Beauty of Darkness (Elijah Mikaelson)

Chapter 4

It had been three days since I started at Rosseau's.

The first few days were normal, and I felt myself to begin opening up again. Who knew that becoming bartender at a French Quarter dive bar would be my source of serotonin. Right as everything started to become slowly brighter, however, the good inevitably came to a screeching halt. It would've been nice to have something that I enjoy, but apparently that's too big of a dream.
It was Saturday night, and we were flooded with a wedding party that seemed to be larger than the population of a small country. Mind you this was completely unexpected, and only Cami and I had been working that night. After pouring enough beer, gin-and-tonics, and rum-and-cokes to drain the bar's entire alcohol supply, the once comforting, dark room had begun to close in. I hadn't been in a room that large since the accident, and everyone was moving at a pace that I couldn't process yet. I bit off more than I could chew, and the darkness took full advantage of it.

I wanted the feeling to go away. I wanted to be able to have fun and enjoy what I was doing. But, I couldn't. Every time I thought I was loosening up, every time I thought that I could forget about what my life had become, I thought of her. I would think about how I lived, about how I got chosen to continue being alive. She didn't. Why did life chose me? Olivia was beautiful, kind, and completely selfless. Anything she did, she did with purpose and passion. Anyone she met was immediately touched by her endless compliments and reassurances. Anyone who met me saw me as a shadow, even when I wasn't the ghost I am today. I wished I could've told everyone how I felt, especially her. But, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't face the fact that she's not here. On top of that, it was because of me. 

My spiral had failed to make me realize that I was standing in the middle of the bar with tears streaming down my face. The once vibrant room of happy dancers stood still as if a murder had just taken place. 

Thoughts echoed throughout my mind, some telling me to run, and others telling me to just crouch into the fetal position and run away to Antartica. The stares of the concerned party-goers pierced into me like sharpened knives, and I couldn't hear their mumbled judgements over my mind pounding with thoughts to never go in public again. Cami, being the amazing human being that she is, managed to divert the staring eyes away with promises of free beer. Eventually, as soon as it left, the jovial spirit of Rosseau's reappeared.

Cami ran to my side, leading me away from the middle of the dance floor. She, filled with concern, led me to the back room of the bar. Despite my claims of sanity, she made me force down a glass of tap water and a granola bar that tasted at least twenty years old. 

"Wynter..you need to tell me what's going on with you" Cami asked with concern and she placed her hand on my shoulder. "You have been acting off since your first day, and I'm scared that something's going on."

I wanted to let everything out. I wanted to scream about how I felt trapped within myself: unable to say how I feel because of how truly empty I felt. I wanted to scream that I couldn't bear to look in the mirror since Olivia died because whenever I saw myself, I saw her. But, most of all, I wanted to scream that I never got to say goodbye that night. 

Realizing the question, unable to let my thoughts leave the tip of my tongue, I ran as fast as I could from the one person who made sure I was okay in months. I didn't stop: not after I heard Cami yelling for me, not after I pushed through the parade of people crowding the streets of the Quarter. I didn't care who I hurt anymore: I just wanted to go home. 

As soon as I reached the sanctuary of the apartment, I ran past Danielle without a passing-glance. She yelled to me, but I had no interest. She didn't understand what I was going through, nobody did. This was my curse, my burden, and nobody should deal with it but me.

I slammed the door to my room to the point of breaking, cursing to myself about what I had became. I couldn't stand that I kept shutting out people with good intentions just because of my inner demons. I wanted to live a life that wasn't consumed with grief and guilt, but it seemed impossible. 

It has been a week since that night. I went back to Rosseau's to talk to Cami last night, and, of course, she was nothing but understanding. That light of positivity had faded, but it  is there. I know it is. That night had been one of my lowest points, but it was not going to consume me. Olivia wouldn't have wanted that, and I'll be damned if I don't force myself to live the life that she always wanted for me. My sister always had big dreams for me, and I was going to use my new home to assure those dreams come true.