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"And I'm dancin' all this pain away
and I'm falling down again and nobody knows,"
god save the girl; riovaz
𓆩♡𓆪
It had been two months since the death of Edith's parents. She had spent that two months in holding cells, talking to lawyers, in court, sorting out her parents belongings, and packing her life up and moving to Beacon Hills.
Edith had lived in Beacon Hills when she was a baby before moving to Washington with her adoptive parents - so this place was unfamiliar, scary even. The energy she picked up on when she passed the welcome sign, was not so welcoming.
It had been determined that Edith was not guilty for her parents murder, instead it was a freak murder. The culprit, still at large. And even though there were no fingerprints - and Edith never physically harmed her parents. She knew she was at fault.
She had signed their lives away to the literal devil. Just so she could re-diagnose herself with another problem: being a demon.
To Edith, nothing seemed to have changed, she looked healthie, she was physically stronger and couldn't break bones easily, yes. But she was literally a form of evil.
She hated it! No, she hated herself, far more than she had before.
Edith learned that being around negative energies and emotions made her stronger, things like anguish, pain, grief, chaos, etcetera.
She figured this out by spending time in the hospital, waiting outside the morgue, as officials assessed her parents' mauled bodies.
She should've felt pure pain, absolute suffering. But instead she felt powerful.
At that very moment - Edith decided she wasn't worthy of people anymore.
If Edith went too long not feeding off of negative energies, she got weak. Which she let happen often. The brunette girl felt guilty - guilty for preying upon people's pain and growing strong because of it. So, she let herself go on, until she became so weak she would collapse.
If she was alone before, then she was utterly desolate now.
She asked to be normal, not... this.
It had only been a week since the girl had moved in with her estranged Aunt and Uncle, Margrot and David Whittemore. And, her detached cousin, Jackson.
These people were practically strangers to the girl, Edith's mother barely talked to her brother when she was alive.
They hadn't even known how severe her Brittle Bone disease was when she moved in, asking questions like, "Does that mean you're fragile?""Are you able to go to school?""How expensive are your doctor's appointments?"
