𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄, ERIK LEHNSHERR

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑻𝒀-𝑶𝑵𝑬

          Three months flew by, the days dragging in a long form of grief and despair, written by the hand of an author who strived for angst.

Kara dreaded waking up every morning, the nightmares clawing into her heart as the nights passed. She hated sleeping and avoided it her whole life, but as of late, she was too exhausted not to fight it off.

She woke up in a state of panic or anxiety, the haunting images replaying their roles behind her eyelids.

The days dragged on and she felt like a shell of the person she used to be, which was a huge statement due to her hating her life from before the incident.

It wasn't surprising that her life had come crumbling down a second time, but she hadn't managed to heal because of the lack of support around her. Her brother was gone, the only person she had left whom she could turn to in times of crisis.

She had Charles, but he wasn't doing so well either. They were both grieving, heavily. It wasn't something time could justify, or hope, for that matter.

Kara had no family left, not her mother, her father, her grandfather, or her brother. Though he wasn't dead, it felt like it the more she grieved.

She found her grandfather dead in his living room, the words of her fathers having pushed her to check up on him, only to find him decaying in the middle of his cabin a few days after the beach.

She ultimately decided that she didn't want to go through the trouble of contacting the authorities and informing them that he was not in fact dead after years of hiding. It would've been too much lying in an explanation.

So, she found a jug of gasoline and a lighter and lit the place up without another thought. It wasn't like anyone would notice, the cabin was under an invisibility spell. She stood back and watched it engulf in flames, the remembrance of Klaus poking the back of her mind.

It's been three months since she burned the place down, leaving nothing but ash that would soon seep into the soil of the ground.

Early that morning, having awoken from a nightmare that revisited Erik leaving her that left her to pant heavily for air in her lungs. She sat up and wiped the collecting sweat piling on her forehead, her mouth dry and cotton-like.

A wave of nausea washed over her and she quickly stood and rushed to her bathroom, heaving the contents of what sat in her empty stomach. A scarred hand rested over her long-sleeved-covered stomach while her other hand held her white hair back, hoping to not mix in with the toilet water below her.

She wiped a hand over her mouth after heaving the rest of it, her eyes blinking back the glassy tears that seemed to come regularly. Standing from her knees, she rinsed her mouth out and splashed water on her face rid of any sweat, glancing into the mirror and staring at herself in her reflection.

Her face had gotten slimmer, somehow, and still held the scars of her past. Her cheekbones were more prominent, and her pale skin now flustered after throwing up.

Kara grunted and exited her bathroom, slowing her breathing as she recalled having thrown up seven times in the past week. It dawned on her that she hadn't had her cycle in the last two months, the realization of the only explanation sinking into her gut.

She bit her lip to hold back a cry, the glaze of tears brimming her waterline once more as she shook her head to free her mind of the thought that she could be pregnant.

It wasn't possible, well, it was, but she couldn't be. That would've meant that a part of Erik was left with her, only to grow without him. Deep down, it was Kara's dream to be a mother, she even thought about it when she was with Erik, but he wasn't there anymore, and neither was her brother.