THE MONSTER INSIDE ME (#ONC2024)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: A NEW LIFE

"Uncle Ryan... Mia was here."

I tell him a few days later, my voice steady.

Fear flashes across his face.

"What did she do to you?"

"Nothing," I say. "She only wanted to warn me. She said you were hers. She knew how I used to feel about you."

The relief that washes over him is unmistakable. I don't blame him. Letting go hasn't been easy—but I've done it.

"She came all this way just to say that?" he asks.

"She tried to undermine me," I explain. "She said she could destroy me, but that I wasn't worth it." I smile, genuinely proud. "She failed."

Ryan nods slowly, understanding settling in.

"I'm glad you're healing," he says, resting a hand on my shoulder. "What she did—what she said—was wrong."

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm focusing on recovery. I finally understand that there are people who truly care about me." I take a breath. "I'll be leaving soon. I want to live in Glouminster."

He stands and begins pacing, thoughtful.

"You'll always be welcome with us," he says. "But Mia worries me. Obsession makes people reckless."

"I know," I reply. "But I've survived worse. I want to learn magic."

He stops, studying me.

"Magic is not a weapon," he says carefully. "It demands discipline."

"I understand."

"If Georgiana agrees, we'll begin."

Hope flares—quiet, controlled, real.

A week later, Georgiana approves.

Ryan wastes no time.

"You weren't born with magic," he tells me gently. "That doesn't mean you can't learn."

"So I'll never be powerful?" I ask, disappointment creeping in.

"You already are," he says. "Just not in the way you expect."

We begin with meditation.

At first, my thoughts rebel—images, memories, fragments colliding. But slowly, my breath anchors me.

Then something shifts.

I see a young man—tall, dark-featured, with my uncle's blue eyes. Power coils around him. Beside him stands a red-haired girl with eyes just as familiar. They argue fiercely, their voices blurred, emotions sharp enough to sting.

Then darkness.

A Victorian house rises from it—grand, waiting.

I am your destiny, a voice whispers.

Blood follows. My uncle's blood.

I scream.

I wake to Ryan's voice, his hands steadying me.

"You fainted."

I search him—unharmed.

"What I saw," I say carefully. "Do you have a black-haired son and a red-haired daughter?"

Guilt flickers across his face.

"I have a Black son with a girl. It was a mistake. Not the child, don't get me wrong, but the way he was conceived. I was doing drugs with that girl, and it happened. I'm not proud of it. Amadea, my daughter with Theolinda, is a redhead like her mother. They're both three years old. Why are you asking?"

"I saw something. It was in a Victorian-style house. During my meditation, I saw the house, and it told me that it was my destiny."

My uncle's face pales when I say these things. He takes my hand.

"During meditation, you can connect with other realities. It appears to me that this happened to you. Do not worry. I'll help you safely navigate those realities. I also know someone who can aid us."

"Who would that person be?" I asked curiously.

"Rowena. She is a psychic medium who specialises in guiding people through spiritual experiences. She has helped many individuals, like you, understand and harness their abilities. Would you be open to meeting with her?"

My uncle's reassuring tone calms my nerves as I nod in agreement, eager to learn more about the people I see and my mysterious connection to this house.

Rowena, a woman with dark skin in her 60s, exudes a comforting aura that instantly calms me as we settle in for our first meeting. Eager to uncover insights about my unusual experiences, I recount every detail of my meditation to her, feeling her attentive focus.

"Arabella, during meditation, communication channels open between our unconscious and other realms. There, we can discover our greatest hidden potential."

I interrupted her and said,

"Uncle Ryan says I don't have magical abilities, but I can learn them. I'm very confused."

"Due to familial inheritance, you may not have them. Your uncle has them on his mother's side. And anyone with persistence and determination may indeed learn magic. But, in your circumstances, I see something really interesting," says Rowena.

"What do you see?"

"Your meditation experiences differ from those of individuals without extraordinary abilities. You may not have supernatural powers, but you do have unique abilities."

I'm growing more perplexed by the situation.

Rowena continued, "Your ability to connect with the spiritual realm through meditation is rare and should not be underestimated. You may not have traditional magical powers, but your potential lies in a different realm altogether."

"And what does it mean?"

"You might possess the ability to glimpse into potential futures," Rowena explains, her voice carrying a mix of caution and intrigue.

I'm horrified. In that hypothetical scenario, I saw my uncle covered in blood.

"No, it can not be!" I let out a shout.

Rowena lifts my shoulders and says a few Latin phrases. I instantly felt relaxed.

"What you saw was not destiny," she assures me. "Only a path. And paths can be changed."

The fear loosens its grip.

Healing, she insists, comes first.

I believe her.

Months pass.

Therapy steadies me. My thoughts no longer spiral. Rowena helps me interpret what I glimpse—not as prophecy, but as a warning.

I attend Amadea's fifth birthday party. Laughter fills the room. I belong there, quietly, without needing to be extraordinary.

The day I leave the asylum arrives without drama.

Ryan gives me an apartment in Glouminster. I begin working with Theolinda at Brady Investigations. In the fall, I'll train as a private investigator.

I don't know what the future holds.

But for the first time, I know this:

I'm not defined by my past.

I'm not owned by darkness.

And destiny is not a sentence—it's a conversation.

This is the beginning.