We'll Always Have Summer | Stefan Salvatore

Chapter Three

2012 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

Florence Gilbert was a distant name she had heard every once in a while after she became a vampire. The only person to call her that while at Whitmore was Enzo, a vampire she met after being dissected for six hours straight. He was her companion in the dark room, the only person to try to soothe the pain that coursed through her veins.

   Her eldest brother, Grayson, began to treat her as if she were an experiment. No longer was she a person in his eyes, but a monster. The hatred was clear in his eyes whenever they landed on hers, the distaste as thick as smoke by the way he spoke.

   The moment Damon Salvatore said her name, she wanted to rip his spine through his throat. It had been too long since she had heard the name, even longer since she had seen those soft blue eyes. It reminded her of the night he saved her from the car, the sound of metal being thrown against asphalt, the sight of her father covered in his own blood and his hazy brown eyes on her. It reminded her of the night it all began.

   She ambled inside of the Salvatore Boarding House, her hands deep in the old sweater Doctor Wes Maxfield had given her before he let her out. It had been eighteen years since she last stepped into the house, since she last inhaled the deep scent of wood that had been rooted in the walls and floors. Everything was the same. The parlour held the fireplace, the scent of wood thicker due to the fire that burned in it. The walls were covered in old paintings, the tables full of old cases and glass trinkets from memories of those that had lived in the house. The curtains were the same, long and heavy and deep red.

   Behind the couch was the small bar, a crystal decanter right on top with a soft brown liquid inside. She didn't know much of alcohol, so she thought of it to be whiskey.

   Over the fireplace rested the same painting, an old man in clothes with his hands behind his back and a strong stance as if he were someone important. She didn't know much of the painting, even less to care about it. But, it was familiar. It reminded her of the past. There was still nothing that surged inside of her.

   Florence ambled around the downstairs of the house to remind herself of a time where she had emotions. She had been happy, and sad, and angry all at the same time when she spent the night at the house. It was almost the same. Outside, a storm echoed against the walls and bounced towards her. The same thunder and lightning, eighteen years apart.

   The upstairs was not much different. The electronics were updated, brand new TVs in the seven bedrooms. Each bedroom held a different scent, one most familiar of all. It was his bedroom. Nothing had changed since eighteen years ago.

   Stefan's bedroom held the same things as it did in 1993. The bed was in the same position, the only difference being the amount of pillows and the bedding. It had been blue back then, now it was a pale cream colour that reminded her of the boring walls of her parents bedroom. The sofa that had rested by the wall next to the doors that went to his balcony had disappeared. Instead, a long wooden table with a lamp, books, and an old vase that belonged to probably a family member he had seen live and die.

   Florence moved to the bed. On top of it rested two large books. When she neared it, she realised that it was two photo albums. Hers. The first one was from before her birth, a picture of her mother's ultrasound with her mother's near writing beneath it: It's a girl! See you soon.

   The following pages were full of photographs of her, minutes old into the world. Underneath each photograph her mother had written a neat note, a reminder of the day it was taken.

   For a moment, she was surprised to see it. It had been years since she last saw the album, more than the time she had become a vampire. Her mother used to keep the album in the living room, in a nook right beneath the TV wall. Each Gilbert child had a book beneath there, or several. Her mother had loved her, she knew, for she had two large one covered in photographs. The book she held at that moment ended in the summer before freshman year.