"You're not very smart, little girl. If I were you, I'd drop that smart-aleck attitude of yours," Sheriff Dawson snaps. "I haven't figured out why you are targeting my son, but I will. Your games end now. He's not your father, never was. Your so-called mother used you to trap him. She probably got knocked up by some other loser. I always suspected that Catalano girl was no good, and you're the living proof of that." His words hit like a slap. This man, Andy's father, my grandfather by blood, spits venom with every syllable at me, his eyes blazing brightly with hatred.
"Come on, give me a break, Gramps," I say, knowing I'm provoking him. I can't help myself. When I feel cornered, my mouth moves faster than my brain. "Aren't you happy to have a long-lost granddaughter? I sure am thrilled to have a Gramps."
I gave him a sweet smile, trying to mask my fear. Before I could react, he barges into the entryway and shoves me against the wall. Pain shoots through my shoulders and down my back as his grip tightens. Bruises will form; I know it. Real terror spikes through me, but I refuse to show it.
"You are no family to me," he growls, his face turning red. "Where are the files?" he snaps, his breath hot on my face.
"I don't understand what you're talking about," I shout at him. "What paperwork? Let me go right now, because I'm pretty sure this is an assault." Struggling to free myself, trying to push him away.
"You got proof?" Sheriff Dawson asks disrespectfully. "No one would believe you." He was right no one would believe my word over his.
Zeke and Andy rush over to us. Fury is etched across their faces. They grab the sheriff by the arms and yank him off me. The rage in their eyes is aimed at the sheriff, but his is aimed only at me.
Looking at Zeke, the sheriff spat, "Assaulting a police officer can get you put in jail, boy."
"So can assaulting a young woman," Zeke yells angrily back. The sheriff approaches him and gets toe-to-toe, trying to assert his dominance. It doesn't work on Zeke; he stands his ground.
"I told you both I'm done playing nice," the sheriff snarls. "I gave you enough chances to hand over the files." His threat is interrupted by a voice from behind us, making him jump.
"What the hell is your problem, old man?" Andy roars, "Why are you picking on my daughter? Whether you like it or not, she's mine. I have DNA Proof." Andy grabs him by the arm, turns him around, and holds his arm tightly. Zeke rushes over to me, looking me over while the other two men argue.
"She's not your daughter, Andy. Can't you see she's lying to you? She could have had those results faked. She's just like her mother, worthless," he says, yanking his arm free. The sheriff looks directly at me when he says the last part. Andy's face went from mad to seething. He punches his father, knocking him to the ground. The sheriff rubs his jaw looking up at his son in disbelief.
"You're going to hit me, your own father, over that girl?" He asks as he picks himself up off the floor, still rubbing his jaw. A purple bruise was already forming.
"Yes, because she's my daughter," Andy says, his voice shaking with rage. "Do not ever come here again or speak to my child like that. If anything happens to either one of them, I'm coming for you. Now get the hell out." Andy shoves the sheriff out the door and slams it shut, locking it. He turns back to us, his chest heaving.
"Are you ok, baby?" Zeke asks softly. His voice is tight with worry. He cups my shoulders gently, his thumbs lightly brush the tender spot where the sheriff grabbed me. "We should report him." He's right—I know he is—but who is going to believe us? The Sheriff's department would take his word over ours.
"Who exactly?" I snap. "Whom do we report him to that's going to take us seriously? He is the sheriff, remember." This whole situation frustrated me, and I didn't mean to sound so irritable.
"I know what you mean, sweetheart," Andy says as he approaches me. "Your grandfather has used and abused his position to intimidate people. He thinks he is untouchable."
"There's got to be someone," Zeke says, his jaw tight. "I can't stand around and do nothing." Andy patted him on the back in reassurance; he understood his frustration all too well.
"Don't worry, I'll handle my old man," Andy said firmly. "I'm not going to let him bully you guys." Turning to me, he says, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know he was this bad." It wasn't his fault.
The sheriff's hatred toward me feels personal. Maybe it's deeper than blood. You think finding out I was his kin would make him soften toward me. All it did was deepen his hatred. Our relationship is unlikely ever to be built on love or understanding. That's fine with me — someone like him would only be toxic in my life.
Since it was late, Andy chose to stay with us overnight. He said he was too tired to drive home, but I also think he was worried about his father returning. His protective instinct as a father was both touching and new to me. We offered him our room, where we usually sleep, but he wanted to stay in Mom's old room so he could be near her belongings. It's clear he missed my mom. As Zeke and I lay down for bed, I grab Mom's journal to read another entry, wanting to feel close to her.
