Blood Dripping Hourglass
Hearts are red,
Veins are blue,
I'll deliver his next,
For it belongs to you.
As far as Valentine's Day greetings went, this one didn't elicit the swooning, heart-racing response. Scratch that. Her heart was racing but not due to anticipation. Her first inclination was to scoff at the awkward and contrived threat, and that response in itself was enough for her to realize that Klaus had rubbed off on her for the worst. The bubbling horror that would have been more appropriate initially shot to the surface when she saw what the threat was attached to- a silk package seeping blood.
Wrapped in the silk was a human heart.
Symbolically there was nothing superior. What could have been more self-gratifying than that level of ownership? She was embarrassed at her own vanity when she couldn't conjure up an instantaneous image of the one who loved her most….or who loved only her. Her suitors had always proved quite fickle if she was honest with herself. Threats were infuriatingly void of semantics on occasion. Vague threats were nuisances like that. They took on connotations that the sender probably didn't even take into consideration on inscription. Elena Donovan was presented with a multiple choice scenario….which victim in her jar of hearts was this blackmailer referring to? Whose devotion was leaking onto her porch soon to be followed by another spurned lover's?
It was too awkward for Damon, too gruesomely playful for Stefan even if he happened to be in 'ripper' mode. Her husband? She cringed at her own cynicism. Matt? Matt? Was nothing sacred to her?
As for Elijah…the execution style bore his trademark but she couldn't imagine him simply leaving the fruits of a vengeful murder on her doorstep while wearing the guise of chivalrous courter by day.
Not that he's courting her….she reminded herself quickly. Protector, she decided on, firmly. She jerked herself back to the present.
If it were any of the aforementioned men she would have hoped that their threats would be more articulate than this cobbled poetry that reeked of insecurity.
This was a clumsy effort, like a copycat killer that was too star struck to overcome stage fright. This fact offered her a twinge of relief but worried her in the sense that this offender was erratic and unskilled in these types of matters. She couldn't shake the feeling that she might be a mere practice round in the theatre of vengeance.
Still indecisive she hesitantly bent down on her knees, took an unused napkin from her handbag and took the anonymous heart in her hand.
Unsure whether it was a bluff or not, she took it firmly in her grip, opened the front door with her key and did her utmost to put the leaking red time bomb out of her head as she wiped her porch clean. She did not need her children to find it upon their arrival home from school.
She hid it in her vanity and tried to focus on her wrinkles rather than the latest addition to the box. She then poured herself a glass of wine and found herself laughing at the naivety of her eighteen year old self for believing Klaus when he promised her and her loved ones complete safety if she became his glorified blood bag.
She forced herself to enjoy the one last semblance of peace the last gulp of wine brought her before she rang Elijah and was rendered responsible for possibly unleashing hell.