On My Own (TVD Series)

Death By Deception

Sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor where my heels were scattered, the last few hours have all slurred into one long night. For hours my brain was turning nonstop, constantly flashing back to 1855 and all the years prior. It had only been a few days since Liz died, and though for me this day is supposed to feel like no other, it was heavy and dreadful. The entire house was deafening, with the sound of Stefan's feet shuffling and Damon's pen digging into the kitchen table, my mind was never at ease.

Pulling on the straps of my dress over my shoulders, I fixed the collar, clipping together the clasp near my neck before running the zipper up my back. A chilling feeling surged up my arms as the cold zipper had rested against my skin.

"...hey, are you ready?" Stefan whispered, seeing him standing outside of my door.

"Almost..."

Kicking some of the heels under my bed, I slipped on a black pair before standing up and grabbing my coat from the chair.

"I'm gonna head over to the church, Damon's gonna wait for Elena...I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me."

"...I'll drive myself. I have to go home and pack up some paintings..." I mumbled.

"You're selling again?"

"No, just art conservations..."

"Hmm...well, I'll see you later then." Stefan sighed, leaning away from my door.

"...bye."

Watching him through the opening of my door, old glimpses of years before started to flash inside my head. The strong smell of alcohol in my fathers' breath as I waited at the door ready for our mother's service. A moment meant to be filled with grief and utter pain had somehow become numbing in all the wrong places.

Quietly stepping down the stairs, I hovered around the living room, tossing my coat on the couch while I passed through the kitchen. Sitting in the middle of the dining table, Damon sat with his back towards me as I opened the fridge.

"...what are you reading?" I asked.

"I am reading the number of times I have failed writing this eulogy."

"You're in charge of Liz's eulogy?"

"Yeah...she asked me to do it just before she...she died."

Stepping closer to Damon, I took the seat next to him, facing the opposite way with my back resting against the table.

"...you know, after so many funerals...this has been the hardest for me."

"Why?"

"Because...Liz was a good mom, she lived a good life and she was loved. most of the mothers in my life never got that." I mumbled, sipping on my cup.

"...I can still smell dad's breath...he had locked his bedroom door before coming over to see me."

"What did he say?"

"The usual...'You would look better if your mother had taken her time to teach you, but she got sick'...he left after that." I sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because you were busy with mom's eulogy, and everyone was already dealing with enough...I just went through the day thinking nothing of it. Guisseppe was a drunk, broken man...who was left in charge of kids he didn't even love."

"...you're right."

"I mean, could you remember a nice memory in which he actually loved us...I can't even remember the first time he hugged me, or held me and told me he loved me."