Words Unspoken (The Vampire Diaries)

Chapter 23

Though the signing of a death certificate is but a simple act, it signifies the end. The end of something beautiful, if anything, I suppose. The moment Indira's fingers wrap around that pen, her knuckles growing white from her fierce grip, I know the hope has died. Each letter she forms drains more from our miniscule bank of longing. I turn toward Elena, her body entwined with mine upon the mattress. Our eyes have felt the steady stream of tears for some unfathomable amount of time, and the baby, my little girl, still lays across our chests, cradled between the two beings who had created her.

"Where will her body go?" Elena whispers shakily, her eyes closed in exhaustion.

"Wherever you want, angel. In the garden, in our yard back home, anywhere."

"So we just lay her in the grass forever?"

Elena's lips quiver violently as she speaks, but she does not fight it. For a long time I have wondered if and when this question would ring from her lungs.

"Those who are no longer here with us usually go under the grass, sweetheart."

"What?" She nearly cries, snapping her eyelids open.

Elena has never had to understand death in this way. When her village perished, their corpses laid on the grass beneath her feet. That is her perception of death. It may seem cruel to bury someone, to hide them away, but it is society's concept of a humane farewell. It's easier to forget them that way, easier to move on when their physical being is unseen, being eroded away by bugs and nature. Unfortunately, the thought tugs at my insides with such strength that I nearly cry again.

"The baby will go back to nature, but her soul will live forever," I softly tell Elena.

"Like Sybil?" She whimpers.

I nod. My hands move to comfort her, but she just throws her head back to scream out in anguish. The pain of loss may be more intense than the physical misery all these countless months, because Elena has cried many times, but not like this. Her chest vibrates and thumps in sorrow, heaving for an understanding. Even the tone of her voice is only that of a mother losing her child. When I stroke the baby's head, the skin is cold against my fingertips, and her mother's bare chest is the only source of warmth left for the little girl's lifeless silhouette.

For a while, Elena sleeps, occasionally whispering things under her breath wildly. Her arms lay casually, but just as protectively over the baby on her. The two are not with me, both basking in the warmth of heaven. They may be different realms entirely, but each is equally in a state of peace. Indira and Penden eventually leave, obviously drained from lack of sleep and the trauma of losing a child. Per my request, they leave the stillborn with us so that when Elena is ready, we can bury her as she deserves.

I take the time to study the infant, relishing in the soft brown hair atop her perfectly creamy scalp. The locks are such a light shade, almost blonde in the room's glow. She has Elena's lips and small ears, just as all female Salvatores seem to. The wispy lashes tracing her sealed lids are dark like Sybil's, while her perfectly structured nose is reminiscent of my own. Still, the greatest mystery that my angel will never reveal to us is the color of her orbs hidden beneath those delicate pink shades.

"I see her," Elena whispers half consciously, more tears erupting.

"She's in heaven, baby," I hum back.

Elena's lips curve up into a petite grin, catching the droplets of emotion before they can sneak any further. In her soft features, I know that she can see her daughter in heaven. My love's soul is the bridge to that paradise as I have learned through Sybil's own words. In the heat of the moment, I kiss her forehead, and without another second, I disappear from the room like a phantom. The monastery is still silent, the sun just peeking up behind the mountain, and no one is around to notice the blood bags filling the pockets of my jacket or the glare of death in my blue orbs.