The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon) novel Chapter 65

Thalia’s Pov

He cried the entire night, and the sad reality was that there were no words I could say to him in order to alleviate his humiliation. I understood why he was crying; he was frustrated with life, and he was nearing the end of his condition, which he had dreaded.

I couldn’t help but think it was my fault; I was the one who was putting him under pressure with my secrets.

Brandon’s condition was always linked to his emotions, so I thought to myself as I started crying, “I paralyzed him.” Maybe if I informed him about the machine, he’d be excited, but the machine wasn’t yet tested on animals or humans.

With his stubbornness, he would have put pressure on me to use it on him before it was ready and I would have killed him.

I was in a pickle, but instead of sobbing, I was supposed to be accelerating my progress so that if it worked I would break the good news to him.

The machine had to be put to the test. But I was too exhausted to even lift a cup and I had to put the baby into consideration; I needed to take a break, even if it was for an hour.

I leaped to my feet and checked on him before heading to my wardrobe and taking out my secret phone, which was the main reason he failed to monitor what I was hiding from him. Nestor had purchased the phone in secret and instructed me on how to conceal it. I was very sure Brandon had my original phone wiretapped.

I quickly sent Nestor a message and hid it back. If he was going to reply, he was going to reply on that line.

I updated him on Brandon’s condition and instructed him to hurry. Then I went back to my old phone and set my alarm at four o’clock, making sure that my headphones were connected. I didn’t want to wake Brandon up with my alarm.

I was in desperate need of sleep. It didn’t take long for the four and a half hours to pass before the alarm went off. I was exhausted, but I needed to start the second phase of my project.

I wiped my drowsy eyes and checked on Brandon immediately to make sure he wasn’t awake. I quickly showered before heading to the garage to begin testing with my mice. Monkeys would have been a better choice but I had no time.

Everything seemed fine at first until I started attaching the machine to the small bodies. I began with a low voltage that was capable of turning on the machine and compatible with a framework of mice.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I began recording the progress. It was time to turn on the blood circulation between the machine and mice bodies so that the cells would be filtered out.

I began raising the voltage, but the mice began to die even at voltages that were not human-compatible; it had nothing to do with the voltage, but rather with the professor’s theory that the blood output and the cells input were supposed to be in balance but wasn’t resulting in death due to a lack of blood in the body.

The mice went into anemia, shock, and finally death. I tried with over ten mice but each time I began the circulation, no matter how low the voltage, they all died.

I cried angrily, “I need it to work!” Brandon needed the machine, and I needed it to operate. I knew there was something wrong with what I was doing, but I didn’t know what it was. I needed to go through my notes again, but there was no time; Brandon had time, and going back meant three more months.

I sat defeated on the floor, certain that I had done everything correctly, but it was not to be. I failed, and maybe that’s why I was so adamant about not informing Brandon, since I knew I was going to fail.

How could I, since no one had ever invented anything like what I was trying to do and the professor was right, it was definitely humanly impossible.

I was hit with a brick wall with nowhere to turn, I sat there thinking and only the singing of birds brought me to reality. Brandon was probably awake and thinking I had left him when I looked up and discovered the sun was up.

I instantly pulled myself together and brushed away my tears, knowing that crying would never fix anything. I dashed back inside the house and found Brandon peacefully sleeping.

I climbed onto the bed and encircled him. I decided not to go to work, I couldn’t leave him like that. When he first opened his eyes, he needed to see me.

Nestor was correct; I was too preoccupied with trying to find a solution for him to remember to spend time with him. Suddenly he shifted his hand to the side and slowly turned to the other side. “Brandon,” I said as I felt him shift but I got no response.

“Brandon, you’re moving, oh my G*d,” I screamed with delight and hugged him even tighter. I could feel the baby kick, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

I tried to clasp his hand with my tummy in order for him to feel the baby, but he swiftly withdrew his palm away from my grasp. I pulsed for a minute and then cooled down for a minute before saying, “Sorry,” but received no response.

I looked over to check and found his eyes wide open, but he refused to look at me. I tried to put my arms around him, but he stopped me as if he didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

The room fell silent; perhaps telling him about the gadget would cheer him up, but on second thought, it would just worsen his attitude. What good would it do for me to share my concept after I failed?

If he was still interested in finding out what I was hiding from him then I would tell him about my failed project.

“Do you want something to eat?” I asked after clearing my throat and asking how he was doing but I got no response. It was followed by complete stillness.

I had no idea what to do, but certainly, if he had cleaned me, I would be crying as well but he was a man and needed to man up. Maybe I was being too friendly, so I slid off the bed, holding my belly, and into a chair, taking a seat next to him.