The Story of Emma Salvatore

Chapter 15

        When I woke up, I wouldn't get out of bed. I didn't eat or move. I stayed in bed all day and no matter how much Julia or my father pounded on my door, I refused to answer. They probably thought that I had killed myself. Good, because I had been contemplating it so they might as well get used to me being gone. 

        Halfway through the day, my father knocked on the door and screamed "Emma! Give me some sign that you are there or I swear to the good Lord that I will break down this door!" My response was I grabbed the closest thing, which was an unlit candle next to my bed, and threw it at the door with the loudest scream I could manage. I don't remember if I actually spoke words or if it was just a shriek. If I had managed words, they were probably some vulgar, nasty ones.

        I then heard footsteps walking down the stairs.  I broke down crying again.  All I could think about was that I would never see my brothers again. They were gone and I could do nothing to save them. All I wanted to do was to die so I could see them again. 

        The worst part of all of this was that when they died, they were angry with me. I would never get to apologize to them.  I cried and cried. I cried until the sun went down. Julia kept trying to come in to give me food through the day but I never moved. I didn't want to see anyone's face. Besides Stefan's and Damon's. 

        Damn Katherine to the deepest pits of hell where she will burn where she belongs. She had been the reason my father had killed them. She had made them in love with her for her own personal reasons. That selfish bitch. The only bright side of all of this was that she was gone from the world. But that didn't matter because Stefan and Damon were still dead so it made no difference. Another thought came over me. I was the reason they were actually dead. They blamed me for Katherine being found out and that was why they ran away. If I could have stopped them from running away, they could be alive.  

        They wouldn't be speaking to me but at least they would be alive. That would be better. The guilt I felt was to unbearable. They were dead because of me. If I hadn't told father then I would never had been involved and they would probably still be alive. 

        I finally couldn't take it any more. My life was nothing. I ran to my dresser and found my small knife that I kept for safe keeping. Sort of ironic that an item that purpose was to keep me safe was about to take my life. I smiled and laughed a small giggle through my tears. 

        Despite the fact that I was about to die, I couldn't help smiling. I griped the dagger tightly and brought it down to the skin on my wrist above my vein.