Four years isn't a long time, not to anyone who lives an ordinary life with no loss. Not to anyone who lives in Mystic Falls. It's just another set number of silly traditions, happy holiday's and town events, replaying over and over and over again...
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SEPTEMBER 10, 2030.
"GOOD MORNING, temporary sister."
It's the first thing Lizzie says to Hope the second she sits down at the dining table. Today, breakfast is scrambled cheese eggs and Johnsville sausages. There's already a glass of milk on Hope's placemat. The curtains are drawn on the windows and the sun is shining through onto Alaric's face. He's sipping a steaming mug of black, legs crossed as he types on his laptop. Hope peers past Lizzie's head and into the kitchen, then past the half-wall into the living room. No sign of Josie.
After last night's encounter, Hope barely slept. And whenever she was seconds away from drifting off into a somewhat peaceful slumber, she'd see Josie the second she'd close her eyes, coloring in the blackness like a paint-by-number book. Once upon a time, thoughts like these made Hope's heart do summersaults. Now, they just make her want to scream.
Hope clears her throat. "Another one of Josie's early mornings?"
"No."
It's a voice that hasn't changed in all the years Hope has been gone. Josie struts in. She doesn't give Hope— or anyone— a single glance as her seude, heeled boots clack their way into the kitchen against the hardwood floors. Hope blushes from the embarrassment.
"Where's your posse?" Lizzie snarks. She aggressively bites her eggs off a fork.
Beside her, Alaric is in another world. He's typing away at the computer like his life depends on it. He probably didn't even notice that Josie walked in.
"They're not coming," Josie huffs from the kitchen. She effortlessly grabs the breadbasket from the top of the fridge and pulls out a slice, slipping it into the toaster. Hope watches as she sways over to the cabinets and pulls out organic peanut butter. "Ask Dad."
Lizzie turns around. The old wooden chair, one that's been in this dining room since Hope was a baby, creaks at every movement.
"Well, allow me to guess, then, sister. Would it just so happen to be because you ditched your first day of senior year just so that you could hangout with Penelope Park?"
Just like that, a sliver of sausage goes down the wrong pipe, and Hope chokes. She coughs in rows, they're frantic as she reaches for the glass of milk to down the chunks. Alaric looks up at the sudden commotion, and he's quick to offer a couple of napkins and words of worry. Lizzie rolls her eyes and diverts her attention right back to Josie, who's face is more red than the fruit bowl in the center of the kitchen counter.
Lizzie's attitude and Josie's nonchalant tone become muffled sounds as Hope tries to render the thought of Penelope Park and Josie Saltzman in the same room. Josie despised Penelope Park, nearly as much as Hope herself did. She'd spent years tormenting the twins, Lizzie more-so than Josie. Hope remembers countless nights of Lizzie, despite her beauty and popularity, coming home in tears because the Park girl had stuck a nerve in her too deep to hide the emotional aftermath.
