"In order to rise from its own ashes, a Phoenix first must burn."
― Octavia E. Butler
The dust beneath the gravel kicked into a cloud as one Caroline Forbes scurried through the walkway leading towards, or in her case, away from her home since childhood. It was a modest arrangement, a simple one bedroom hut that served more as a shelter from the elements than anything else. The rising sun shone against her irises' in the most mocking of ways, telling her that though her life has just ended—everyone else continues on, and happily at that.
Caroline was never one to complain about much.
Her mother was killed by an animal when she was an infant, leaving her without a single memory of the blonde haired woman. Despite that fact, or perhaps because of it, Caroline would spend most of her teenage life dreaming about the woman that her mother had been. While her father would spit out the word's "scum" or "wench" if provoked, she'd taken the habit of substituting those words with better ones, such as (but not limited to) "angel," "brave" and "courageous."
She proudly modeled herself after what she pictured her mother to be.
Some odd months after her thirteenth birthday, her father had shown up to their small little hut completely inebriated for the first time. At the time, the reasons for his violent outbursts were lost on her. Eventually she made out enough of his drunken ramblings to know that he was projecting his anger towards her mother onto her, especially because she had inherited her blonde hair and blue eyes. He hated that about her, just like he hated her.
It was on the eve of Caroline's fourteenth birthday when he struck her for the first time. It certainly hadn't been the last occurrence like it, however.
He became a full-blown alcoholic, but perhaps worse than that: he was also an avid gambler. 'An addicted gambler.' Caroline found her mind correcting herself, deciding to ignore the fact that it was irrelevant either way.
As the daughter of a blacksmith, she was expected to pull her fair share as it was. With the added pressure of her father no longer bothering to do his work, she had to rely solely upon herself to put food on the table. She made her own soap, soap that she was quite proud of. Not only did it smell delightful, but the process of making each bar took long enough for her to be able get lost inside her head.
It wasn't a perfect life. She had to wake up at four in the morning basically every day to make more soap for the following days, and then set up her cart in town to sell it. She worked hard day and night to make sure some gambling alcoholic that she called 'papa' wouldn't drink himself to death, and to ensure at least an inkling of meat clung upon her frail bones. It wasn't perfect, but it was her life—and complaining about it was fruitless.
So, she knew her reaction to the night's events were spot-on. Her life had been full of hardship, but she'd always justified that everyone's was. She couldn't justify this. Who else had a father who would just –just sell her off? Give her away to someone that was about to murder HIM only minutes before!
He hadn't even shown the decency to look guilty! He only told her to pack her belongings, that they were taking a walk somewhere. Caroline was smart enough; she knew that whenever they took walks, it was for a purpose. They were too poor to afford a carriage, or even a singular horse, and walking was often the only option.
Caroline quite enjoyed walking for sport. The woods behind their small hut shielded the most beautiful lake that she'd had the pleasure of seeing. When she was little, she'd often swim in it and entertain dreams of being a mermaid—living forever in the water, where her snotty neighbor Molly couldn't get her. As she got older, the fantasy progressed. She dreamt of living in the trees and making due off of any forest animals or berries she might find. She went as far as to imagine killing some woodland creature in the winter for warmth.
She may be naïve about a lot of things, but her hunting ability wasn't on that list. She'd die within a week. Thinking about it now, though, the option seemed much better than dying at the hands of some stranger that her father enraged.
Instead of packing her things, she insisted to be informed of the situation. It was then when he drunkenly recalled the events that had transpired that evening. She could almost picture it.
Her father bumping into someone who was probably twice his size. The man demanding an apology but in return only getting a poorly coordinated punch that was aimed for his jaw, only to be landed on his eye. The man giving him a final warning and walking away, only to realize later that her precious papa had stolen all of his coins. Her precious papa bargaining her life for his as if she wasn't his only child.
Without quite realizing it, she was heading in the direction of her safe haven. Hot, steamy tears fell down her face now though; she was unable to hold back the scorching emotions that she'd tried to delay any longer.
