These were familiar faces I loved and wished I had more time with: my mom and her parents. Seeing them together is a sight that will be ingrained in my memory forever. A smile lights up my face as I settle into the empty chair, feeling a sense of belonging. To my left, my mom sips her coffee with gentle familiarity. She looks peaceful and happy. Which was comforting, while on my right, my grandmother looked at me with a warm, loving smile; it felt like she was trying to memorize everything about me since she had never been able to before. It was both nice and uncomfortable. Across from me, my grandfather sat tall, appearing less intimidating than in his photos. Strangely, Uncle Donovan resembled him remarkably—sharing his jawline, build, and height, no way grandpa could have ever denied him. I wonder if Samuel also resembles him. Seeing my grandparents in my dreams feels surreal; I often wonder how different life might have been if our fates had only been different.
All of their eyes were suddenly trained on me. It felt like they were staring into my soul as I tried to understand why they had come to me again in my dream. Don't get me wrong, I was enjoying being able to sit in their presence, even if only in a dream, which fills me with warmth and nostalgia. Everything feels right just by being in their presence. Yet, a lingering question remains: why are they here? In every dream beforehand, there was an important reason for their visits. It didn't seem like they came to warn me about danger, unlike previous dreams. No frantic rushing, no ominous warnings-just a calm presence. These thoughts stirred my curiosity further. Again, why are they here? What is the message behind this visit?
Silence continued, as if everyone had something to say, but no one was willing to speak. They all just kept passing looks back and forth, as if they were having a conversation just with their facial expressions. It was unnerving. The longer the silence went on, the more suffocating it felt to sit under their stares. When my nerves couldn't take the suspense of waiting any longer, I broke the silence first.
"Is everything ok?" I asked, even though I dreaded the answer. "I'm going just to assume everything is fine, or you would have warned me by now," I babbled, and judging by the calm atmosphere, they didn't notice it.
"Everything is fine," a deep male voice states. Initially, I am surprised because no one had spoken aloud. As I scan my surroundings, I realize that only my grandfather could have been the source. I wonder how his lips didn't move, yet I heard his voice— in my head—so clearly. Just as I'm about to ask if anyone else heard it, my mom's voice suddenly fills my head.
"Sweetheart," my mom voices, is the next thing I hear. "We need to talk about your uncle Samuel and your aunt Betty," she stated.
"Whoa, wait a minute, why can I only hear your voices inside my head, but you're not actually speaking? This is freaking me out," I say to no one in particular, hoping someone has an answer.
"Roxy, we need to stay focused," was Grandma's response to my momentary freak-out. Looking in her direction, I nod, trying to reign my feelings in.
"They are still alive," Grandpa states, which leads me to my next question.
"How do you know they are?" I asked. My curiosity was getting the better of me. They always knew things before they happened. It made me wonder how the afterlife works.
"We just do," was Grandma's response to my question, shutting down any more I might have had. However, that was too vague for me and only incited my need to know more.
"Honey, listen to your grandparents. Now is not the time for interruptions or questions. We only have so much time," Mom pleaded. Again, I nodded and let them continue speaking.
"That fateful night, we saw Donovan get them out the back door before the intruders even noticed, then he went upstairs to get your mom safely out. They were so focused on us, they never saw him," Grandpa rushed to explain.
"Everyone got split up that night, and no one knew the others' fates," Grandma said tearfully. "We hoped the children would reunite and help each other, but obviously in some cruel twist of fate it never happened," she sobbed. Grandpa even had tears in his eyes as he listened to his wife speak so emotionally about their children. He reached across the table to grab her hand and squeeze it tightly. She smiled up at him through her tears. You could tell they loved each other deeply.
"We want to help Donovan bring you and the others back together as a family," Mom insisted.
"Tell him to investigate not only foster care but adoption records for Samuel and Betty Menton—the names I used on their fake paperwork. Also, make sure he looks into the surrounding towns and not just ours. If they had escaped, they may have gone to another town for safety reasons," Grandpa said in a voice that was firm but caring. This would be a valuable lead for Donovan, providing a starting point. My only response was to nod, feeling the weight of the moment, and to promise to call him first thing in the morning to relay the information, knowing this could change everything for my family. My heart ached knowing all four siblings were separated from each other due to a fate beyond their control.
Not long after they relayed their worries, Mom told me they needed to leave now; they had stayed longer than they were supposed to. She wouldn't elaborate on what that statement meant. It was hard to say goodbye and see their retreating figures as they walked away, disappearing in the distance. I wanted to race after them and bring them home with me, but I knew it would never happen. Tears welled up in my eyes, only letting go after they disappeared. The ache of loss settled deep, making me wish I could hold onto that moment longer, feeling the weight of their absence.
