♤ ı [3] An Everlasting Love

ı 13 ı Power of Recollection

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"I'll hit the lights and you lock the doors, tell me all of the things that you couldn't before."

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IN MY HAND I hold possibly the world's most ugliest doll, tossing it from hand to hand, thinking about all the memories it triggers, all the memories of my childhood. Several hours have passed since the incident on the streets, my mind composed of organized thoughts. I have been in the guest room for several hours, staring at the stupid plush toy hoping it can make me feel better, but it makes me feel worse.

I had asked to be alone, insisting that I needed time to myself. Nobody objected, not even James. James only ever leaves me alone when he knows I need it, and that is one of the reasons I love him.

However, just after the sun has set do I hear a knocking on the door, already knowing who it is just by the strong scent of dark oak cologne. "Come in," I say, as James opens the door.

"Are they listening?" I ask, referring to everyone downstairs. I could hear them talking about me all afternoon, trying to determine what was wrong with me.

"No. They're making dinner," James replies, as he closes the door.

"Since when do the Originals cook?" I question with a smile.

"Oh they never cook, which is why it looks like Hell's kitchen down there," James jokes, sitting beside me on the bed. I shuffle a laugh, keeping my stare down at the doll. "You know, I remember seeing that doll one night back in 1864. Your brothers hid it in my guest room, on the shelf across from my bed. Scared the bloody hell out of me," James explains, staring wide-eyed at the doll as he recalls the memory.

"You remember it?" I ask, turning to look at him.

"It's kinda hard to forget, no?" He laughs, his deep laugh soothing me like it's music to my ears.

"Fair enough," I agree, smiling.

"It's about your brothers, isn't it?" James asks me, but I don't answer. "You've been pretending you were alright with Damon's death and Stefan's disappearance for so long you've forgotten how much they mean to you. The doll, it ignited everything again," he explains, sighing when I don't answer. "I knew you hadn't accepted their absence," he says as if he's disappointed in himself.

"How?" I ask quietly.

"Because, I know you Blair." He smiles, wrapping an arm around me, pulling me close. "I should've said something, helped you sooner. I'm sorry," he admits, but to me he couldn't be more wrong.

"It's not your fault, James. It was bound to happen- me breaking down. Nobody gets over the death of a sibling so fast without consequence," I assure him.

"It gets better." He kisses the top of my head.

"How long did it take for you to finally accept Lexi's passing?" I ask cautiously.

He purses his lips, clearly uneasy about the topic. "You want the truth?" 

"Yes." I smile faintly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"There is no such thing as accepting such a vile thing as death. You just live with it," he says lowly.

"But, isn't living with it accepting it?" I question in confusion.

"Not necessarily," he shakes his head. "Accepting is coming to terms with reality and moving on. Living with it is letting the pain influence everything you do, earning the strength to move on. Every now and then when in doubt I'll think about what Lexi would do, allowing the pain of her memory make myself a better person."