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❝ i don't have it in me to hear any more lies from you. ❞
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THE TROUBLE WITH A SECRET LIFE IS THAT IT IS FREQUENTLY A SECRET FROM THE PERSON WHO LIVES IT AND NOT AT ALL A SECRET FOR THOSE THEY ENCOUNTER. They encounter because they must encounter. Those people who see their secrecy before they see anything else and who drag these secrets out of them; sometimes with the intention of using them against them, sometimes with more benevolent intent; but whatever the intent, the moment is awful and the accumulating revelation is an unspeakable anguish. The aim of the dreamer after all is merely to go on dreaming. The dreams are their protection against the world. But the aims of life are antithetical to those of the dreamer and the teeth of the world are sharp.
Enola has always been the ultimate secret keeper. Though she realized that some things were not meant to be kept a secret. Perhaps this was one of those things. Or perhaps this was karma. Secrets and lies were what made the world go round. But she knew better than anyone that once the world stopped spinning, those very secrets and lies will eventually catch up to you. And they have certainly caught up now. Thanks to the appearance of a certain dead woman walking, things in the Gilbert household were certainly tense. What they don't tell you about secrets and lies is that you can spin them whatever way you like if you tell the story first.
"Is she up yet?" Alaric questioned, entering the Gilbert home with a look of panic.
"She won't come out of her room," Elena sighed, still distraught from the events of the previous night.
"Can you blame her?" Enola sighed, glancing up the stairs.
"What did you guys tell her?" Alaric inquired anxiously.
"Nothing. She won't talk to us." Elena shook her head.
"Again; can you blame her?" Enola continued.
"We're gonna have to fix this," Alaric declared.
"How?" Enola questioned. "We kept a pretty big secret from her."
"We had no choice," Elena defended.
"There is always a choice," Enola sighed.
A door slammed upstairs, drawing their attention. They turned just in time to catch Jenna jogging down the stairs with a duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. It was clear that she wasn't interested in fixing things.
"Jenna," Alaric breathed.
"I don't want you here, Ric. You need to go." Jenna muttered, shouldering past them.
