Page 46 of A Touch Of Death

"I'll take care of it, love. Get all the rest you can."

With one last kiss, Mom shuffles her way to the bedroom, leaving my smiling dad in the kitchen, watching after her with the strongest love I've ever seen before.

Quietly, Mom shuts her bedroom door, probably trying to make sure she doesn't prematurely wake Li-li from her nap. With a groan, she drops to the bed and shimmies until she's laying back and surrounded by pillows. She sighs with contentment as she rubs a hand over her belly. "Not long now, my baby girl. In just four weeks you'll be in my arms to smother with kisses and love with every star in the sky."

As she drifts off to sleep, hugging her bump in a way only someone completely besotted could do, the mist changes, and a new scene appears.

Mom is crying, gripping her still-rounded belly with little me inside her womb. She's being wheeled into a hospital, my father pushing her carefully but quickly through the halls while fat tears drop from Mom’s chin. There's blood on Mom’s hands and the grey leggings she wore to sleep, bloodied handprints left on the once white shirt she clutches under her palms.

With sickening comprehension, I realise I'm witnessing my mother going into labour too early.

Nurses surround her, and she's rushed into a room, the door slamming shut while I stand just outside of it. My face reflects off the shine of the window in the door, and I'm not surprised to see the stricken look I wear. My eyes are red-rimmed, and my cheeks are hollow. Pale-faced and sickly looking, I back away from the door shaking my head.

With a whisper that sounds ethereal in this place, I say, "I don't want to see this. Please don't make me see my mom-"

A choked cry passes through my lips, and I shake my head harder, bending over until my face is parallel to the floor as I clutch my stomach tightly.

When I lift my head again, the entire scene has changed. No longer am I standing outside of the door, more like looking at it from the inside. I make to turn my head, but I find that I can't. My movements aren't my own any longer, my vision and hearing belonging to someone inside the hospital room. I'm nothing but a bystander to someone else's mind, forced to hear thoughts that aren't mine and feelings that don't belong to me. Quickly, I realise it's my mom.

Exhausted, I look at the door, feeling something that draws my attention there. Like a swift familiar tug that commands my attention. After hours of trying to get my baby girl to leave the home she's built for herself over the last eight months, I can do nothing but loll my head to the side to look at the door that stands between me and something that feels like a part of me.

A sharp pain pulls my attention away, and Francis squeezes my hand tighter when I cry out, muttering soothing notions in my ear while he tenderly brushes my sweat-coated hair away from my face. The nurses have told me I've been in labour for going on thirty-seven hours now, and there's still no sign of my little babe. She's stubborn, I'll give her that. But that's okay because I know she'll be worth it. My girls are worth everything.

My energy is waning, and exhaustion seeps into me, burrowing deep under my skin until it reaches my bones. Once the pain dulls down again, my head drops to the pillow behind me. I'm breathing heavily, and my eyelashes flutter as if to close. Sounds begin to merge together, the beeping of machines dulling to an irritating buzz. I can hear Francis' voice talking beside me, but I can't make out his words. I can make out the slight urgency to his tone, but nothing beyond that. I'm just so tired now.

My eyes close and snap open again when I feel the familiar tug. My head moves towards the door, and my hand shakily lifts towards my belly, taking the last of my energy with the movement. The strength in the familiarity grows, but exhaustion begins to drag me under, and my hand slips from my belly.

Sounds fade, my vision grows fainter and fainter, and everything around me begins to numb. Maybe sleeping for only a minute won't hurt. I'll just close my eyes for a minute to rest, and then I'll get back to pushing.

Just a minute...

One... small... minute...

As hour thirty-seven comes around, my eyes close, and everything falls away into darkness.

When I open my eyes next, I'm surrounded by a large expanse of emptiness. In the middle of that emptiness is a woman cloaked in a sleek robe. She wears the hood over her head, shadowing her eyes and nose. I see strands of glossy black hair that pool from underneath her hood but are only noticeable on the extremely pale column of her throat.

"Excuse me? Who are you? Where am I?" I ask, lifting my hands to rub over my belly, something I've grown to doing a lot of over the last few months. Only, when I do, my hands meet my flat stomach. Panic rises, and I rub at my belly, hoping I'm delusional from drugs and exhaustion, and that my baby is still where I knew she'd been before falling asleep.

"Calm, child. You are in the Midway, a space between the living and the dead. Here is where you will be given a choice, one that will hold grave consequences no matter what you decide, yet one path will hold a greater meaning than the other. Who I am does not matter, but your choice does. What you decide next will alter the course of the life you are currently hovering within reach of."

What? What is she talking about? "I don't understand what you mean. Where's my baby? What have you done with my baby girl?"

"I've done nothing with your child. She lays in your womb suspended between life and death while you make your decision. Time is not on our side, Camelle. I must ask of you something great, but a choice must be made," the woman tells me, stepping closer until she's just an arms reach away from where I stand gripping my shirt.

I shake my head, looking down at my flattened stomach. What is happening right now? I was giving birth to my second daughter, and now I'm here? How? How did I get from the hospital room to here? I look back up to the stranger before me. "What decision? I don't understand what's happening right now. How did I get here? What choice do I have to make?"

The stranger before me lifts her hand and drops her hood. I suck in a lungful of air and lift my hand to cover my parted mouth. What would be considered a truly stunning woman stands in front of me, skin paler than the moon, flawless and unblemished. Her features are perfectly symmetrical, only adding to her beauty. However, her eyes are what have me gasping with shock. Where there should be eyes is nothing. Complete emptiness, dark and eerie. I fear that if I spend too much time looking, they'll suck me into their endless depths, and I'll be lost to roamthe darkness alone for all of eternity.

"I am the Keeper of Sacrifice. You're here because you have an important decision to make that will impact the future greatly, a decision thatmustbe made. I must ask you to choose between two evils. I'm truly sorry, Camelle."

What? Why is she apologising? And why does she look so troubled? Even with her eyes empty, they hold a great deal of a sorrow I don't understand. I need to understand!

Frustrated, I roughly run a hand through my hair. I look around and see no way out, only darkness. Facing the Keeper, I say, "What's the question? Ask me."

The Keeper nods her head and steps closer, raising her hands to reveal two items. In her left is a chalice filled with a dark liquid that resembles blood. In her other hand sits a small crystal bowl with clear liquid. She balances them perfectly in her palms as she holds them before me.

With a voice tinged with sadness, she asks her question. "Your life or your unborn daughter’s?"

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