PORTRAIT OF PENITENCE ,
It mattered not where Holly Hepburn's vagrant feet took her, the past's haunting vice grip and the tragic haze that loomed over her would never leave her in peace. She found herself back in the town of her old miseries...
portrait of penitence. chapter IV , the easier times, and the harder times. ( season 1. )
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( HOLLY ! )
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THE STREETS WERE DEAD.
She drove into the heart of Mystic Falls and turned into the street near the town square where the cold Gilbert House resided, in its whitewood and porch-swing glory. '4:44' the car clock emanated in a white light beside the name of the radio station, blaring the newest pop songs into the car. The day had only begun, and she hated all the songs that rang like church bells against her cranium.
"Never liked Justin Bieber anyway," she muttered.
Back into town, it was dull, dim, and seemed desolate of redeemable attributes; the playgrounds were barren, the swings deadly unmoving, and there wasn't a sign of life visible to her droopy eyes. Mystic Falls seemed like a ghost town to Holly's hazy gaze. It was an autumn morning but was nippy like winter. It all seemed bleak. The rustling leaves, black windows, and dark street lights made it the perfect backdrop for The Shining.
She maneuvered the steering wheel into the same block of her teenage life. Holly sighed, her eyes fixating on the look of the Gilbert House. Contrary to the rest of the town, this one bit did not seem so dreary to Holly. Even in the early hours, she could see the lights of the Simon residence bright as they arose for the day. The elderly couple might have been the only two she knew in the whole town who did not seem to be gossip-hungry hounds. She allowed herself to quirk up a miniscule –– barely even there –– smile on her face as their weekly banter over leftovers played in her mind.
Their lives seemed to be an illusion to Holly. She could have sworn she saw Wife Simone peek out of her window to witness the bizarre, untimely revv of a car travelling down the street she was accustomed to being bare at this hour. Holly didn't blame her, parking delicately on the cobblestone of her dwelling's driveway.
