Staring at him, I felt unsure of how to respond or what to say. My heart hurt, and I felt betrayed. He was just a kid then, frightened, I know that, but he should have said something. Now, he's an adult, and so am I. If he wanted to shield me, he needed to explain everything. Maybe then, I would have been more ready for this.
"So you lied to me. You knew I was trying to solve this for our family's peace, and you lied. I don't even know how to process this," I cry.
"I lied to keep you alive," Donovan pleads. "I'm not apologizing for that. I know it was questionable now, but I can't change the past. We need to worry about what's going on now. Roxanne, please focus and put this aside. Listen to me closely, I'm trying to tell you that you have a gift, a powerful one."
"Did mom know about this? Is that why she told me never to look for my family?" I asked, anger boiling in my voice. Emotions surged through me—anger, sadness, fear, confusion, and shock—overwhelming me. I struggled to keep them in check, but had no time to process them before the front door exploded open behind us.
Shards of wood were scattering across the porch like shrapnel, just barely missing us. The entity, Elias, surged through the threshold now that the barrier was broken, its form flickering violently, fueled by rage and something more possible.
Zeke grabbed me around the waist and yanked me backward, behind him, shielding me with his body. Donovan looked like he had more to say, but Zeke cut him off.
"Now's not the time," he yelled, worried another attack was coming. "Donovan move!" My uncle was standing too close to the door. How he didn't get hurt was beyond me.
The entity lunges out at us. Agent William shoves Uncle Donovan off the porch, out of the way, just as a massive invisible force slams into the spot where he'd been standing. The floorboards of the porch shook as if an earthquake were happening. Zeke didn't hesitate; he scooped me back up, into his arms – not because I couldn't run, but because he wasn't wasting a single second.
"Hold on tight to me, baby girl," he says in my ear. His voice was fierce but shaking. Wrapping my arm around him, I clung to his neck as he sprinted down the porch steps into the driveway. I closed my eyes and lay my head on his chest, just wanting to put this nightmare behind us.
The entity was shrieking, the sound inhuman and furious – it was mad Zeke was taking me away from it. Agent Williams fired at it uselessly, but it bought us a little time. Donovan was stumbling toward us, limping, breathing raggedly.
"Get her out of here!" He was yelling, his voice loud as he screamed at Zeke, but I refused to open my eyes to the chaos. It may seem childish, but I hoped that once I opened my eyes, the entity would be gone. Zeke kept moving without pause until we reached the car. He hastily pulled open the passenger door and lifted me inside.
"Stay down," he orders, slamming my door shut and sprinting to the driver's side of the vehicle.
My gaze locks onto the side mirror, hoping to catch a glance of Agent Williams and Uncle Donovan. But my eyes locked onto the entity, Elias, who appeared at the edge of the porch, its form stretching unnaturally, as if it were reaching towards me—one final attempt to keep me from leaving. Williams and Donovan cut off my view of him. They ran full speed towards the car as Zeke jumped into the driver's seat. He jams his key into the ignition, his hands shaking.
"Come on, start. Please start!" he chanted over and over to his car. The car roars to life. "Yes," Zeke yells. Williams dives into the back seat, Donovan right behind him, almost not making it in time. As Donovan slams the door, something hits my window, making me scream – it was a smoky handprint that left a frost-burned imprint that spread like veins on the glass. Zeke slammed the car into drive and floored it. The tires screeched on gravel, flying as his car shot down the driveway.
The entity roared behind us, shaking the ground. It was mad that I got away; it wasn't finished mocking me. I curled into my seat, trembling. Zekes hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it gently, to reassure me. Williams is staring out the rear-view window, watching behind us.
"It's not done with her," he said quietly. "It will be coming after her again soon." And I knew he was right because as we drove away, a whisper curled through the air – faint but unmistakable.
"You belong to me," was the last word the entity said as we escaped.
The car fishtailed onto the road, gravel spitting behind us as Zeke floors the gas. The house shrank in the rearview mirror, but the terror inside it clung to all of us like smoke. I curl more into the seat, my chest tight and breathing shaky. Zeke squeezes my thigh again, a little harder this time, just enough to anchor me. Williams is twisted in the back seat, eyes locked out the back window.
"I don't see it... But that doesn't mean it's not chasing us," Williams said. Donovan sat quietly next to him, trembling badly and looking as though he had aged ten years. I was angry with him, yet I also felt worried. Zeke saw his face turn pale in the rearview mirror and feared he might faint.
"Donovan, you need to breathe, man. Your face is turning red as if you're about to pass out." But Donovan didn't breathe; he looked straight at me. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.
"I'm sorry," I hear him whisper. His voice was sad and worried, dripping with regret. I wasn't mad at him, just hurt. He had a big piece of the puzzle regarding everything that happened to our family, but kept it hidden. I appreciate the fact that he wants to help me, but I'm not a child. I need honesty, not more lies.
