Any part of the floor that wasn't concealed by a body part was instead coated with blood, thick and flowing slowly across the floor toward the front door, where Bonnie's feet were planted by shock. Mere seconds had passed, but Bonnie could have sworn later that night that it had been hours. It was as though if she could stay perfectly still, none of the scene before her would be real.

"God," Jeremy breathed. Words evaded him as his mind blanked. He closed his hands around Bonnie's shoulders, which he realized were now trembling. "Bonnie." He started to pull her away. This shouldn't have happened. Not to Bonnie. This shouldn't have happened. The young woman before him had already determined that she would give herself up to the greater good. She didn't deserve for this to happen, and she shouldn't have to look at it now. The sight was beyond sickening to him, so what must she have felt? This was her family. In one fell swoop, Bonnie had just lost her entire family.

She made to take a step into her living room. She would have found her face inches from her Aunt Gina's head - sitting a foot away from her limbless torso on top of her cousin Jake's solitary right arm - if Jeremy hadn't wrapped his arms around her when her knees gave way.

Soft footsteps padded down the stairs, so quietly that she could have been floating. Perhaps she had been and didn't know it. Today she turned seven. That gave her four years to know that expecting her father to acknowledge her birthday, let alone to celebrate it, was like expecting a bee to kiss instead of sting you.

She had made that mistake on her first birthday after her mother had left. She still had the scar on her back where the glass coffee table had broken skin after her father had grabbed her roughly by the arm and swung her toward it. He knew he hadn't meant to harm her; he'd had a lot to drink for the second night that week and just wanted to be left alone. He'd wanted to be left alone every night since Abby had walked out of their lives, and she should respect his wishes like a good daughter would. That's how her seven year old mind had rationalized his attitude towards her. The truth was both of them were happiest when they stayed out of each other's way. So she made it a tradition to wake up early every year on her birthday to have a little party of her own before he woke up.

Like every year, a white box from Mariana's Bakery sat on the kitchen table, lid open. She perched herself in front of the box and opened it to find a personal-sized chocolate cake with cherry filling and butter creme icing, yellow cursive spelling "Happy Birthday, Bonnie! Love always, Grams" on top. A lit candle stood in the center. How it did so for at least an hour - as Grams sneaked in before work to leave it for her so she'd find it upon waking without her father's knowledge - without melting the wax was something she'd just accepted, never questioned, a practice she followed with everything her Grams did. A toothy grin spread across her face as she blew out the candle and cut her cake, celebrating her birthday in solitude.

The ride home, just like the ride to her father's brother's house, was completely silent aside from the hum of the engine. The summer reunion with her father's family had not gone the way he'd hoped. The plan had been to expose his daughter to complete and utter normalcy with the hope that she'd give up her mother's family's heritage. However, all his family had accomplished with their mundane behavior and conservative views was to frustrate her further to the point of anger. So many things she wanted to say to him. So many times she wished she could tell him how she always felt like the last resort after Elena and Caroline when it came to guys, how happy she finally was with Jeremy, how much Grams had meant to her with or without magic involved, how scared she was of what she could do or what she had to do. But her father was a hardheaded man; his way was right and that was that. He saw his last shot at a normal daughter was gone, as was her last shot at having a father in practice and not just in name. So the day after they returned to Mystic Falls, she went to see Caroline, Elena, and Jeremy, and he booked an earlier flight for his next business trip. They went back to being strangers living under the same roof.

Because as they'd learned a while ago, the truth was both of them were happiest when they stayed out of each other's way.

Hours later, after Bonnie had put up her walls enough to hold herself together temporarily, after Jeremy had helped Bonnie pack her belongings and the two had taken account, on Bonnie's insistence, of whose bodies lay in the house, the two got into their cars and drove to the Gilbert residence. He had spoken to Sheriff Forbes, who came to the conclusion that it would be best if Bonnie were away from her house and staying elsewhere when the police found her house aflame later that night. The news reports would include a rushed account of random acts of arson, one of which tragically targeted a reunion of the family of sole survivor Bonnie Bennett, who had fortunately been staying with a friend.

Jeremy and Bonnie carried her bags into what would indefinitely be her room. Jeremy moved to open her bags to help her settle in.

"It's okay, Jer. I'll do it," Bonnie mumbled.

"Bonnie-" Jeremy moved toward her. She tensed.

"Jer, I'm-"

"Bonnie, look-"

"Jer!" The two looked at each other searchingly. Bonnie took a breath. "Sorry, I just...can I be alone right now?" She looked at him imploringly. Jeremy sighed.

"You sure?" She nodded. "If you need anything, just let me know, ok? I mean it, Bonnie. Anything." She nodded again, and unwillingly, Jeremy walked out. She closed the door and pressed her back against it, steadying herself as she waited for him to go downstairs or to his room.

Bonnie looked around the unfamiliar room. Oddly, she'd never been in the Gilbert guest room. Now, it was her room. She felt suffocated and turned to the door. "Jer?" she called out as she opened the door again.

Jeremy stood leaning against the wall of the hallway merely a few feet from the door, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. Bonnie chuckled despite the tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Thought I'd stick around just in case," he said softly.

Bonnie ducked her head, nodding for a second before moving to him. Jeremy straightened up as Bonnie pressed her face in his chest, his arms encasing her. She buried herself in his arms further, trying as best as she could to shut out the harsh whispers and cries of ghost of witches past ringing in her mind. If Jeremy happened to look down at her neck and hands at that moment, peeking from under her blouse he would have seen inky black veins bulging slightly from her skin before concealing themselves again.