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And then I put their own faces on the screen as they appeared right now—haunted and disturbed.

Seeing themselves snapped them out of their reverie.
 

Jennifer gasped when she saw the look on her face.
 
Alex looked at me, his own face a shade paler than it was moments ago.
 
His eyes were moist.
 
His lips were moving and he was saying something.
 
I released myself from the amulets and the roar in my head faded.
 
Slowly, I could hear his apologies, over and over his apologies, tumbling out of him in a rush of shame and embarrassment.

So, now they knew.

chapter thirty-three

We were silent while they absorbed what they saw.
 
I went to use the bathroom.
 
Alex got up and looked out one of the windows.

Jennifer didn’t move from her seat.
 
When I returned, she spoke first.
 
“What are your plans for the rest of them?”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you plan to kill them?” Alex asked.

“In spite of what happened last night, I’m no murderer, Alex.
 
Last night I had no choice but to defend myself from whatever those things were.
 
They were going to kill us.
 
But the way they quickly turned to ash makes me question whether they were even human.”

He sat down next to her.
 
“So, what are you going to do?”

“I plan to imprison them in a whole host of ways.
 
Tyler will go to jail for holding up that bank, which is where he belongs for his role in killing my parents.
 
Ginny Gibson will be institutionalized because she obviously has gone insane.
 
Either that, or she’s possessed by the devil.
 
We’ll let the professionals decide.
 
At the very least, she’ll have an exorcism because I actually think she needs one.
 
Rebecca Ward will never be able to communicate on any level again.
 
All she’ll be able to do is speak and write gibberish.
 
And don’t even think about sign language.
 
That’s out for her, too.”

“What about Amy Rogers?”

“Amy Rogers is going to eat herself into a 400-pound birthday suit.
 
Her body will be her prison.
 
Once she reaches that weight, she’ll never be able to shed it, no matter how little she eats, how many times she staples her stomach or how many times she joins Jenny Craig.
 
And she’ll never find love or friendship.
 
People will see her for exactly what she is—a mean-spirited, ugly, murdering bitch.
 
She’ll be alone for the rest of her miserable life.”

“You’ve already gone after Hastings,” Jennifer said.

“No, I haven’t.
 
I dealt with Hastings when he decided to come after me in the woods.
 
In spite of what I did to him that day—which really only was to scare the hell out of him and warn him against me—he still took part in killing my parents.
 
He ignored it all.
 
More than anyone else, he’ll regret it most because he knew the consequences.
 
To me, he’s the worst.”

I sat down in the chair facing the couch.
 
“I’m worried about that witch,” I said.
 
“And I’m not sure what to think about whoever has the last amulet.
 
They could be dead at this point and their amulet buried with them.
 
They could be coming for me or not.
 
Who knows?
 
What I do know is that the witch will be back.
 
I’m certain of it.”

“I am, too,” Alex said.

Jennifer shook her head.
 

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I still can’t believe we’re talking about witches and that you can hover two feet off the floor.”

“More like forty feet,” Alex said.
 
“You should have seen him last night.”

I looked at Jennifer and decided to give her more insight into what I could do.
 
I made myself invisible.
 
I heard her catch her breath and when I reappeared, I teleported myself into the kitchen.
 
They looked around, but hadn’t seen me yet.
 

“I’m here.”

They turned to me.

“How?” Jennifer asked.

“I just imagine it and it happens.”

“Can you imagine world peace?”

It was the first time I’d laughed in what seemed like weeks.
 

“You know,” Alex said.
 
“You can use those amulets for good.”

I came into the living room and took the chair opposite them again.
 
“I plan to,” I said.
 
“But first I need to deal with Joe Whitehill, Alan Stewart, Mike Hastings, Rob Maxwell and the probability that at the very least, that witch is coming back for me sooner than later.”

chapter thirty-four

Later that night, after they left and we agreed that we were still on for a pizza and a movie the following night, I thought about everything that had transpired between us.

Never had I been so personal with anyone.
 
Never had I directly dealt with the shame I felt from being bullied.
 
I wasn’t sure how I felt about telling them.
 
Part of me was humiliated by it, another part of me was embarrassed by it and another part of me felt liberated by it.
 

I’d done nothing to instigate all that had happened to me over the years.
 
I was just an easy target for the masses.
 
Thinking back, I probably could have taken on one person and put an end to it when it first started, but when I thought about it, I reconsidered.
 
It never had been just one person.
 
My unpopularity always had been a virus that spread and consumed me in middle school, then in high school.

Were these amulets a curse?
 
Were they turning me into a bully, as Alex suggested?
 
I didn’t think so.
 
I hadn’t used them to be cruel to just anyone.
 
Seeking revenge on the eight people who murdered my parents was a hell of a lot different than going after some random person I wanted to bully for the sheer hell of it, which is what I had experienced.
 
What I was doing had nothing to do with being a bully.
 
It had everything to do with revenge.

The four left on my list would pay.
 
Big time.

I walked over to my computer and opened a Web browser.
 
Before he left, Alex said I could use the amulets for good, but how?
 
What could I do with them that would create a positive change?

My homepage was set to YouTube, because that’s where I watched the latest music videos.
 
I looked at the page and an idea occurred to me. I typed in the word “bullied” in the search bar.
 
What I saw didn’t surprise me, but it did sadden me.
 
There were literally thousands of videos of people just like me, who either had the courage to tell their stories in a public forum like this or who were simply desperate to be heard, which was worse.

Most were around my age, but hundreds of the videos were either of young people trying to reach out to someone who might listen or it was their outraged parents railing against a broken system they couldn’t fix.

