Seeing Andy so upset was heartbreaking, yet beneath it all, an unsettling darkness lurked. He had no idea how malicious his family could be or what they might be willing to do. They never consulted him about his future; his father made decisions for him, with a cold detachment. He didn't want his son to become a teenage father with someone he looked down on—an invisible threat hanging over them. Why he despised my family remains a mystery, shrouded in shadows. I understand the tension between him and my grandfather; it all stemmed from his threat to my mother, which prompted my grandfather to investigate his illegal activities. But why did he harbor a grudge against us long before that? That was the question, lingering like a dark cloud.
"I know," I whisper. "It's a lot to take in." I mean, it's not every day you find out your uncle and father tried to kill your girlfriend who was carrying your child. He was handling it better than I thought he would.
"Roxanne, if I had known... I would have taken you and your mother and run. I would have protected you both," he says, turning towards me, eyes shining with grief and fury. I smiled through my tears because I believed he would have. My mom did what she thought was right to protect us. She was scared and young; she didn't want to risk reaching out to him and someone hurting him or us.
I had a hard time not thinking my family's misfortunes were my fault. If my mother had never gotten pregnant with me, would they all be here happily together? The more I thought about it, the more depressed I felt. These thoughts were doing me no good. I still had a spirit and two men who wanted me dead; I left no time for feeling sorry for myself. I shook the thoughts away and concentrated on Andy.
I stand wobbly, placing my hand on his arm, "You're in my life now, protecting me. That's all that matters." He pulls me into a fierce protective hug.
"You're staying here tonight. All of you. And no one—no one—will get close to you." His words made me want to cry again. Having my dad hug me was something I never thought would happen, but now I was in his protective arms, feeling relieved.
Zeke stands up beside us and says, "We'll keep her safe."
"We're not leaving her side," Donovan adds. Andy looks at everyone in the room; fear, determination, and love burning in his eyes.
"Then we face this together," Andy states. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I have people besides Zeke that I can count on—my family.
I feel safe with them surrounding me, but not because the danger is gone, but because I'm not facing it alone. Each one of them gave me the strength to face the evil that threatens us.
After the explanations, after the shock, the tears, and the long, heavy silence, the house finally settled into a fragile calm. Zeke and Donovan quietly step into the kitchen to make coffee and give us a little space. I could hear the low hum of their voices.
I remained on the couch, the journal resting on my lap, feeling like an extension of myself I couldn't live without. It also served as a meaningful connection to my grandmother, making me feel closer to her. Andy sits to my left, shifting on the couch slightly and resting his arm behind my head, while Sharon stays quietly on my right, lost in thought. Neither of them speaks, not because they lack words, but because they are trying to process everything I've just shared. It was a shock for all of us. Sharon gently reaches out, turning my head toward her and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, her touch soft and steady.
"Sweetheart," she says quietly, her voice warm but trembling at the edges. "I'm so sorry you must endure this. To carry the burden of this gift alone. I wish there were a way to share it with you." I smiled warmly at her because she has been so supportive since the day we met.
"I'm sorry to," Andy says, letting out a shaky breath. "I had no idea. Not about my father's part in this. Not about Elias or any of it."
"I know, Dad," I reassure him the best I can.
"What you told us is terrifying," Sharon says, shifting closer. "But I want you to hear something from me. You are not a burden. You are not cursed. And you aren't facing this alone. You have many people who love and care for you." She places her hand, resting lightly on my shoulder. I look over at her, holding her gaze, which was steady and full of love. My eyes are stinging with tears. My throat is tightening. Her words hit a part of my heart that needed to hear them, making some of the tension melt away.
"She's right. We all love you. So tonight, let us take care of you as parents should. You're staying here tonight—all of you. And we'll figure out the rest," Andy states firmly as he reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently.
"Thank you, I didn't want to go home. The only other place I could think of was here," which was true but also a lie. The house calls to me, my skin crawls the longer I'm away from it, but tonight it didn't affect me.
Sharon pulls me into a gentle hug; warm, grounding, familiar. It reminded me of my mom. I lean into her, letting my head rest on her shoulder. Andy places a hand on my back. We stay like that for a few minutes. Just enjoying their warmth.
"I know I can't change the past. I can't bring your mother or her family back. But I can protect you from my family and anyone else who threatens you," his voice was low and full of emotion.
For a moment, I close my eyes and let their presence settle around me like a blanket. For the first time tonight, I felt my body relax as Sharon continued to stroke my hair.
