Reminder : LJ & Julie Plec and a whole bunch of people own TVD not me. An AU story, a result of my twisted muse.
Chapter 1
Not even the sound of birds disturbed the stillness of the hallowed ground. Perhaps even nature kept silent in due respect despite it being midday.
I wasn't afraid, not even the eeriness of where I was could affect me. After all hadn't I visited this somber place in the darkest of nights. Pitch black nights with only the sound my breathing and the patter of my old worn-out sneakers to distinguish between nothingness and life. I shrugged off stories of dear departed souls or specters that lay in wait of the unsuspecting living. If it were true; I would then not be separated from my dearest momma. I would not have to carry this heartache, this pain, this loss that wearied me.
Day after day, I was the ghost, the specter that haunted this place of woe but I was part of the living. Exactly a year ago my beloved momma had been buried in this god-forsaken place; a cheap gravestone marking momma's final resting place. She deserved better my momma but this had been HIS revenge, condemning momma to the old abandoned pauper's grave in Mystic Falls. Nevertheless, I tirelessly cleaned momma's grave, sprucing it up with the various wildflowers I found nearby. Odds and ends, cards of poems that momma loved, I mourned her and I would continue to mourn her.
I came and went as I liked, nobody really missed me or cared about what I was up to. I suppose I should thank my lucky stars that HE feigned indifference where I was concerned. I stayed in HIS home, ate whatever meager scraps I could find and survived as best as I could, always keeping out of HIS way.
I'm not a goth, a witch, a member of the supernatural species or someone with an unhealthy interest in the dead, I'm just MARA, it means bitter. A fitting name for a child whose birth was the catalyst of all her mother's calamities. Despite my unwelcome birth, momma loved me and never ever contemplated giving me away. I once asked momma, why MARA? You know what she told me, when they look at you they will not see MARA but instead a beauty rarely seen in this world. However to HIM, I was a perpetual mark of momma's infidelity. HE never forgave momma. I have no last name except for momma's as she chose to take my father's identity to her grave. Even under compulsion, momma never told HIM who my father was. He wasn't there for my birth nor for momma at anytime after that. I didn't miss what I didn't know and I didn't care.