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chapter one. — "another time, elizabeth." ════⋆͛♡⋆͛════
ELIZA PEELED OPEN her eyes to peeling paint. It was nothing but old furniture and dust flying everywhere. As soon as she gained consciousness, everything rushed into her brain, finding Regina's dead body, being kidnapped.
Eliza's eyes drifted to the side, eyelids jumping out of shock. A complete duplicate of her lay unconscious beside her.
The only name that could be placed to the face was Katherine Pierce, there was no way this was Elena Gilbert. Her twin, her childhood best friend. Just even thinking about her triggered the tears. They slid down her face with ease as she faded into the last time she tried to see her.
Eliza was practically vibrating with excitement. After six and a half years of unanswered letters, desperate pleas, and her birth parents slamming every door between her and her twin, she was finally here. Finally about to see her sister.
She raised a hand to knock, but before she could, the door swung open. Miranda and Grayson stood there, coats in hand, clearly on their way out.
Eliza blinked. "I... didn't know we were going somewhere." She let out a nervous laugh, but the way they startled at her voice—like they hadn't expected her to be there at all—sent a shiver of unease down her spine.
Miranda recovered first, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Elizabeth, we're really sorry, but tonight isn't a good time." She feigned a grimace, the apology hollow.
Eliza's smile vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering fury. "I drove fifteen hours—ironic considering i'm fifteen—from New Orleans to Virginia in a beat-up minivan that barely made it, just to be denied seeing my twin sister for the 37th time. And yes, I've been counting. Are you joking?"
Grayson shifted uncomfortably, guilt flickering in his expression. Miranda, however, didn't budge.
"Another time, Elizabeth," she said, her fake smile tightening, the cracks beginning to show.
Eliza felt something snap. Her pulse pounded in her ears, rage boiling beneath her skin. The vein in her forehead throbbed, a silent warning. "I can't stand you," she hissed before turning on her heel and storming down the stairs.
She didn't hesitate. Yanking open her car door, she grabbed every scrap of garbage littering the seats and hurled it onto their pristine front lawn. Wrappers, old coffee cups, receipts—she made sure it all scattered nicely before climbing in, slamming the door shut, and peeling out of the driveway without a second glance.
