Thank you to all my reviewers! I am so happy that people are actually reading my stuff and liking it. This one is a little bit longer than the other chapters, but I kind of got lost in her life for a bit. I probably could have gone on forever, but I didn't want to depress people too much. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
She could never be this intimate with just anyone.
She lies on his bed on her stomach, tracing the pattern of the duvet cover, while she exposes her innermost thoughts to him. She has always been guarded, especially after her parents died. She loved her parents, more than anything, but it was not always easy being their daughter. Being Elena Gilbert meant being the girl who had everything: wonderful parents, excellent grades, popularity, and an adoring boyfriend. Her life was a mirage, she explains. You think you see one thing and it ends up being something completely different, something that doesn't even exist. She glances at him from the corner of her eye – afraid to make eye contact – and sees him staring at her with a look of…knowing. Encouraged, she continues.
Oftentimes, she felt like her life was a house of cards. The wrong amount of pressure in a fragile area and the whole thing would come crashing down, leaving her unprotected. So she hid. She figured if she piled more and more on, perhaps the walls would build up so high and that no one could see in.
And she couldn't see out.
It's not like she was particularly unhappy, she clarifies. She didn't blame anyone for this – not her parents, not her friends. She did it to herself. No one ever said she had to be perfect. She just naturally assumed that perfection was a prerequisite for love. At this she pauses, choking up. He reaches out to her, putting his hand on the small of her back, knowing that for right now this touch is the only touch that is necessary.
She goes on to describe the mask she wore, the many facades of Elena Gilbert. How she became complacent, going along with ideas that did not interest her but were important to high school society. Partying, drinking, having sex. The truth of the matter is that she never knew what she wanted, what she needed, to make herself whole. Like every high school girl in America, she tried on different personalities to discover which she was. And like every other girl, she kept the best part of herself hidden, fearing that adoration was contingent on conformity.
Her parents' deaths were an awakening. A tragic, inconsolable one but an awakening nonetheless. After that, she figured what was the point of it all if shit like this could happen? Why please others when it's just going to be stolen from you at the end?
She describes the funeral to him, the bits and pieces she remembers. The way the flowers looked. The way Jeremy grasped her hand so tight that she thought it would break. How she thought that it was raining until she realized that it was her tears staining Aunt Jenna's dress. Mostly she just remembers feeling numb. Then after the reception when everyone had gone home, she went upstairs, got into bed, and didn't leave it for a week.
Literally, did not get out of bed for a week.
It was like she had drowned as well. Buried along with her parents. And for a brief moment, she wished she was.
He held his breath and kept completely still throughout this entire confession, fearing that even the slightest movement would wake her from this trance. Not wanting to disrupt her, he refrained from even consoling her, understanding that she didn't want to be consoled. Not now anyway.
She continues on with her descriptions of the abysmal depression she lived with for months: the hysterical crying, the loss of appetite, and the constant fatigue. Those months were a mixture of sleeping and staring at her walls. She pauses and lets out a sigh, closing her eyes.
It is this signal that he has been waiting for. He moves closer and practically lifts her into his arms. She clings to him like a lifeboat, terrified of what might happen if she lost her grip. He strokes her hair and whispers that he loves her – all of her, not just the parts she lets people see.
And with that, the walls slowly begin to crumble away.