Chapter Text
The old, rickety stairwell of my childhood makes no noise as I lightly descend the steps. Stopping outside of the kitchen entryway, I listen in as Elena and 'Uncle' John have a semi-nice conversation for once. Something's wrong, Elena sounds… different.
I peek my head round the corner just in time to see 'Elena' cut off several of John's fingers, mainly the one with his resurrection ring I note. Oof, looks painful.
"Hello John," Definitely-not-Elena says, then proceeds to stab him in the gut. "Goodbye John."
Oh snap. That's not good, I would normally vamoose, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's too late for that. Yep, definitely too late. Katherine, (which is who I decided she must be, after the Salvatores told me of her,) is looking directly at me. Deciding to bite the bullet, I step forward a little and lean against the doorframe.
She flashes towards me in an instant, fangs out and veins pulsing. "Hold that thought," I said, stopping her from attacking me with an outstretched palm. Surprisingly, she stopped, a very confused expression on her face.
Training my ear upon the sound of Elena talking to Stefan on the phone right outside the front door, I turned back to the slightly confused doppelganger.
"I estimate you have around one minute and forty-two seconds before my dearest sister ends the conversation with her boyfriend. You can either stand there and gawp at me, or make your escape, choose wisely." I rapidly spoke, not mincing my words.
Katherine contemplated for half a second, made a 'eh, whatever' face, and then headed towards the living room. Where I assumed she would make her epic escapade via the window. Right before she made it out, she half-turned to me, mouth open as if she were about to ask a question. But then the front door creaked open and Elena walked in.
She had barely made it to the stairs when she caught the loose trail of blood out of the corner of her eye. I hid myself in a corner as Elena rushed to John's side. Gee, and I thought she didn't even like the guy. As she tended to what was left of his hand, I sneaked out by keeping to the walls and not making any sudden movements.
When I had safely made it to the entrance of the living room, I looked back to see that Katherine had whooshed out just as Elena had glanced up. My feet make no sounds as I rush upstairs, not hardly breathing until I had secured my bedroom door behind me.
Letting out a deep sigh, I rejoiced in the fact that I had successively avoided my sister. My room's dark theme comforted me as I practically collapsed on the floor. It gets me, y'know? Staring up at my ceiling, I thought of many things.
One, now that the Salvatores' ex-fling was in town, it's sure to not to be a quiet place anymore. Two, Katherine is at least five- hundred years old, she's sure to have acquired many enemies during that time. Three, I need to put a proper security system in this house, it's getting to be like just any old vampire can walk in here.
Sighing yet again, I begrudgingly get up from my very comfortable place on the floor. My bed seems so far away, even though it's only two-and-a-half feet from where I'm standing. The tussled plaid covers are basically screaming at me to just crawl in and never get up. Which is becoming more and more appealing every day.
My dresser next to the door has stacks of neatly arranged books piled on it, a contrast to the scuffed bottom from me shoving it in front of my door. Hey, gotta keep out the prying sisters, am I right? The only light source is a lamp, located on top of the nightstand next to my bed, also covered with books.
If you listen very carefully, you can hear a faint hum coming from a corner of my room. The cause of said noise is a laptop plugged in atop my desk, the screen displaying at least nineteen different tabs, not counting the ones sorted in groups.
Ignoring the few warnings on the screen, I walked to my dresser, reached in and grabbed some pajamas. After getting dressed in the proper nighttime attire, I finally sank into the deep solitude and comfort of my bedsheets. Suddenly, I remembered I had left the book I'm currently reading in the bathroom.
Reluctantly getting up, I groan as I open the door to my side-on bathroom. Elena had fussed and whined when I moved into the spare bedroom. She complained how it wasn't fair that she and Jeremy had to share a bathroom. I'm pretty sure that's the only time our parents had ever told her to 'suck it up, buttercup.'
Flicking on the light, I spot the novel laying rather precariously on the edge of the sink. Grabbing it, I was met with the reflection of my face in the mirror. Which is not something I usually look at, because the face of Elena, my twin, stares back.
There's quite a few. . . oddities that set her apart from me however. For one, I have white hair, not blonde, not bleached, just white. My hair texture is the same as hers although, it seems to shine even when there's hardly any light. There's also my skin, an extremely pale, pasty color, unusual in itself, but my dark eye circles make it seem as though I were dead.
I'm more angular too. Elena has always been all curves and hips, a natural tan gracing her along with those doe brown eyes. My body seemed to rebel at the idea of being a cheerleader, choosing instead to be less curvy, and more stick-ish. What muscles I have are very defined, according to the family doctor, I lack certain types of body fat that provide cushioning and insulation.
And, there's my eyes. Pale gray, not even a hint of blue or green in them. My entire eye is extremely light all the way around my pupil, making it hard to distinguish between the iris and the sclera. It came as a shock to my parents when I was born, I had come out several minutes before Elena, and it was very clear even then, I was an albino.
I can imagine it now, the doctors trying to explain to Father why I was so white, while my mother was still in birthing pains from my sister. It must've come as a relief when Elena cried for the first time, her skin healthy, her few strands of hair a dark brown. In a sense, the perfect child.
Shaking my head from such reflections, I turned off the bathroom light and headed back to my bed. Passing by my laptop on the desk, I closed it shut with a hard tap. The covers welcomed me as I slid underneath them, and a deep comforting sense washed over me as the cool sheets settled over my legs.
Opening the cover of my book, I glanced at the inscription I had written in the foreword,
Property of Ashley Gilbert, Mystic Falls, Va.
Turning to the proper page I was on earlier, my eyes flitted across the paragraphs as I devoured the words.