Metanoia

Chapter Two

I would never call myself depressed. 

I had always been unhappy. Life in general was just a long series of pain and suffering and a few pauses of something akin to happiness. Katharine had been that to me. Even now, decades later I don't really know if that happiness was conjured from her, or my own. 

I don't write journals describing my melancholia. My brother did and he wears his heart on his sleeve. It made him reckless and full of denial. I knew what I was and I had accepted that. Stefan still believed that he could be somewhat human.

Stefan had ensnared himself in lies and dragged Elena with him, creating a nose for the both of them. Some day one of them will wake up next to each other only discover a stranger. Elena didn't see the ripper in him. Stefan didn't see the doppelgänger in her. I did and I was too tired to try to make them open their eyes.

Despite that I wanted both of them to live. 

We had traveled to Forks because the witch had some vision or the spirits told her that we should go here to defeat Klaus. I didn't believe that, but they did. I let them hope.

Forks reminded me of Falls a little bit, a sense of supernatural covered the town in its familiar stench. 

The diner was filled with people, mostly unknowing who or what we were. Still paranoia creep in easily. I close out the background noise of Bonnie, Stefan, Elena all the people in the diner. It didn't matter. I didn't care. I did that a lot. Or rather didn't, I didn't care about much. I think it was because it was the first step to caring and the last step was getting hurt again. I tried to avoid that, in doing that and trying to keep the switch on was a balance I had mastered. A balance that Stefan hadn't even realised existed yet. I wanted to help him to see that balance, that fine line between restraint and caring. 

I looked over the diner and a passing thought of disgust almost hits me over with the sincerity of it. How can they look so fucking happy? I clenched my jaw and press the thought down. It's impossible for any human to have made so many mistakes as me or any supernatural being for that matter. Sometimes I wondered if any being was meant to feel as much as we did. They loved calling me emotionless and even cruel. I wasn't. I was just smart enough to keep my emotions to myself. No one wanted to know about anyone's feelings or thoughts. That hadn't changed since the 19th century and I doubted it would. The diner was too bright in fluorescent lights and it burned his eyes harsher than the sun did.

I almost stop when I see her. She's alone. Not just physically. She was alone sitting by a table for six. But she was radiating loneliness, drowning in it.  Her entire body was hunched down like she wanted to hide. Dressed in dark clothes and like she didn't want to draw attention to herself. If it wasn't the for the familiar emotion she was radiating, I wouldn't have given her a second look. It was all very worn in, she'd been wearing those clothes for a long time and she almost looked used.

Dark tresses of hair covered her face as she starred at the table. I didn't know why I did it. Maybe it was because finally there was someone, very painfully human who seemed to understand the burden of life in itself.

She watched me when I had walked up to the table. I watched her. There was a slight flinch. Maybe of fear. Good instincts then. Human had a common trait of being too trusting. She looked at me. Truly looked. She didn't question why I was there or what wanted. She just silently observed. So I did the same.

She had possibly the saddest eyes I had ever seen on a human before. I could see myself in them. It made me waver for a second. Who was she and what had she gone though? She was young, too young to know anything. Yet her eyes spoke volumes.

I sit down opposite her.