Ice Veins; Ice Heart

the fallout and the backlash

Through the passage of time
Kings never die

"How is Bella doing?"

"Good I guess."

"How are you?"

There it was. Those three words that Ilsa dreaded. There were a quite a few of those words in the past couple days. Everyone said them along the same themes. They had a sickeningly sweet voice that accompanied their weak smile as the asked how she was coping with her father's sudden demise. The words felt like knife in the back to her. Everyone knew how she was doing. But somehow they expected her to be fine with what happened and move on. They all told her she was young and should move on but how could she?

How could she not mourn for the person in her life who was ripped away without so much as a goddamm goodbye?

She hated those words. Ilsa wanted to scream at everyone who ever muttered those words. But she couldn't. She had to respect the social convention and smile. I am fine was expected and appropriate response and she gave the people what they came for.

"I am fine."

"Ilsa."

"I am fine."

"Emily wants to know if you guys need anything?"

"We are fine."

"You can't isolate yourself Ilsa! This is preposterous! I know you are grieving...."

Billy's words waved through the static of the home telephone. Ilsa zoned out through his big speech of responsibility and how important it was to grieve with people surrounding you. It was something about being healthy but she was just so tired she couldn't will herself to hear anymore. Ilsa hung up the phone and threw it away.

Ilsa sat on her living room couch. Staring at the wall next to old television. The news was blurring in her vision. Ilsa couldn't concentrate fully on the words the anchor spoke. Something about disappearance and bears in the woods. A mention of an honourable small town police captain who was mauled to death was mentioned. Tears pooled in her eyes as the words formed a dagger, sinking deeper and deeper into her heart.

In front of Ilsa was the coffee table.

The coffee table was a mess. Old magazines, letters of condolences, official documents and dirty plates cluttered around the table. Green and blue empty bottles of liquor surrounded the table like minions that aided in her grief. Ilsa was not proud of it but there was also a half-used bottle of her anxiety medication.

Ever since Charlie's passing her own parents had become insufferable. They were worried about her wellbeing. At first Ilsa listened to their words but after a while she just wanted to be left alone. She didn't want to listen to her parents exaggerated worries of a vampire hunting the Swan family.

Ilsa welcomed the ill-begotten vampire. She wished for nothing else than for Victoria to show up at her doorstop. Ilsa would personally take pleasure in making Victoria's death quite slow and agonizing. She would make every passing second of time feel like an eternity of torture for the redhead. She would break the vampire and piece her back together just so she could break her into a million pieces again.

Those were how Ilsa passed the days.

Inebriated and medicated she dreamt of inflicting pain and torture. She trotted into the darkness with open arms and a maniacal smile on her face. She found comfort in the pessimistic tone of the world.

Grief had fallen over the Swan residence like a cloud of odourless green that tainted the sisters outlook on life. Happiness was a thing of folly and fairytales.