Stefan’s Diaries: Origins Chapter 9

Its difficult for me to describe the moments that followed.I remember footfalls and shrieking and the servants praying outside their quarters. I remember staying on my knees, yelling out of horror and pity and fear. I remember Mr. Cartwright pulling me back sour as Mrs. Cartwright sank to her knees and keened loudly, give care a wounded animal.I remember seeing the police carriage. I remember Father and Damon wringing their hands and whispering about me, allies in trying to develop the best course for my care. I seek to talk, to tell them I was fineI was, after all, alive. But I couldnt form the words.At one point, Dr. Janes hooked his arms under my armpits and dragged me to my feet. Slowly, men I didnt know surrounded me and dragged me to the porch of the servants quarters. There, words were mumbled, and Cordelia was called for. Im Im fine, I said finally, embarrassed that so much attention was being paid to me when Rosalyn was the one whod been killed.Shhh, now, Stefan, Corde lia said, her leathery incline creased with worry. She touch her hands to my chest and muttered a prayer under her breath, then pulled a tiny vial from the voluminous folds of her skirt. She uncapped it and pressed it to my lips. Drink, she urged as a melted that tasted like licorice ran down my throat.Katherine I whimpered. Then I clapped my hand over my own mouth, but not before a startled mental synthesis crossed Cordelias face. Quickly, she dosed me with more of the licorice-scented liquid. I dropped back to the hard steps of the porch, too tired to think anymore.His brother is here somewhere, Cordelia said, sounding as if she were verbalize underwater. Fetch him.I heard the sound of footfalls and opened my eyes an instant later to see Damon standing above me. His face was white with shock.Will he be okay? Damon asked, turning to Cordelia.I think , Dr. Janes began.He needs rest. Quiet. A dark room, Cordelia said authoritatively.Damon nodded.Im Rosalyn I should have , I be gan, even though I didnt know how to finish the sentence. Should have what? Should have gone looking for her far earlier, instead of spending my time kissing Katherine? Should have insisted on escorting her to the company?Shhh, Damon whispered, hoisting me up. I managed to stand, shakily, beside him. From out of nowhere, Father appeared and held my other arm, and I haltingly managed to step off the porch and back to the house. Revelers stood on the grass, holding each other, and Sheriff Forbes called out for the militia to lookup in the woods. I felt Damon guiding me through the back door of the house and up the stairs before allowing me to collapse on my neck. I criminal into the cotton sheets, and then I remember nothing but darkness.The next morning, I awoke to beams of sunlight scattered on the cherrywood floorboards of my bedroom.Good morning, brother. Damon was sitting in the box in the rocking chair, the one that used to belong to Great-grandfather. Our mother had rocked us in it when we were infants, singing songs to us as we went to sleep. Damons eyes were red and logical argumentshot, and I wondered if hed been sitting like that, watching me, all night.Rosalyns dead? I voiced it as a question, even though the answer was obvious.Yes. Damon stood up, turning to the crystal pitcher on the walnut dresser. He poured water into a tumbler and held it toward me. I struggled to sit upright.No, stay, Damon commanded with the authority of an army officer. Id never heard him speak like that before. I fell back against the goose-down pillows and allowed Damon to bring the glass to my lips as if I were an infant. The cool, clear liquid slipped down my throat, and once again, I thought back to last night.Did she suffer? I asked, a painful series of images marching through my brain. While Id been reciting Shakespeare, Rosalyn must have been planning her grand entrance. She must have been so excited to show off her dress, to have the younger girls gape at her r ing, to have the older women take her off to a corner to discuss the particulars of her wedding night. I imagined her dashing crossways the lawn, then hearing footsteps behind her, only to turn and see flashing white teeth glistening in the moonlight. I shuddered.Damon crossed over to the bed and put his hand on my shoulder. Suddenly the rush of terrifying images stopped. Death usually happens in less than a second. That was the case in the war, and Im sure it was the alike(p) for your Rosalyn. He settled back in his chair and rubbed his temple. They think it was a coyote. The war is bringing people east for battle, and they think the animals are following the blood trail.Coyotes, I said, my voice tripping on the second syllable. I hadnt heard the word before. It was just one more example of new phrases like killed and a widower that were about to be added to my vocabulary.Of course, there are those people, including Father, who think it was the work of demons. Damon rolled his da rk eyes. Just what our townspeople Damon rolled his dark eyes. Just what our town needs. An epidemic of mass hysteria. And what kills me about that little rumor is that when people are convinced their town is under siege by some demonic force, theyre not focusing on the fact that war is ripping apart our country. Its this head-in- the-sand mentality that I simply cannot understand. I nodded, not really listening, not able to positioning Rosalyns death as part of some sort of argument against the war. As Damon continued to ramble, I lay back and closed my eyes. I visualized Rosalyns face at the moment I found her. There, in the darkness, shed looked different. Her eyes had been large and luminescent. As though shed seen something terrible. As though shed suffered horribly.