Words Unspoken (The Vampire Diaries)

Chapter 20

As the flowers begin to blossom in the garden out back, our bare feet can feel the sprouting green grass tickle our toes. Sunshine blinds us with its rays, forcing me to squint in order to see where I am stepping. My hands tightly grip Elena's waist as I walk and I have this intense fear of her body slipping from my hold, but she just smiles fearlessly. Her lungs breathe in the crisp May air suddenly, a slow inhale of spring. I've grown used to the bulging belly beneath her dress, which protrudes like a basketball now. Elena leans her body into me more and I can hear how her energy slowly seeps from her.

"I'm proud of you, Ellie," I softly tell her with a grin.

At five months pregnant, it's hard to hide the baby anymore. The monks smile at us as we journey up and down the halls of the monastery, all wanting to see this beautiful angel as she balloons. Admittedly, I considered terminating the pregnancy for a week or two after Indira confirmed our child. The thought was agonizing, but I ultimately chose the decision I know Elena would have. No one is sure if the baby will be strong enough to live inside its mother's deteriorating body, but we're all willing to give him a chance.

"She'll initially be very ill, but once the fetus emerges from her, she'll heal quickly," Penden whispered to me in another room while Indira mixed up the fatal drink.

"How long?" I asked, picking at my cuticle with a clenched throat.

"Indira says an hour at most," The woman continued, "We'll leave you both for privacy."

I nodded solemnly, never making eye contact with her. The translator led me back to that tiny room I had come to know. The glass cup sat isolated on the dresser, waiting to feel its victim's lips line the rim. Before I could turn around to thank them, the two women had disappeared. My angel smiled from where she laid on the bed. She hadn't slept much the past few nights, and it showed.

The glass stayed tucked in the palm of my hand as I held Elena against me. Her body was reclined on my chest and ever-so-slightly her fingers stroked my arm. I kissed her cheek and felt as head began to pound at the thought of taking away a piece of both of us. Carefully, I rested my free hand on her abdomen, feeling the life radiating from the bump.

"Are you scared?" Elena whispered and my eyebrows furrowed questionably. "You tense."

"I'm tense because I'm cold," I lied, moving my touch to her sparse locks.

She closed her eyes then, smiling sweetly as I stroked her scalp. There were no more questions after that. Even as I pushed the glass up to her lips, she smiled. Her innocence was captivating, so potent that I had to keep my eyes from expelling the unwanted tears conjuring up inside me. The moment was long and the sound of bells rang stridently all around us.

"I can't lose you," I whimpered beside her ear, clutching the glass which trembled violently on her bottom lip, nerves tight as a drum as I leaned closer. "I-I have to do this."

No response. Panic overwhelmed me, and I quickly turned my face to look at hers. Rhythmic breaths fanned from her pout and I realized quickly that she had already fallen asleep. I took that as my will to stop. I took that as permission to set the glass back down on the bedside table.

Still, no one can deny that as the baby grows, Elena begins to shrivel more and more. Proportionally, the sicker Elena becomes, the more I regret my decision. The pain I feel when I look at her is inexplicable, unbearable. I have grown despondent and troubled and insane over these dreadfully long months, relying on bourbon to get me through each new day. I'm at the end of my rope, at a loss of what I can do for her. These walks through the garden are all I can give her that her body hasn't raped yet.