September 10, Tuesday
THE MORNING dawned grey and gloomy, matching my mood perfectly. I'd barely slept for Bruce's words echoing in my head. As I reached for my phone, a new text message flashed on the screen. My heart sank when I saw it was from Curtis.
Nice try getting your editor to pressure me. I won't back down. We both know the truth. Maybe if you'd been a better girlfriend, things would be different.
I fought the urge to hurl my phone across the room. After everything he'd done, he still had the audacity to blame me?
Fuming, I gathered my basket of eggs and headed into town. The routine task of selling them to Coleman felt like going through the motions, my mind a million miles away.
As I left the grocery, my feet carried me towards the library almost of their own accord. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was pushing open the heavy wooden door.
Tilda looked up from her desk, her eyes narrowing as she spotted me. "Now what?"
I took a deep breath. "I have... a problem. One that might require your particular expertise."
Tilda's eyebrow arched. "And what expertise would that be?"
I glanced around, lowering my voice. "I need a curse placed on someone."
For a moment, Tilda's carefully crafted disinterest slipped, revealing a flash of curiosity. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please," I pressed. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
Tilda studied me. "Hypothetically, if such a thing were possible, I'd need more specifics. Who is this person? What have they done?"
I wet my lips. "My ex-boyfriend is spreading lies, saying he wrote my books. It could ruin my career."
"I see." Her voice was neutral. "And what exactly do you hope to achieve with this... hypothetical curse?"
"I just want him to stop hurting me."
Tilda shook her head. "I can't help you. That's not how these things work."
My shoulders slumped. What had I been thinking? Curses weren't real. This whole idea was ridiculous. "Right. Sorry to have bothered you." I turned to leave.
"Wait."
I stopped, looking back. Tilda was scribbling something on a scrap of paper. "If you were serious about this, hypothetically, you'd need to gather these items."
She held out the paper. I took it, my hand trembling slightly as I read: beeswax, nettles, coneflowers, vivianite crystal, something he gave you .
I looked up, meeting Tilda's intense gaze. "And then what?"
"Then you'd come back here, and we'd discuss the next steps. But remember, magic always comes with a price. Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"
A shiver ran down my spine. Was I really considering this? But then I thought of Curtis's smug text, of the future he was trying to steal from me.
"I'll be back," I said firmly.
As I left the library, clutching the list in my hand, I felt a mix of excitement and dread. I was stepping into something I didn't fully understand, something potentially dangerous.
But if this was what it took to protect myself, to reclaim my life and my stories, then so be it.