It was a dark, cold night in Brooklyn. The thick, frigid air seemed quite welcoming to snow, but none fell. There was only peace across the city, except for one neighborhood. Blanketed with anxiety and curiosity, a quiet row of houses seemed suspended from time. One house in particular glowed dimmer than usual in the night.
In the small house, an older woman was tucking her granddaughter into a small crib. The little girl was much too excited to sleep, but she was obedient and loving as well. After only a few minutes of her grandmother's pleading, she lay still in her crib and attempted to say goodnight. Her grandmother only laughed at how difficult words were for the little girl. She returned the polite gesture, turned off the light, and left the room.
Tonight, Margaret Johnson figured, she would get no sleep of her own, as was the ongoing circumstance these past week. Reluctantly, she picked up a cook book she had already read over fifteen times, and began staring at a picture of a roasted chicken with basil. She eventually sat down on the couch and lazily reread the recipe
The silent night was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. Eagerly, Margaret rose from the couch and rushed to the door. A calling so late had to be important. Hopefully it was of the importance she desired.
When she opened the front door, she was greeted by an unfamiliar female sheriff and a beautiful young girl wearing thick, large glasses. They both stared at her with a certain graveness that was most frightening. The girl seemed in a state of shock herself.
"Ms. Johnson?" the sheriff called, her voice stern yet anxious.
"Yes?" Margaret replied shakily. "Are you here about Alex? Where is Sheriff Cooper?"
"I am Liz Forbes, the sheriff of Mystic Falls, Virginia," the woman informed. "This is my friend Katherine. May we come in?"
"Of course," Margaret said, gesturing them both in. She did not offer them to sit down, not out of impoliteness, but out of pure curiosity and fear. The seriousness of her visitors' expressions kept her in a state of incredible panic. But it seemed as if no one really intended to have a seat.
"Ms. Johnson," the sheriff began. "Your daughter Alex visited MysticFalls last week under unknown circumstances."
"Is she okay?" Margaret asked hastily. "Why didn't you bring her with you?"
The air in the room became filled with a pressure of great emotion. Katherine now had tears forming in her eyes, and Margaret could sense the horrifying information to come.
"Ms. Johnson," the sheriff sighed. "While she was there…Alex was murdered."
A strident shriek of despair emerged from Margaret's lips. She collapsed onto the floor and threw her hand over her mouth as tears quickly fell down her face. Both Sheriff Forbes and Katherine kneeled down to attend to the aching mother, but they seemed almost as upset as she was. Katherine broke into tears as well and gripped Margaret's hand weakly. For the rest of the night, the sheriff, Katherine, and Margaret stayed together, realizing just how heartbroken they were. No one dared to wake Elizabeth. The little girl's mother was now gone forever.