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❝ teacher by day, vampire hunter by night. ❞
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ENOLA WATCHED AS ANXIETY HAD MADE A HOME WITHIN THE CAVITY OF HER CHEST. She had packed up a suitcase, but it refused to leave her alone. She had learned to think that what she says is deficient before she even opened her mouth to speak. She had learned to carry a thermos around with her so that when her hands shake she can blame the sugar in her coffee. She had learned to expect the worst possible outcome to every situation and to never give herself an applause; when she succeeded, her mind told her it would be short lived. It always was.
Imposter syndrome clings to Enola like a second skin that—no matter how hard she tries to shake it off—is impossible to shed. She often wonders if there will come a time when she doesn't start a conversation by apologizing when she doesn't feel like even the furniture is bored of her. She often wondered if she would ever not stumble over her words, spitting them out as quickly as possible because she doesn't feel like what she has to say is interesting enough or perhaps without realizing it she had grown used to people speaking over her. Anxiety has outstayed its welcome. That was for certain.
Elena had to physically drag Enola out of bed thanks to the leech that was anxiety. She had woken up to a phone call from Stefan, informing her of the horrible news. The tomb vampires had somehow been released and two of them attempted to kill the Salvatore brothers. Fortunately, Stefan was okay. Unfortunately, Damon was also okay. She was livid with him. He had taken advantage of her clearly sad—not to mention underage—sister. He was damn near a sex offender. A predator! She had to pause and think for a moment. If Damon was a predator, what did that make Stefan? He was over a century old, after all. She decided it was best not to dwell on it right now. Especially when they had bigger fish to fry.
"I say we go to Pearl's, bust down the door, and annihilate the idiot that attacked us last night." Damon proposed as he entered the parlor with two Advil pills in his hand.
"And then what?" Stefan pushed. "We turn to the rest of that house of vampires and say oops sorry?"
"I can't believe you made a deal with her," Elena huffed, pacing the lengths of the room in agitation.
"It was more like a helpful exchange of information." Damon shrugged, plopping down on the couch beside Enola. "It's not like I had a choice. She's scary." He handed her the pills for the migrain, which she downed with the steaming hot coffee from her thermos before comfortably settling her feet into his lap. "Besides, she's gonna help me get Katherine back."