I watched a video made by a parent and listened to a furious mother question her son’s school system, which presumably had a zero-tolerance policy against bullying, which she scoffed at as nothing more than a PR stunt.
 

On the day she shot the video, her son came home with a broken shoulder.
 
He was jumped in the locker room by his fellow students.
 
She knew her son.
 
She believed him when he told her what happened.
 
She said this had been going on for years and it was only getting worse.

She talked about suing the system.
 
She talked about taking on the school board and fighting back.
 
But how would she ever win when the boys who shoved her son were sticking to their guns and saying that he slipped on the slick tile and went down hard on it?
 
They had nothing to do with it and there were no witnesses other than the victim to say otherwise.
 
It was their word against his.
 
“And they’ll win,” she said.
 
“They always win.”

The video was dated just two days ago.
 
I wondered if there was anything I could do to help and then I wondered if that was even a smart idea.
 
What were the ramifications if I intervened?
 
I knew I could tap into the amulets and make certain her child never was bullied again, but I’m not God.
 
It felt wrong.
 
Moreover, who I was as a person now was directly the result of being bullied.
 
I was compassionate to people because of it.
 
I tried to be kind to others because I knew what it felt like on the other side.
 
What if I had grown up without being bullied?
 
Who would I be now?

I watched her video again and paused on her face.
 
She looked haunted, angry, scared.
 
And then I noticed some of the comments written beneath the video and what stunned me wasn’t only what they said, but that YouTube even allowed them to be there.
 

“You’re son is probably a faggot and he got caught checking out the other guys in the shower,” someone noted.
 
“Quit your bitching, bitch.”
 
Others said that she sounded like a liar and that she was out to sue the school so she could make a few million.
 
A few notes defended her, but the majority were against her.
 
It was a mob mentality.
 
The trolls were attacking her.
 
When did free speech become just hate speech?
 

I watched a few of the videos of those who were around my age, then those who were younger.
 
What was the best way to help these people?
 
I had the power to do it, but how best to use it?

I went to Google and did a search for “bullying support groups” and “bullying non-profit organizations.”
 
And I hit pay dirt.
 
There were dozens of non-profits out there doing serious work, but with little funding.
 

I tapped into the amulets and asked them to show me only those organizations that were the most legitimate and doing the most help with those in their communities.
 
The screen flashed and I was presented with the best choices, each of which had ways to offer them financial support.

And so I did, anonymously.
 

None of the directors would ever know where their millions came from when they checked their bank accounts, but it didn’t matter.
 
The money was there.
 
It would just be from some anonymous donor.
 
They’d use it to help those who needed it.
 
There was enough for each to start meaningful, national campaigns that would catch the attention of the media and create exactly what I wanted—massive exposure and the potential for awareness and change.

*
  
*
  
*

Later that night, when I was asleep, the witch came to me.
 

I was dreaming but she was inside of me.
 
I could feel the amulets growing hot against my chest.
 
I tried to wake, but couldn’t.
 
She’d done something to me, frozen me while I slept, leaving me feeling completely vulnerable even though I could move in the dream.

I looked at her.

She was young and beautiful, her pale skin almost translucent.
 
Her eyes were dark and liquid, framed by impossibly long lashes that looked like traps when she closed them.

She held out her hands in front of her and said, “Give them to me.”

I heard myself say, “No.”
 
I saw myself step away from her.
 
We were in a white room with no windows.
 
She was wearing a red leather pantsuit.
 
In her hand was a butcher knife.

“It will be easier for you.
 
I’ll make it painless.”

“No.”

“But he won’t take no for an answer.”

“Who won’t?”

“The witch.”

“You’re the witch.”

“I’m
his
witch.
 
We’re all his witches.
 
We’re here to serve him.
 
Those amulets belong to him.
 
He sent me here to get them.”
 
She lifted the knife.
 
“And I never disappoint him.
 
Now, give them to me.”

I transported myself to the ceiling.
 
She followed and swiftly turned in a blisteringly fast arc.
 
The knife swiped close to my throat.
 
She missed, but just barely.

“This doesn’t have to hurt.”

“Get away from me.”

I held up my hand and forced her back.
 
She flew across the room with ease, her back cracking against the wall.
 
But she didn’t fall.
 
Instead, she rose into the air.

“You’re stronger,” she said.

“Stay back.”

“But are you strong enough?”

She hurled the knife at me.
 
Before it could strike, I transported myself behind her, wrapped my arms around her head and twisted it sharply to the left in an effort to break it.
 
But she was just as strong.
 
She bent over quickly and sent me sliding across the floor, toward the knife.

I reached out my hand for it, called it to me.
 
But when I turned to stab her with it, she was no longer alone.
 
A man was with her.
 
He was tall, dark, lean and chiseled.
 
His hair was raked away from his forehead.
 
Everything about him was perfect—his sleek, form-fitting black clothes, his looks, his air of confidence—but something was off.
 
I could faintly see through him.
 
He wasn’t really there.
 
It was as if he was a holographic image of some sort.
 

He cocked his head at me.
 
“If two can do that for you, what do you think they can do for me?”

I tapped into the amulets, willed them to wake me.

“I’ll have them,” he said.
 
“I’ve waited hundreds of years for them.
 
You’re no match for me and you’re certainly no match for Anna.
 
Have you met my dear Anna?”
 
He held out his hand and she kissed the back of it.
 
“She’s been charged to get them from you.
 
Then she’ll give them to me.
 
And then I’ll come out of hiding and claim this world.”

Wake up!

And I did.