Chapter Thirty-Eight
My sweet girl,
If the gift has awakened suddenly, and your body feels weak. It is nothing to be scared about because this is normal. You have pushed your body and mind to their limits. The first surge is always the hardest because it overwhelms the senses.
To protect yourself, you must learn to breathe through it. The gift is not meant to be forced. It is meant to flow through you. Your body is the weapon to fight evil and protect the weak.
When the dead reach for you, do not push them away with fear. Fear feeds them. Fear strengthens them.
Instead, ground yourself in the living. Touch something warm. Someone warm. What or whoever it is has to be special to you, have a meaningful connection. It's what grounds you in the living. Let their heartbeat anchor yours.
Once you are steady, you may open the door to the other side again — gently — and the gift will answer you without tearing you apart. Remember: the dead cannot command you. You command the connection.
You are stronger than the shadows that seek you. You are special.
Love Always,
Grandma.
Zeke exhales shakily, saying, "ground yourself in the living," while gently pressing his forehead against mine. "I'm right here. I'll keep you grounded. I'm not going anywhere," he vows like an oath. A warmth begins to spread through my body. Just from the sound of his voice, my breathing gradually steadies, slowing and becoming more controlled. The dizziness diminishes, and the tingling in my hands softens into a gentle warmth.
"She's stabilizing," Donovan says, letting out a breath of relief. Blinking, I open my eyes, my vision sharpens as it lands on Zekes handsome face. I try to smile up at him, but I'm too exhausted and end up just staring at his face.
"Hey, welcome back," He says, smiling, stroking my hair. His voice was small, relieved, shaken.
"I heard my grandma's voice," I say. My voice was barely audible, soft as a whisper. I wasn't even sure he heard me until he answered back.
"I know, and you really scared me, Rocky," he says, gently brushing a thumb across my cheek. My heart was heavy knowing he had been through so much emotionally because of this night, but I was grateful he was with me. I don't think I could have gotten through everything without him.
"Roxanne?" Donovan said excitedly as he sat back on his heels, wiping his eyes. "You didn't just activate the gift. You used it. You pushed Elias back. Mom would be so proud of you," he stated. I smiled at him weakly and leaned into Zeke more. I was exhausted but thankfully alive.
"I didn't know what I was doing," I say tiredly. "I was so scared we were all going to be hurt or killed because I couldn't control it."
Donovan shook his head, "You don't have to know what you're doing. You handled it better than anyone thought you could. I'm proud of you. The journal will help teach you what you need to know. Mom started writing it as soon as she found out about you," he said. The journal pages start to flutter once more, as if in agreement.
"We start learning how to control it together tomorrow, then," Zeke says, helping me sit up, but keeping an arm around me for support. "Tonight you need rest, but we're not staying here," he says. Donovan and I nodded in agreement. After what we had just experienced, neither of us wanted to chance a night there either. Zeke helps me to my feet. My legs were unsteady, my skin was cold, and my heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird.
"I don't want to go home," I say, my voice barely steady. I was not ready to face anything that may still be lingering there. I needed somewhere neutral but safe.
"Then we won't," Zeke states firmly.
"How about Sharon and Andy. Your dad's house must be safer than anywhere else," Donovan suggested.
I hesitated, not because I doubted Sharon or Andy, but because I'm not sure how much more they could take. Eventually, I nodded, agreeing. Donovan headed upstairs and packed some clothes. He decided he wanted to be closer to us until everything is solved, and he planned to move into the house with us.
Zeke led me to the car, walking close as if worried someone might step out of the shadows and attack. I clutched my grandmother's journal against my chest, feeling like it was my only lifeline. He carefully guided me into the vehicle to avoid hitting my head on the doorframe. Once I was in the passenger seat, Zeke closed my door and hurried to his side, the driver's door. He slid into his seat and started the engine. Donovan, holding a duffel bag close to his chest, appeared and slipped into the backseat, still looking pale. We sat in silence; they were waiting for me to call my father.
Taking a deep breath, I pull out my phone; my hands are trembling. I bring up his contact information, and my finger hovers over the call button. As I debate if this is the right thing to do, Zeke speaks softly to me.
"Call him. He'll want to know you're safe and what has been going on." He glanced at me a few times before pulling out of Donovan's driveway and concentrating on the road ahead.
Before I could change my mind, I hit the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before he picks up on the fourth ring. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Roxanne?" Andy's voice filters through the phone, laced with worry. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"Dad..." I say. My voice is breaking as my throat tightens, hearing his voice. The dam of emotions breaks, and I ask tearfully, "Can we come stay with you tonight, please? It's me, Zeke, and Donovan?" Andy takes a sharp breath in and doesn't respond at first, as total silence envelops us for a moment.
