Anastasia Salvatore 2

Chapter Seven

25th September; 1864

"Stop moving," my mother says as she fixes my hair.

I stare at the floor, having her words go through one ear and out the other.

"Stop fidgeting" She slaps my hand as I stop playing with my heavy dress. She steps back, making sure there wasn't anything else needed to be done. "Stay right there, I'm going to go get your father" She says calmly as I ignore her, continuing to stare at the ground. She walks off, leaving me and my brothers alone in the courtyard.

"Anastasia" Stefan says though I don't answer.

"Ana look at us" Damon speaks up as I sigh deeply, looking up over at them.

"We um..." Stefan goes to say but he stops himself. "You look very beautiful" He decides to say, not wanting to mention his original thought.

I knew what they were both thinking. They pity me... I pity me... Neither of them have bothered to mention what had happened. I know they want to but if father were to hear... Maybe it's for the best they don't mention anything. I suddenly feel Damon come up to me and hug me, the first interaction.

"Okay you three, come over here!" Our mother returns with our father, who as usual, looked as if he had something better to do.

"You three will have a photo and then your father and I will have one" Mother informs us as we walk over to the photographer. My mum grabs a hold of my wrist, pulling me over to a stool, seating me with slight force. She adjusts my dress, before lifting my chin.

"Don't move" She eyes me as I take a gulp of air. My brothers stand behind me as we stare into the huge camera. The photographer ducks under the black material, which hangs behind the camera, as he prepares to take our picture.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father standing there, watching me with his evil, beady eyes. All I could think of was the way he looked while Benjamin had the noose wrapped around his throat. This is all my fault.

A flash comes from the camera as I realise our photo was done. I had almost forgotten we were there, in that moment.

"Move, your photo's done" Our mother suddenly says, nudging us away.

I peer over to my parents, not having many feelings towards them. I make my way upstairs, going into my bedroom. I sit on my bed, holding a pillow close to my chest. My mind wouldn't stay quiet, buzzing wild as if I had hundreds of bees trapped in my head. I despise this town, I despise this house, I despise my father. I don't want to feel as though I'm a prisoner within my own house anymore. I don't want to be near this horrid place. 

A few hours pass though my thoughts stay intact. I grab my small bag, ready to leave this god forsaken house. I quietly tiptoe down the stairs, hoping not to disturb anyone. I peek into the lounge room as I watch my father stare into the fire, drink in one hand, cigar in the other. He takes a swig of his drink before following it with a puff of his cigar. I sneak past, hoping he wouldn't turn my way. I open the door, flinching at its slight creak, as I peer over my shoulder, expecting to see my father there. Though, he wasn't. I squeeze through the gap, hoping not to open any further in case the wood dared to creak again. I take a couple of steps down our porch before jumping slightly out of fright, as Damon comes up to me from the darkness.

"Where are you going?" He asks, his voice deep and calm.

"I'm... leaving" I say softly, unsure how he would react.

"And where exactly will you go?" He questions, peering at my small bag. I remain silent, looking down at my shoes as I think of an answer.

"I don't know" I admit sheepishly.