"Donovan, I'm not mad, I'm just hurt. The information you kept from me was important and could have given me a clue about who is behind this. Then you hit me with a whammy, and you say I have this gift, but I'm not sure I do. How do I know?" I asked, my voice cracking. Today had been no great strain on it, and I was afraid more damage had been done.
"I understand," was all he said before turning to Zeke. "Hey, man, we need to go to my house. I have something of my mother's that might help Roxanne understand this better, it's a journal," He says with no room for discussion. Zeke nods his head as he grips the steering wheel tightly.
"Could you drop me off at the bureau on our way through town?" Agent Williams asked. He obviously wanted as far away from us as possible. It seemed we had finally broken his calm and cool demeanor. Which is understandable; he had seen things he never believed in, and it would take him days or weeks to understand it all.
Our car rolled into the bureau parking lot. It was packed, with rows of black SUVs. The building loomed ahead: sterile, structured, safe. Everything the last few hours has not been. Zeke pulls up to the side door, engine idling. Agent Williams seemed distracted. As the car stopped, he didn't move. He hadn't spoken for the last ten minutes. He sat rigid in the back seat, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white, his eyes fixed on the streetlights, as if he were trying to anchor himself to something real.
"We're here," Zeke says as he glances back at the agent. Williams blinked, as if waking from a trance. He reaches for the door handle, then stops, his gaze locking with mine.
"Roxanne, what happened today?" his voice was low and rough, but I had no words that would ease his troubled mind.
"Too much for us to process. You don't need to explain this," I tell him, knowing he's battling with what to put in his report.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this. What I saw, what touched me, that wasn't human," he says, then swallows hard. Uncle Donovan shifts uncomfortably beside him. Zeke's jaw tightens, but he stays quiet. Williams looked between the three of us, his eyes full of something you'd never seen in him before – yes, but also a strange kind of loyalty.
"I'm not reporting this to anyone?" Williams declared.
"You sure about that?" Donovan asked curiously.
Williams nods at him, "If I tell them what I saw, they'll bench me. Or worse. And if I tell them about Roxanne …" He looked at me again before saying, "They would come for you, and I'm not letting that happen."
"Thank you," was all I could say as my chest tightened again.
"Roxanne," he says, exhaling shakily, "Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, don't face it alone. Always have one of us with you." He opened his door and left. We sat for a minute watching his figure retreat into the building. None of us spoke; we just sat in silence absorbing his words.
"Poor guy is going to be questioning reality for weeks," Zeke says, letting out a long breath.
"He's lucky he made it out alive," Donovan says, rubbing his face. "We all are." I stare at the bureau doors with my heart heavy.
"He doesn't deserve any of this," I say softly.
"None of you did," was Zeke's reply as he shifted the car into drive, and it lurched forward.
On the way to Donovan's, the sun started to fade in the distance. The road stretched ahead of us in long, dark ribbons. The hum of the engine was the only sound for a while- it was a fragile, uneasy quiet. Zeke kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on mine, our fingers intertwined. His thumb brushes my knuckles in a slow, lazy circle. Uncle Donovan stares out the window, lost in thought, guilt etched deep in the lines of his face.
"My mom's journal," Donovan finally says. "It'll help you understand what's happening, what you can do, and how to control it."
Swallowing, I ask, "What can I do?"
"The gift," he nods. "You were born with it, but it grows, changes, and if you don't learn to control it..." he trails off.
"It controls you," Zeke cuts in quietly. Donovan nods in his direction.
"I don't want this," I say, leaning back against the seat, staring at the blur of passing trees outside my window.
"I know neither did my mom, your grandmother." Donovan snaps back.
"But you're not alone, Rocky," Zeke says as he grips my hand tightly.
"I feel alone in this," I say to him. My emotions were too great for me to sort through, making my eyes sting with unshed tears.
"Not while I'm breathing," Zeke says affectionately.
Donovan clears his throat, "The journal will explain everything. The signs, warnings, and ways to strengthen yourself. Also, how to protect yourself from spirits like Elias." His voice was thick as he explained.
My stomach twists at the mere mention of Elias. "Will it tell me how to stop him?"
"It'll tell you how to fight him," he sighs. "But stopping him, he says, looking out the window, "that's something only you can figure out." The car fell into silence, not an empty one, but it was heavy with purpose, fear, and the beginning of something I'm not ready for. But there's no running from it now.
The town of Vandolia is peaceful as we travel to Uncle Donovan's house, with only a few people in the streets. Uncle Donovan's small cottage sits on the outskirts of town, close enough to experience the town's vibe but far enough to enjoy the quiet. Fifteen minutes later, we see his house come into view, and Zeke gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
"Whatever's in that journal, we will face it together," he tells me. For the first time since the entity whispered in my ear, I felt secure because I believed in Zeke.