"Of course, of course you can. Are you hurt? Do I need to come get you or call someone?" Just hearing his voice and how worried he was made me feel better. His unconditional fatherly love brought a small smile to my lips.
"No, just please don't ask anything right now, I can explain when we get there. Thank you, Dad. I love you," My voice was tired, raw, and low.
"I love you, too, kid. Come straight here and just be careful. Text me when you pull up, and I'll unlock the door," he says steadily.
"Thank you," I say, sincerely appreciating his love and strength.
The car ride was quiet, but not peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that comes after a storm: heavily charged with emotions, waiting for the next strike. Uncle Donovan shifts in his seat, enough to make it noticeable that something was bothering him. Finally, he leans towards my seat and looks at me.
"Roxanne, what do you plan to tell your father?" Donovan asked. "I understand he deserves the truth, but you don't need to tell him everything tonight. Honestly, I'm not sure if he can handle all of it—him or Sharon. It might be overwhelming."
I shook my head no, disagreeing with him. "No, they need to know it all. Especially, if they are involved in my life."
"Don't worry, we'll tell them together," Zeke says, agreeing, threading his fingers through mine for support.
The rest of the drive was quiet as I watched the scenery blur past my window. My eyelids started drooping on their own. The exhaustion was taking over, and I fell asleep.
Before I knew it, Zeke was gently shaking me awake. My eyes didn't want to open; they still felt heavy. After what felt like minutes, I was finally able to open my eyes. Andy was standing on the porch, light glowing behind him. He rushed down the steps as soon as my car door opened.
"Roxanne," he says, pulling me into a tight hug, his shaking hands tremble against my back. I sank into him, letting his warmth steady me. Zeke and Donovan stood nearby, giving us a moment.
"What happened? You look shaken." He asked as he pulled back, his warm hand cupping my face. I leaned into his hand and sighed.
"Can we talk inside?" I asked. My legs were still weak and felt like they were going to collapse at any moment.
He nodded immediately and ushered us all into the house. Zeke and I sat on the couch, Donovan in a chair across from us. Andy sat in his armchair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on me.
"Ok," he says softly. "Tell me." My hands start to tremble as they lie in my lap. Zeke places his hand over them.
"Start wherever you need to," Andy says calmly. Sharon entered carrying a tray of coffee, still dressed in sleep pants and a shirt. She distributed cups of black coffee to everyone and settled next to me on the couch, gently bumping my shoulder with hers. I managed a slight smile to show my gratitude for her support. Their warmth — Sharon's and Zekes' — was a comforting presence I could lean on.
"The night mom's family disappeared, your family was involved," I say, carefully watching his face. He looked at me like I was talking in a foreign language. As if he didn't understand what I had just said, but the moment it clicked, his face went from worry to shock and disbelief.
"My family? Are you talking about my father? Roxanne, what are you saying?" he forces out. He doesn't sound mad, just shocked. He knew his father was a bad man capable of things like this, but I don't think he thought he would do it to someone he loved.
"Your father, Sheriff Dawson, wanted Momma dead. He didn't want me to be born because he thought I would ruin your life. He thought Momma got pregnant to trap you. So instead, he convinced your uncle Elias to kill her, and he agreed to do it." I let out a sob when I was done.
"No, I mean I know my dad's an asshole and wasn't happy about the pregnancy or situation, but why would Uncle Elias agree. No, this can't be true." He says more to himself than any of us. He was fighting with the people he knew and the truth of their evil nature.
"Andy, it's true. He was there the night my parents died. He pulled the trigger. I saw it all," Donovan tells him.
"It was not only because of the pregnancy but also because of what I am or who I am," I explain.
"Wait, what do you mean? What are you? I'm confused." Andy says, running a hand over his face. He was already in information overload and was having a hard time processing it all.
" I have a gift," I say as I grab the journal from Zeke and open it. "Grandma had it too, but someone else wants it."
"A gift? His voice cracks. "What kind of gift?"
I hesitate for a moment, then tell him everything: the entity, the attack, the voices, the shockwave, Grandma's journal, the unknown man's obsession, and the danger I was born into—my legacy. By the time I finish, Andy's hands are shaking, and he looks distraught. He stands abruptly, startling us all, and starts to pace the room, running a hand through his hair.
"My God, all these years... I had no idea," he says angrily. At last, everything clicked into place, and all he felt was rage towards his father, uncle, and anyone else who tried to hurt me. His anger was fueled by the loss of his child and girlfriend. He mourned what we lost, yet we continued to thrive in the world.