I buried the truth deep enough to let the flowers grow.
I am no longer just a grandmother. I am the gatekeeper of their peace. And as long as I draw breath, the monsters will never touch them.
Epilogue: The Final Milestone
Twelve years had passed since the massive box arrived on my doorstep. I was eighty-three now. My hands were gnarled like old oak roots, and I moved with a cane that tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the hardwood floors of the house Darla’s foresight had paid for.
The children were no longer children. Lily was twenty-one, a graduating law student with her mother’s sharp wit. Ben was nineteen, a quiet, empathetic soul studying architecture. Molly and Rosie were seventeen and sixteen, a whirlwind of teenage dreams and athletic trophies.
They stood in the living room, gathered around the very last box. It was small, dusty, and had been tucked away in the back of my closet for over a decade.
“To My Children: When the Last One is Grown.”
“Are you ready, Grandma?” Rosie asked, her voice soft. She was the one who looked most like Darla—the same tilt of the head, the same stubborn spark in her eyes.
“I’ve been ready for a long time,” I whispered.