Dear Diary,
Today has been an exciting day because I felt the baby move for the first time. The sensation was strange and unexpected, so I called my doctor in a panic. Initially, I worried something was wrong with our baby girl, but the doctor assured me it was normal. Andy will be so thrilled when I tell him; he often talks about all he wants to do with her as she grows—teaching her to ride a bike, going on outings, and camping. He will make a fantastic father, and she will love him. As her due date approaches, fear starts to creep in—will I be a good mom? That's my biggest worry. I was fortunate to have wonderful parents, and I hope to be half as good as they were. Andy will be here soon. I have to go.
Thanks for listening as always,
This journal holds the heartfelt words of a young, expectant mother—my mom—who had no idea that in a few days her life would be turned upside down. Her hopes and dreams are beautifully preserved within the written pages of her journal. I often think about my mom and how she was so young when she endured the tragedy of losing her entire family and taking on the task of raising a child alone. I will forever admire the strength and courage she summoned to keep moving forward, despite everything she faced. I lay the journal on my nightstand and roll over to wrap my arms around Zeke, who is already asleep. His warmth lulls me to sleep quickly, taking me to dreamland.
This dream is a little different than the others. Instead of being in the house, I'm transported into a dense, oppressive forest. The wet, squishy earth beneath my feet feels alive, pulsating with a strange energy. I stare up to the sky. There are towering twisted trees of ominous shapes and sizes looming overhead; their gnarled branches reach out like dark claws. I look back into the dark forest as an unsettling silence envelopes everything. There are no sounds. No birds, no animals, just an oppressive void. Heart pounding, I hug myself tightly and relentlessly push forward, my eyes scanning for a way out of this nightmare.
The pounding of my footsteps is the only sound as I break through the tree line. Halting to a stop, I'm shocked to see the back of my house. A figure steps out of the house, encased in shadows, and runs towards me. The sight makes me take a step back in fear. It was my grandmother, Thalia, she was panicked.
"Roxanne, please help us. They are going to take us away. Please don't let them," she begs, grabbing hold of both my hands.
"Who grandma, who's moving you? From where?" I ask.
"The woods, we're in the woods. They're worried that you know too much. If they move us, you'll never find us." She cries.
"Grandma, I'm confused. Are you talking about your bodies? Are you buried in the woods behind my house?" I ask, dreading her answer.
"Yes, baby, we are. Wake up your father and Zeke. You have to hurry." Was the last thing she said to me before I jolt awake. My body trembled, and I was drenched in sweat as I tried to process the dream. Holy crap, my grandparents have been near me this whole time. Why did I never check the woods? Jumping up, I ran over to the window that overlooked the backyard and the woods. A beam of lights caught my eye; they had to be flashlights. Are they really that dumb to draw attention to themselves? Turning to the bed, I whisper-yell for Zeke.
"Zeke, Baby, get up."
"Mm, Rocky, it's two in the morning. What's wrong?" he asks groggily.
"Someone is in the woods. I can see their lights. We need to go check it out," I state and start to grab sweats and one of his hoodies.
"Go back to bed; we'll check it out in the morning." He rolls over and starts to snore softly.
"Get up, Zeke, or I'm going without you," I said while shaking him back awake. That caught his attention, making him sit up straight.
"Ok, I'm up. Give me a sec to throw on some clothes," he was still half asleep as he rummaged through his clothing.
"That's fine. I'm going to wake up Andy." I say back to him while leaving the room. Knocking lightly on Andy's door, I call out to him, "Andy, wake up."
He answers the door already dressed. "Hey kid, you saw the lights in the tree line, huh?" He asks. His question stuns me.
"Y-y-yeah," I stutter. "It feels like something shady is going on. I want to check it out." He nods to me and follows me down the stairs. We avoid turning on the lights in the house; we don't want to alert whoever was out there that we were on to them. Zeke comes down and grabs flashlights for us. He motions for us not to turn them on. We all creep out the back door and quietly walk as fast as we can to the woods.
We could hear murmuring, but can't make out what they were saying. We're still too far away. We carefully inch closer to the figures. Taking each footstep with caution and precision. We find a group of trees that we hide behind as we watch them. They both had shovels digging a decent-sized hole. Was this what Grandma was talking about? Then the realization hit me. They led us to my grandparents' resting place. They were digging up their bodies. Then we hear them speak.
"Hurry up, man. We need to get these bodies moved before morning. If anyone in that house catches us, we're dead." The smaller guy says angrily to the taller one.
"Ok, man, shut up and shovel." The taller one retorts. I try to step closer, but a twig cracks under my foot. Both men's heads shoot up and look in my direction. "Who's there? Come out now!" the petite guy bellows.
"No one's there; get back to work," the taller man growled.
"I swear someone is standing right there," he says, shining his light toward me. I tried to hide, but his flashlight catches me. To avoid revealing my face, I turn on my flashlight, casting a glare. The other man drops his shovel and runs away. The man with the light holds his ground until Andy and Zeke approach him. Then he drops his flashlight and chases after his partner. As I run to the hole in the ground, I gasp. The sight waiting for me was something I wasn't prepared for.