She felt her legs give in beneath her and the tears overwhelm her. What had she done to deserve this fate? She prayed before every meal, she never spoke ill of anyone, and she was fairly sure that she hadn't known the kindness of the human form once in her entire life—but she tried to show it to others as often as possible. So why her? How could this truly be her fate—her destiny?
The shade of the trees looming overhead masked the sunniness that had previously mocked her, but as the trembling words slipped past her lips, Caroline couldn't help looking to the sky anyways: "what have I done to upset you, Father?"
The lack of response only brought upon more of a downpour.
"WHY ME?" She howled to the sky in agony, not bothered by the dirt infesting the golden locks that reached her rear end.
She was met with only the echoes reverberating back to her, reminding the young woman once again of how truly alone she was.
Caroline wasn't sure when she fell asleep on the forest floor; after all, tears have a funny way of sneaking sleep upon you. She'd expected to open her eyes and be met with the humidity that went hand in hand with the summer afternoons in Massachusetts. Instead, she blinked several times when she realized that it was the same hut in which she was born. She sat up so quickly that she was caught in a dizzy spell.
Surely that hadn't been a dream. She was sure of it. It was just last dawn when her father returned home to inform her of her approaching departure. Her small cot was across the room from her fathers, and it was there that he laid in the usual drunken stupor that took up his days.
It was eerie, how similar to any other day this appeared to be. Outside she could hear the Smiths' chickens clucking and their mother, Maggie, calling for her youngest to come inside. She looked around the hut for proof- anything to prove to herself that she wasn't going insane. Finally, she spotted it. The ceramic vase she had thrown at her papas' head earlier that morning, before she made her dash to the woods.
A wince made way to her face before it could be stopped as she touched the spot in her arm that would surely bruise. She paid for throwing it, just as she paid for being alive.
With the realization that she wasn't crazy came the realization that she didn't have much time. Caroline Forbes was a survivor first and foremost, and she wasn't about to be brought down just because her papa proved himself useless once again. She was better than this fate, and she absolutely refused to settle for it.
Her throat tightened as she began to pack away the minimal clothes that she had, her mind wandering to what would happen should this mystery person come for her. No doubt his beatings would be worse than papas (after all, papa only punished her because he loved her—with love comes discipline, as he always says) and he might even... her throat constricted even more, if that was possible, as she thought of the physical things that could happen.
She wasn't completely innocent. She'd fallen in love with a boy who attended her church only two years ago, at the ripe age of fifteen. Tyler had been her first love, her first kiss, and the first man she'd let touch her intimately. Although they never went beyond curious touching, Caroline wasn't naïve enough to think that this man—who now OWNS her body—wouldn't take advantage of that fact.
The blonde found herself hurrying to pack even more with those thoughts plaguing her.
The young woman was already halfway out the door before she found herself pausing. She'd somehow gotten from the forest floor to the hut and there was only one person who could've brought her back to the safety of her home. Turning quickly, she walked the three steps it took to reach the cot that her papa had fallen asleep on.
She was always amazed at the fact that he looked so harmless when overtaken by slumber. For once, he looked like a free man, instead of one plagued by his sins and misfortunes. She knelt beside him and pressed a firm kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, papa."
With those parting words, she left her life behind once and for all, in hopes that out of the ashes a phoenix would rise.
I knew that I wanted to write this fic the second that they introduced Klaroline to us! Just a few notes before you go on your way. This is supposed to be set in the very late 1800s- early 1900s, right when cars were becoming popular but still only for the wealthy.
If you aren't into angst, don't shy from this just because of Car's dark past—the whole point of it is to show how it's only made her stronger. I'm a sucker for female leads that actually deserve it.
Finally, this is my first ever TVD fic! I've done dozens of others throughout the years, but I always find it weird when breaking in a new fandom. Some reviews might make me feel welcomed. ; )