"You and Zeke can have the guest room. Donovan can take the couch," Sharon says. She had already brought a blanket and pillow out for Donovan; They were stacked neatly on the coffee table.
"Thank you," I say again, smiling weakly. Sharon kisses the top of my head as Andy squeezes my hand again.
"You don't have to thank us. You're our girl," Sharon says lovingly.
From the kitchen, Zeke's low and steady voice filters through, followed by Donovan's softer reply. The aroma of coffee wafts in the air as they come out with our cups refilled. We stay sitting, chatting, and savoring our coffee until I begin to yawn. Sharon hugs me again, laughing, then pulls back after a few moments to look at me.
"Get some rest, sweetheart. We'll face whatever comes next together." Her words were comforting. After she released me, Andy and Sharon finally got up and headed to bed, though neither looked like they'd sleep much. Uncle Donovan was already half asleep in the recliner, slightly snoring. I giggled at him.
Zeke and I went to bed with the journal clutched tightly. We were worn out from the day's events, and my body felt sore in ways I had never experienced before. All I wanted was a hot shower and a cozy, safe bed. The room was a decent size, connected to a bathroom. In the center stood a queen-size bed draped with a homemade quilt. The gentle scent of lavender filled the air, creating a calming atmosphere. It was perfect—safe, quiet, and exactly what I needed.
"You look exhausted," Zeke says as he closes the door behind us.
"I feel like I've been hit by a train," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing my arms. Zeke kneels in front of me, resting his hands gently on my knees.
"Let's relax and get some sleep," he says softly. I look at him and smile, nodding my agreement. Grandma's journal rests on my nightstand, drawing my gaze. It feels like it's calling to me-not urgently, but insistently like a whisper that won't be ignored.
"Hey, you want me to read another entry?" he asked. I nodded, grateful he offered. He climbs onto the bed beside me, leans against the headboard, and opens his arm up for me to snuggle against.
"Come here," he says gently. I don't hesitate and curl my body along his with my head on his shoulder, and his arm wraps securely around me. His warmth grounds me instantly. I open the journal, and the pages start fluttering again, stopping on a new page, as if it knows what I need to hear.
"Ok, Grandma, what've you got for us this time? Hopefully, teaching my girl how to use this gift safely," Zeke says as he gently takes the journal from me.
My Sweet Girl,
The gift is awakening, and you might feel overwhelmed — that's normal. Life might seem different, and it is. You could feel afraid, which is natural. When you accept your destiny, things will become clearer. You were born to carry this gift, as it is your legacy. However, remember: the gift was never meant to control you. It was designed to respond to you. To use it safely, you need to learn three vital lessons: grounding, breathing, and intention. Without them, you could face danger you're not ready for.
Later in the journal, I will explain how to use each one safely. Practice these steps before you attempt to encounter the spirits. Never go in unprepared. This gift is powerful, but you must remember you are stronger. And remember, my sweet girl, you are never alone.
Love, Grandma
Zeke leaned over and wiped a tear from my eye. Then he closes the journal, and I let the words wash over me. "Grounding, breathing, and intent," I kept repeating the words over and over in my head. Zeke must have noticed my distracted gaze because he placed the journal on the stand and looked down at me.
"Her words make sense. You were spiraling before because you didn't know any of this," Zeke says as he brushes a thumb along my arm.
"You're right. I didn't even know what was happening. I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess," I whisper.
"Rocky, it was my choice to stay, and I would choose it every time. You're not doing this alone," He says as he kisses the top of my head.
"Zeke, what if I mess this up somehow, or what if I hurt someone?" My eyes stung as I said the words. I was terrified someone I love would be badly hurt. I don't think I could live with myself if they were.
"Roxanne," Zeke says, tilting my chin up gently so I'm looking at him. "Listen to me. You just blasted an evil spirit across the room without meaning to. Just imagine what you could do if you meant to. You are so much stronger than you think, baby. We will figure this out together."
He's correct: believing in myself is the first step. As I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, I've made that decision. The soothing sound of his heartbeat, steady and warm, grounded me as the journal described. Zeke is my connection to this world—perhaps he's always been. My breathing aligns with his—slow, even, and secure. I'm half asleep before I hear him speak.
"Rest, Babygirl. We'll figure the rest out tomorrow," he whispers gently into my hair. And for the first time in days, I finally drifted off, not into fear, but in the warmth of someone who refused to let me face this darkness alone.