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Here I am in my old home at 5:30 in the morning, just a few hours before my senior year of high school begins.
Again.
I remember this morning vividly, the last morning of my life before I met Stefan Salvatore. The Elena I was then—the one who should be here now—was so lost. I didn’t feel like I belonged here, or like I belonged anywhere. I was searching for something that was just out of reach.
My bedroom looks just the way it always did, warm and cozy. My bay window gives me a view onto the quince tree outside. Down the hall are dear Aunt Judith and my darling baby sister, Margaret, who’s only four and tucked up tight in bed, not half-grown and miles away.
Everything feels as if I might break it, it’s so fragile. This moment has been gone for years.
Elena stopped writing and stared at her last line, shaking her head. Soon, she’d see everyone, everything, unchanged. They’d been so naïve—in a good way—focused on popularity and high school romances, and unaware of the darkness that hovered just outside their pleasant lives. She’d never appreciated what she had then. This time, she’d know to savor those moments of innocence.
But she wasn’t just here to revisit her past.
Tapping her pen against the pages of the small book with the blue velvet cover, she thought for a moment, and then bent her head and began writing again.
Stefan is alive here. When I think about being with him, my hands start to shake and I can hardly breathe. Part of me died with him, and now I’m going to see him again. Whatever happens next, at least I’ll have that.
If I’m going to save Damon, stop the destruction Mylea outlined, I can’t be with Stefan this time. It hurts. It hurts a lot. But if I want Damon to listen to me, I have to be with him, not Stefan. I already know how things turn out if I pursue Stefan now.
I love them both. So much. I always have.
But I’ve learned my lesson about trying to have them both. If I want them both in my life, things fall apart. They always fall apart, no matter what we do. I have to choose. And, if I can keep Damon from killing Mr. Tanner, maybe I can save us all.
With a click and a buzz, Elena’s alarm clock went off. Closing her journal, she got up. Soon, it would be time to go to school. Would she remember enough about who she had been then? She worried that somehow, everyone would see that she was the wrong Elena, in the wrong time.
A hot bath and some coffee, and I’ll calm down, she thought. She had time.
After a leisurely bath, she took her time getting dressed. The clothes—all the gorgeous new outfits she’d gotten in Paris—looked outdated to her now, but she still sort of loved them. She remembered what she’d worn on this day, the first day of her senior year. A pale rose top and white linen shorts. She pulled them on again. They made her look tempting, as sweet and refreshing as a raspberry sundae, she thought as she looked critically into the mirror, pulling back her hair with a deep rose ribbon.
“Elena! You’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Judith’s voice drifted up from below. Glancing in the mirror one last time—her face was a trifle grim, as if she were headed into battle, but that couldn’t be helped—Elena grabbed her backpack and headed for the stairs.
Downstairs, Aunt Judith was burning something on the stove, and Margaret was eating cereal at the kitchen table. The sight of them stopped Elena in her tracks for a second. She’d forgotten how little Margaret was then. And Aunt Judith had still been wearing her flyaway hair long.
Elena pushed herself back into motion and kissed Aunt Judith quickly on the cheek. “Good morning,” she said lightly. “Sorry, I don’t have time for breakfast.”
“But, Elena, you can’t just go off without eating. You need your protein—”
It was all coming back to her. She felt like an actress, mouthing familiar lines she’d said a hundred times before. “I’ll get a doughnut before school,” she said, dropping a kiss on the top of Margaret’s silky head and turning to go.
“But, Elena—”
“Don’t worry, Aunt Judith,” Elena said cheerfully. “It’ll all be fine.” At the front door, she spun to take one last quick look at them. Margaret, still half-asleep, licked her spoon. Aunt Judith, her eyes full of love, gave Elena a small, worried smile.
Elena’s heart ached a little. Part of her wanted to go back, forget school and the future, and sit down at the table with them. So much had happened since this moment, and she’d never believed she would be back here like this again. But she couldn’t stay. Margaret wiggled her fingers in a wave, and Elena, spurring herself into movement, winked at the little girl as she went through the door.
“Elena,” Aunt Judith said. “I really think—”
She closed the door behind her, cutting off Aunt Judith’s protests, and stepped out onto the front porch.
And stopped.
The world outside was silent, the street deserted. The tall, pretty Victorian houses seemed to loom above her. Overhead, the sky was milky and opaque, and the air felt oppressively heavy.
It was as if the whole street were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elena saw something move. Something was watching her.
She turned and caught sight of a huge black crow, the biggest crow she had ever seen, sitting in the quince tree in her front yard. It was completely still, and its glittering black eyes were fixed on her with an intent, almost human gaze.
