―book three in the folklore series
a child who lost everything
sits on the doorstep of a
house that is no longer there.
―the vampire diaries and the originals
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❝ he was an asshole and I am surprised he lasted this long. ❞
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TYLER LOCKWOOD WAS DEAD. Enola was just surprised Tyler had lasted this long. She hadn't seen him since he attempted to kill her and her unborn child. He was never in town when she came to visit. Which he was lucky for because she probably would have killed him then.
Damon had been the fortunate one who killed Tyler after Sybil and Enzo were captured. Enola now stood in the cemetery with Hope and Grace holding on to each hand. She had been spending enough time away from them since they had arrived in the town of Mystic Falls. She was just trying to help her friends. But the threat was currently withering away in a cell. She decided that she wouldn't be letting her children out of her sight any time soon. Not that they minded. They had fun with Lizzie and Josie, but their place would always be beside their mother. Even if that meant attending a boring funeral such as this one.
A mother and a daughter—what a terrible combination of feelings and confusion and destruction. Everything is possible and everything is done in the name of love and solicitude. The mother's injuries are to be handed down to the daughter, the mother's disappointments are to be paid for by the daughter, the mother's unhappiness will drift off to the daughter. It is almost as if the umbilical cord had never been cut.
Enola was twenty when this lesson was learned. She swore right then and there that her daughters would not suffer the same fate that she once had. She loved her mother but even she had moments where it felt as if she was destined for the same misery. Perhaps she deserved it though. Staring down at the grave she was reminded of how justified Tyler's anger had been. She had gotten his mother killed after all. If hell was real, that is where she would go.
"I was wondering when you guys would show up," Enola—along with Matt, Caroline, Alaric, and Stefan—whipped around to find Damon standing there with a large smile. "The body is probably starting to smell a little bit. Tried to keep it as intact as I could. But I got to admit, I got a little carried away about the whole ripping the throat out thing. My apologies to Donovan I'm sure you cleaned him up real nice." Stefan yanked the shovel out of the ground. "What are you gonna do with that? Stake me? Go ahead. Try it. But first . . . " Damon pointed towards the five freshly dug graves in the distance that they all had somehow failed to notice earlier. "Take your pick. Because I'm gonna bury every one of you."
"Mom," Hope muttered in fear, holding onto Grace.
"It's okay, baby." Enola promised, standing protectively in front of her daughters.
