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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HOPE IS EXPECTING A STORM. Not an actual one, of course. More of a metaphorical one in the shape of Lizzie and Josie Saltzman.
Downstairs, silverware is chiming against plates and the aroma of bacon flows through the vent in Hope's bedroom. She would be lying if she said it didn't make her stomach growl. Her dad always made the best breakfast, something she misses every time she opens up her eyes.
But her dad is dead. So it looks like Alaric's will have to do.
Hope hesitates before taking the first step down the stairs. She stares at her worn-out black boots for a while instead, one foot hovering over that first wooden step. She could always sneak right out the front door, not say a word and disappear into the abyss of the world. She could leave and never come back.
But that's what got her into this mess in the first place.
Despite feeling like she's going to throw up at any given moment, Hope inhales and takes that first step. She still doesn't know if she's walking on death row. Like the second she wanders into the kitchen, one of the twins (probably Lizzie), will aim a butter knife perfectly into her chest without batting an eye. Josie would laugh, Alaric would shrug, and Hope would die on their kitchen floor. They'd step over her like gum on a New York City sidewalk.
But that doesn't happen.
The first thing Hope notices when she steps into the kitchen is that Josie is missing. Maybe she's in the bathroom, or maybe she's still upstairs getting ready and Hope barely missed her. Maybe she's hiding in the living room or took her breakfast to the backyard.
Lizzie's there, though. She doesn't meet Hope's eyes. She doesn't say a word. She only, rather aggressively, bites off a piece of her toast and chews so hard and for so long it looks like her pointed jaw might snap. The top of her blonde hair is frizzy, and Hope notices that it's likely due to the knitted orange beanie sitting beside her plate. She probably yanked it off the second she realized her head was sweating. Her outfit, a grey t-shirt tucked into a pair of thigh-length overalls, finished with a flannel, is rather cute, something Hope might wear if she was feeling bold enough. But it's not something the Lizzie she used to know would wear.
"Hope, you're up!" Alaric grins. He sets a plate down in the same spot where Hope sat for dinner. He slides a pancake onto it. "I made pancakes. There's some bacon, too. I can make you some toast? I usually manage to burn it but I promise I'll try not to," he laughs. He's dressed in a fitted grey suit and a Mystic-Falls-maroon tie.
"That's okay," Hope sits down. It's slow and cautious. For the first time, Lizzie meets Hope's gaze. She follows her every move and Hope checks to make sure she isn't snake-eyeing her and reaching for the butter knife. "Just some bacon is fine."