My body suddenly jolted awake, and I gasped loudly. Zeke looked at me with concern, and once he saw I was crying, he quickly sat up and pulled me into his arms for comfort. We didn't say anything; he held me, gently rubbing my back and kissing the top of my head. He kept holding me until my crying subsided, then gently wiped away my tears.
After he calmed me down, he asked what caused me to cry in my sleep and wake up with more tears. Given previous events, he must have thought something was wrong, serving as a warning. It took me a few minutes to compose myself before I explained that those were happy tears because my grandparents and my mom were together in the afterlife. No more worries about her being lonely; her parents were guiding her. Additionally, hearing my grandparents talk, even if only in my head, was special. This interaction makes me wish they had been part of my life as a child. Someone took that happiness from my family and me. I am determined to find the person who killed my grandparents and destroyed our family.
When we made our way down to the kitchen, Andy and Sharon were already awake, cooking breakfast. They had just set the last dish on the kitchen table when we walked in.
"Perfect timing, sleepyheads, breakfast is ready," Sharon told us. Smiling, we quickly sat down at the table.
"Sorry, I had another dream last night and woke up crying," I explained.
"Was it another warning, or what happened?" Andy asked, concerned about me. It was still unknown whether they thought my dreams were delusions. If they did, it was never shown; they only gave me undeniable support.
"Actually, it was a good one this time. Mom and my grandparents approached me to discuss Samuel and Betty. Grandpa asked me to inform Uncle Donovan about the names they might be using," I explained. After telling them more details about the dream, we resumed eating in silence. It seemed like everyone needed a minute to digest the information.
Once everything was cleaned up, I stepped out to the front porch and called Uncle Donovan. He seemed surprised to hear from me, but was stunned when I relayed the message from last night. At first, he didn't seem to believe what I was saying. The more details he heard, the more he realized I was telling the truth. Finally, he agreed to look for them under those names and check out neighboring towns, too. Of course, I would also verify the information. It wasn't that Uncle Donovan was untrustworthy; on the contrary, he was one of the few people we trusted. I just needed to do this to soothe my mind. After these past months, the key lesson we learned is not to trust everyone, but to keep our circle of trust small. We have Zeke's parents, Donovan, Andy, and Sharon so far. He said he would pass them on to Agent Williams, since he was helping look for them when he reached our house. At first, what he said didn't register until the line went dead. Pulling the phone from my ear, it clicked; he must be on his way to our house now. How far out was he, I wondered.
As I slid my cell phone into my jeans, I heard footsteps in the driveway. Looking up to see Ted standing in front of me with hatred seething out of his eyes. Instantly, my skin broke out in goosebumps; it happened every time he came around. He creeped me out; there was just something not right about him. We stood staring at one another in a standoff. Neither of us is budging, nor are we willing to back down. Finally, he spoke.
"You think you're pretty clever. Don't you?" he said nastily.
"I have no idea what you are spewing about now. Do me a favor and stay on your side of the street," I smarted off. It was probably a stupid thing to do, but at this point, I was not putting up with any more overbearing men. The sheriff was bad enough; throw Ted into the mix, and it was a nightmare. Ted was shocked at first; he must have thought I would cower from his menacing presence or nasty words. He was wrong. No matter how scared I am, I will never back down.
"You know exactly what I'm saying," he stated cockily. "He's not going to let this go?" He laughed. He was enjoying taunting me. The air around us seemed to change eerily. He was acting crazy.
"Who, Ted? Who is behind this?" I asked, hoping he would slip up and give me a clue to whom I'm up against. Instead, he got mad and reached out, wrapping his large calloused hands around my neck, squeezing. Frantically, I was clawing at his hands to get him to release me, gasping for air. My body felt like a prison at the moment. No words would come out, only weird sounds, because of the lack of oxygen. My vision started to become blurry, my lungs felt like they were on fire, and my body started to give out. No one must have heard me struggling inside, oblivious to the chaos. As blackness began to take over my vision, I apologized to my loved ones who were alive for leaving them, and to my mom and grandparents for not finishing what I had started. As I say the last word in my head, air rushes back into my lungs as my body hits the rough gravel driveway.
Looking through my eyelids, barely keeping consciousness, I looked at Ted one last time. He was as white as a ghost as he looked at the person who pulled him off of me. At least they got him before he killed me. That was the last thought I had before the dark void of unconsciousness pulled me in.