Veins of Desire

01. Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You

Eleonora Gilbert is mildly surprised to find out her aunt has already been released from the hospital. After that close brush with death on the kitchen floor yesterday evening, she thought Jenna would take a little longer to recuperate from her knife wound. But as she walks into the living room on this Saturday afternoon in late March, her favorite Georges Simenon novel under her arm and her tiny calico cat Cinnamon slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, contently purring into the microphone of her cochlear implant, she finds Jenna lying on the couch, laughing about something Matt has said.

The blonde quarterback is sitting on the armrest of the couch, the TV remote in hand, and zipping through the TV channels at Jenna's instruction. From the direction of the kitchen, Eleonora can make out faint, bustling noises. She stops in her tracks and puts Cinnamon down, who, in return, digs her claws into the teenager's shirt and skin, not wanting to leave her favorite spot on Eleonora's shoulder just yet.

She hasn't heard anyone coming home, but that's hardly surprising, considering her disability. While her hearing has greatly improved since she's gotten her cochlear implants, it's still nowhere near as good as that of a non-disabled person - and never will be. Without her prosthetics she's as good as deaf , only able to hear very loud noises directly next to her. It sucks, greatly so, but that's the card life has dealt her and there's no point complaining about something no one, save the white-haired, old man sitting in the clouds above, can change. She's ought to be thankful that she can hear something, at the very least and participate in conversations even though doing so usually tires her out fairly quickly.

"Hey, Jenna, Matt," she greets them with a faint little smile, ignoring Cinnamon's vocal complaints and demands to be picked back up. Honestly, if there's an award for the neediest and clingiest cat in the world, then Cinnamon would win the competition in a heartbeat. If she was allowed to, she would even follow Eleonora to school every morning. The girl could hardly go to take a poop in peace without the delicate little cat howling and scratching in front of the closed bathroom door, demanding to be let in.

Funnily enough, she's only like that with Eleonora. Jenna seems to be an adequate ear and belly rubber substitute for when Eleonora is not at home, but everyone else is being stayed clear of. Especially when Stefan, her twin sister's boyfriend, is around. Cinnamon doesn't seem to like him at all. If Eleonora doesn't know any better, she'd think the cat's scared for life around him.

"Hey," Matt shoots back, reciprocating her smile. Out of all the people her twin sister hangs out with on a daily basis, he's the one Eleonora likes best. Probably because Matthew Donovan is so refreshingly uncomplicated. He's the typical blonde and blue-eyed, sweet, boy next doors-type - always polite and respectful, despite the large burden he carries on his shoulders. After his sister's tragic death earlier this year, he's been living all alone in the Donovan's run-down little trailer home, having to work his ass off a the Grill after school in order to pay the bills. Whenever Eleonora's there, which isn't often, she makes sure to tip him extra.

"When did you get back?" she asks, turning to her aunt.

"Just now," Jenna replies, wincing in pain as she slightly shifts her position on the couch to pat her legs that are covered in a fluffy blanket, clicking her tongue to beckon Cinnamon over. "You can do me a favor and tell your siblings to stop hovering over me like some concerned parents. I won't die anytime soon, promise."

The cat hesitates, seemingly weighting its options, before jumping on Jenna's lap, her back demonstratively turned towards Eleonora, as if to say "That's what you get for being mean!" She immediately starts purring in utter bliss as Jenna starts to scratch her behind the ears, making biscuits on her lap.

"But you nearly did, Aunt Jenna," Eleonora reminds her, voice shaking slightly as she recalls the events of the last evening. Jenna's pain-filled scream, the sharp end of the kitchen knife buried in her stomach, all that blood...In that moment Eleonora truly believed her aunt to be dying. In her mind's eye, she already saw the coffin and grave with Jenna's name on top of it, right next to her parents at the cemetery.