Before diving into my plan to secure funds, I needed to master the jade pendant—the most crucial tool Grandma had left me, the one that would make my survival and revenge possible.
Last time, I'd never unlocked its infinite space until Ethan tore it from my neck as I drowned, too late to save myself or Grandma's legacy.
Regret gnawed at my chest as I thought of it—how stupid I'd been, how blind to Ethan and Sarah's lies, how I'd wasted Grandma's final gift.
This time, I would not waste a single day, not a single chance to make things right. As the rain pattered softly against the window, I slipped off the bed, tiptoeing to the door to check—Sarah's bedroom light was off, her steady breathing drifting down the hallway, proof she'd fallen back asleep.
Relief washed over me for a fleeting moment; I couldn't risk her seeing this, seeing the power I held, seeing the resolve beneath my "vulnerable" act.
I locked my bedroom door quietly, then dimmed my desk lamp to a faint glow, enough to see but not bright enough to arouse suspicion, my hands steady but my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and fear—fear that it wouldn't work, fear that I'd fail again, fear that Grandma's gift would elude me once more.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, placing a few small items in front of me: a cheap ballpoint pen from the coffee table, a crumpled tissue, and a tiny bottle of hand lotion I'd stolen from Sarah's bag (a petty act, but one that made my chest feel lighter, a small prelude to my revenge—something to remind her that I wasn't the fool she thought I was).
My fingers brushed the jade pendant at my neck, its cool surface contrasting with the lingering warmth of my skin, the tiny pinprick wound on my palm still throbbing faintly—a physical reminder of my vow, of the pain I'd endured, of the blood I'd shed.
I closed my eyes, focusing all my attention on the pendant, pushing aside thoughts of Ethan and Sarah, pushing aside the fear, and whispering silently to Grandma, "Guide me, please. I need this.
I need to survive, I need to make them pay.
For you, for me—for the girl they killed." My throat tightened, but I refused to let tears fall; tears were for the old Rosie, the naive one.
The new Rosie didn't cry—she fought.
A soft, silvery shimmer seeped from the pendant, wrapping around my wrists like gossamer, and I felt a faint tug in my chest—as if an invisible portal had opened, waiting to hold whatever I gave it. Hope surged within me, bright and fierce, pushing out the last traces of fear.
I opened my eyes, fixating on the ballpoint pen, and willed it to disappear—willed it with every ounce of my resolve, every bit of my hatred, every memory of the pain I'd endured. In the blink of an eye, the pen was gone, no trace of it left on the floor.
My heart skipped a beat, not with fear, but with a flicker of hope that bloomed into something stronger, something unshakable. I took a deep breath, steadying my hands, and focused again, willing the pen to return. It reappeared instantly, exactly where it had been, the plastic casing still warm from my earlier touch.
A small, bitter smile tugged at my lips; it worked.
Grandma was with me. I wasn't alone anymore. This power was mine, and I would wield it to destroy everything Ethan and Sarah held dear.
I repeated the motion, again and again—storing the pen, the tissue, the lotion, then retrieving them one by one, then all at once.
At first, my hands trembled, the silver light flickering unsteadily, and the tug in my chest felt sharp and unfamiliar.
Frustration crept in, hot and sharp; I couldn't afford to be clumsy, couldn't afford to waste time mastering this.
But I pushed it down, recalling Grandma's note, recalling the feel of her hand on my head, recalling the way Ethan and Sarah had smiled as they left me to die. With each repetition, my focus sharpened, the light grew steady, and the tug softened into a gentle pull, like Grandma's hand guiding mine.
I tried larger items next: a book from my nightstand, a pair of socks, even the small ceramic mug I used for water. Each time, they vanished into the pendant's space, and each time, I could retrieve them without hesitation, without even closing my eyes.
Pride swelled in my chest—not arrogance, but relief, a quiet certainty that I was doing the right thing, that I was finally prepared to fight back.
By the time I stopped, my shoulders ached from sitting too long, but my heart felt light—lighter than it had in months, lighter than it had since I'd woken up from the nightmare of drowning. I touched the pendant again, its surface warm now, as if it had absorbed my resolve, my hatred, my hope. This space was infinite, weightless, timeless—no decay, no clutter, just endless room for all the supplies I would gather, all the tools I would need to destroy Ethan and Sarah. I stored the mug one last time, smiling faintly to myself—a real smile, not the fake,one I wore for Sarah and Ethan. Grandma was with me, in this pendant, in the strength she'd given me. With this power, nothing could stop me. When I stood up, my steps were steady, my mind clear, my heart burning with a quiet fire. The old Rosie, the one who'd loved Ethan, who'd trusted Sarah, who'd turned her back on her family—she was gone. In her place was a survivor, a avenger, ready to take what was hers. It was time to move on to the next step: securing the funds that would fuel my preparation, that would carry me to revenge.