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Estella stared at the blank white canvas. That is what you see if you look from another perspective. But in the teenager's mind, she was picturing what she was going to put on the canvas—images of what she felt.
From a young age, she found it difficult to express her emotions, especially extreme ones. Ever since her parents' death, she found it even harder. Carol, who had found a place in the child's heart six years ago, bought her a journal so that she could write down her feelings, knowing Estella was sad and scared after the loss of her parents and her move to a new place with people she had never met.
The Lockwoods always tried to make the orphan feel welcome in the Lockwood mansion, like it was her home. So one day, wanting to understand what the child was feeling, Carol opened the journal she had given Estella, only to find drawings instead of words. Even though she didn't understand exactly what Estella had drawn, the black, red, and yellow colors displayed were enough to show how deeply the Harper girl expressed her emotions through her art. The next day, Carol showed the journal to the Mystic Falls School's art teacher, who was amazed by the girl who never spoke but expressed herself so beautifully through her drawings.
Realizing Estella's gift for painting, Carol gave her an unused room in their house to use as a studio. Years later, people in town saw Estella as one of the Lockwoods, no matter how much the family insisted she was a Harper, not a Lockwood. That didn't stop the town from seeing her as their perfect golden child.
Estella picked up a brush she felt was right for the task and dipped it into water. It had only been two days since his death. After drying the excess water from the brush, she took a tube of gray paint and mixed it with a bit of white. She began painting the background, blending gray and white together as only one thought ran through her mind: Mystic Falls is the new hell for the devil himself.
A knock on the door broke her train of thought. Allowing her paranoia to take over, she kept the brush in her hand as a weapon, just in case. To her surprise, it was Mason Lockwood, wearing a gray tank top and holding a cup of coffee. Even though his smile seemed genuine, Estella still had the urge to slam the door in his face.
"We both need to talk," Mason said, handing her the cup. Estella, having been taught by Carol to be ladylike, gratefully accepted the cup and placed it on a nearby table, along with the brush. Keeping her hands clasped together, she looked up at him and smiled. "Unless the discussion is about my Christmas gift, I don't want to talk to you, Mason."
The brunette reached for the door to slam it shut, but Mason was faster. "I know you know about them, and I also know that none of them know about you." Estella smiled sweetly and whispered in a tone she knew he would hear, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Suddenly, she felt her back hit the wall, and Mason's hands gripped her shoulders. A ray of sunlight streamed through the window, hitting him, and Estella saw him clearly as his face came close to hers. Before he could speak, she used the ladylike manners Carol had taught her and kicked him where it hurts. He dropped to both knees, and Estella twisted his left arm, positioning herself behind him as she grabbed his neck and shoved him against the wall.
