually I got up and stripped off my clothes, leaving the scarf wrapped around my wrist, then jumped under the shower. I slumped against the cold tiles, letting the hot water trickling down every part of my aching body before I went about checking my arms for any bruises where I thought fingers had pressed into my skin. There were none.
I turned off the water tap and stepped out, wrapping a large towel around me. The mirror had misted over with steam. I swiped my hand across its smooth surface and regarded myself. My large blues eyes were hooded, as though I hadn't slept in ages. My hair hung in thick wet strands. And then, for a split second, I heard something: a scratching noise, like nails on a chalkboard, but so low I wasn't sure it had been there at all. I checked the door, which was closed, then went back to the mirror, figuring I was imagining things again. When I picked up my brush to comb my hair, I could see in the reflection of the mirror that the window had misted over as