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❝ not everyone is your responsibility. not everyone can be saved. ❞
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CHANGE IS THE SILENT KILLER. Enola watches it smash dreams to a pulp and stick it into a blender with hope. It guts her with a butter knife from her mothers antique set and she is crumpled on the pavement, the taste of iron and ether on her tongue that does more than catch snowflakes these days.
This is how it goes: doors get slammed, everything ends in tears, and mom doesn't hold her hand when they cross the street anymore. She vaguely recalled the blueberry bushes and how they would stain their fingertips purple and scrape their knees looking for salamanders back before distance swallowed them whole, back when they could still be everything. They didn't know how to wash blood out of their denim yet and they hadn't gotten it into their tangled heads that by the time they beg their parents for money and sprint outside, the ice cream truck is usually gone much like their innocence is now.
She is Icarus and her past is the sun. No paper-thin wings or hers stand a chance against the crushing reality of time because even though they are all well skilled in the art of running from monsters, no one ever taught them how to fight the calendar. No one ever taught them how to grow up. And now here they were, dealing with issues they shouldn't be having so early on in life.
"What are you looking for?"
Enola was yanked back into reality by Elena who had just spoken. The wonder twins stood in the operating theater with Meredith. Upon the discovery of Alaric having a split personality, the three had taken it upon themselves to check him into the hospital so they could run a few tests on his brain activity.
"I don't know. A tumor, vascular anomalies. Anything physical that might explain his behavior." Meredith explained simply.
"So you won't be able to find anything psychological?" Elena frowned.
"No," Meredith confessed. "But if it's something medical, I can treat it."
"And if it's not?" Elena questioned rather anxiously.
"Then we'll deal with that too." Meredith promised.
Enola stood behind the glass with Elena and Meredith, watching as a nurse got Alaric settled on the stiff scanning bed. When he laid flat on his back they slowly slid him into the MRI machine so they could read his brain activity clearly on the screens in front of them.
"When did you suspect Alaric was the one killing all those people?" Enola wondered.
"It was after he told me about his ring. I remembered a story my grandmother had told me about Samantha Gilbert and her secret journal." Meredith informed. "I don't know if you know this, but we Fells are notorious busybodies."
