The End

The oppressive quiet of the Gilbert house was a constant reminder of absence. Rosalina pulled the blanket tighter over her head, wishing the silence would swallow her whole. Downstairs, she could hear Elena’s bright, insistent voice, followed by Jeremy’s weary sighs.

“Ah! Early. Bad!” Jeremy groaned.

“Ah. It’s not early. You’re late, for work. Matt just called.” Elena’s footsteps approached, her presence a familiar, suffocating weight. Rosalina burrowed deeper, feigning sleep. She knew the drill.

“Hey Rosa, get up.” A yank. The blanket was gone, leaving her exposed to the cool morning air and Elena’s expectant gaze.

“Not cool, Elena,” she mumbled, face still buried in the pillow.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Rosa.”

“Don’t you have some boyfriend to bug?” The words were out before she could stop them, laced with a bitterness she usually reserved for internal monologues. She knew Elena and Stefan were complicated, but the precise details eluded her, as most things did.

Elena sighed, a sound Rosalina knew well. “You know that me and Stefan—”

“Who said I was talking about Stefan? Last I checked, you got along pretty well with both Salvatore brothers.” Rosalina risked a smirk, but Elena, as always, remained unphased. “Grow up, Rosa,” Elena said, before heading out, her voice trailing back, “And don’t sleep all day!”

Rosalina groaned, finally surrendering to the inevitable. She dragged herself out of bed, the morning light too bright, too intrusive. She picked out a dark blue shirt and jeans, catching her reflection in the mirror. Same tan skin, dark eyes, straight brown hair as Elena, but Elena was always the pretty one. A familiar pang of inadequacy, a quiet companion in her otherwise lonely world.

Deciding to brave the downstairs, a rare social venture, Rosalina headed for breakfast. The morning, however, held far more than just breakfast. It held the unraveling of everything she thought she knew.