Chapter Text
Eleonora Gilbert is mildly surprised to find out her aunt has already been released from the hospital. After that close brush with death on the kitchen floor yesterday evening, she thought Jenna would take a little longer to recuperate from her knife wound. But as she walks into the living room on this Saturday afternoon in late March, her favorite Georges Simenon novel under her arm and her tiny calico cat Cinnamon slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, contently purring into the microphone of her cochlear implant, she finds Jenna lying on the couch, laughing about something Matt has said.
The blonde quarterback is sitting on the armrest of the couch, the TV remote in hand, and zipping through the TV channels at Jenna’s instruction. From the direction of the kitchen, Eleonora can make out faint, bustling noises. She stops in her tracks and puts Cinnamon down, who, in return, digs her claws into the teenager’s shirt and skin, not wanting to leave her favorite spot on Eleonora’s shoulder just yet.
She hasn’t heard anyone coming home, but that’s hardly surprising, considering her disability. While her hearing has greatly improved since she’s gotten her cochlear implants, it’s still nowhere near as good as that of a non-disabled person - and never will be. Without her prosthetics she’s as good as deaf , only able to hear very loud noises directly next to her. It sucks, greatly so, but that’s the card life has dealt her and there’s no point complaining about something no one, save the white-haired, old man sitting in the clouds above, can change. She’s ought to be thankful that she can hear something , at the very least and participate in conversations even though doing so usually tires her out fairly quickly.
“Hey, Jenna, Matt,” she greets them with a faint little smile, ignoring Cinnamon’s vocal complaints and demands to be picked back up. Honestly, if there’s an award for the neediest and clingiest cat in the world, then Cinnamon would win the competition in a heartbeat. If she was allowed to, she would even follow Eleonora to school every morning. The girl could hardly go to take a poop in peace without the delicate little cat howling and scratching in front of the closed bathroom door, demanding to be let in.
Funnily enough, she’s only like that with Eleonora. Jenna seems to be an adequate ear and belly rubber substitute for when Eleonora is not at home, but everyone else is being stayed clear of. Especially when Stefan, her twin sister’s boyfriend, is around. Cinnamon doesn’t seem to like him at all. If Eleonora doesn’t know any better, she’d think the cat’s scared for life around him.
“Hey,” Matt shoots back, reciprocating her smile. Out of all the people her twin sister hangs out with on a daily basis, he’s the one Eleonora likes best. Probably because Matthew Donovan is so refreshingly uncomplicated. He’s the typical blonde and blue-eyed, sweet, boy next doors-type - always polite and respectful, despite the large burden he carries on his shoulders. After his sister’s tragic death earlier this year, he’s been living all alone in the Donovan’s run-down little trailer home, having to work his ass off a the Grill after school in order to pay the bills. Whenever Eleonora’s there, which isn’t often, she makes sure to tip him extra.
“When did you get back?” she asks, turning to her aunt.
“Just now,” Jenna replies, wincing in pain as she slightly shifts her position on the couch to pat her legs that are covered in a fluffy blanket, clicking her tongue to beckon Cinnamon over. “You can do me a favor and tell your siblings to stop hovering over me like some concerned parents. I won’t die anytime soon, promise.”
The cat hesitates, seemingly weighting its options, before jumping on Jenna’s lap, her back demonstratively turned towards Eleonora, as if to say “ That’s what you get for being mean! ” She immediately starts purring in utter bliss as Jenna starts to scratch her behind the ears, making biscuits on her lap.
“But you nearly did, Aunt Jenna,” Eleonora reminds her, voice shaking slightly as she recalls the events of the last evening. Jenna’s pain-filled scream, the sharp end of the kitchen knife buried in her stomach, all that blood…In that moment Eleonora truly believed her aunt to be dying. In her mind’s eye, she already saw the coffin and grave with Jenna’s name on top of it, right next to her parents at the cemetery.
She has never felt more relieved in her life than in the moment the doctor at the ER told them that the wound was indeed grave, but not deadly.
“I know,” Jenna sighs, shaking her head. “A stupid accident. Won’t happen again.” She reaches out her arm in the teenager’s direction, nudging her playfully. “If I die, who’s going to remind you that you can’t be hiding in your room with your books and paintings for the rest of your life? I know it’s not easy for you, but you gotta go out some day, catch some of that vitamin D. Meet people. Build connections. That’s what life’s all about.”
Eleonora grimaces. Just like her parents up until their tragic passing last year, her aunt has been trying these last few months to get her to leave her own four walls more and mingle with other people and attend town and school events she would have skipped previously. So far she hasn’t been all that successful in her - some would say hopeless - pursuit. Eleonora can be very stubborn, if she wants to. She’s slowly but surely getting tired of people assuming that she needs as much attention and social contacts around her as her twin sister does. Lock her into a library full of books, painting supplies, enough food and water, and she’ll be perfectly content to just stay there for the rest of her life, soaking in the silence.
“I am going out,” she states, crossing her arms in defiance. “There’s the painting class on Wednesday, my shift at the library every Saturday and Sunday afternoon and the Historical Socie-“
“I meant going out with people your age, Ellie,” Jenna interrupts her, giving her a pointed look. “Not painting the Town Square with the elderly and reading books to little children.” She grimaces. “Don’t get me wrong, these are nice and fulfilling hobbies you have there, but you are young. Having fun with other young people will be much more fulfilling than that, believe me.”
Eleonora shoots her aunt a doubtful look. “But teenagers are no fun to hang out with, Jenna. On the contrary. They are loud, rude, have neither manners nor respect, it’s exhausting. I rather just hang out at the senior center all day. At least there people will repeat their words more clearly without any nasty comments or eye rolls when I ask them to.”
She doesn’t tell her that the other major reason for why she prefers the company of the elderly to teenagers is the fact that among them, she feels understood. A lot of the people in her painting class have problem with their hearing too, so they don’t expect her to be able to follow a conversation while music is playing in the background. This is something not even Elena or Jeremy ever understood.
The same goes to pretty much everything else. How many time has she told them that she needs subtitles to watch a movie more comfortably without getting a headache after five minutes, only for them to forget about it time and time again or turn them off because they are “annoying”? How many times has a teacher accused her of lazying around in class because she didn’t react when they mumbled her name from in between book pages or with their backs turned towards her, even though she has told them time and time again that she can’t understand them that way?
Being around other people just has become so exhausting that Eleonora simply prefers living in solitude - and so far she’s perfectly fine with it.
“I know you’re worried about me, Aunt Jenna, but you don’t have to,” she adds with a sigh. “I am not Elena or even you. I can survive without attending parties or being the popular girl. Just concentrate on getting better. That would help me greatly.”
She leans down to press a quick little kiss on her aunt’s cheek before turning back around and walking back up the stairs leading to her room to get ready for her shift at the library that’s starting in about an hour.
All her life Eleonora has been told by various people that she’s ought to be more like her twin sister, despite her being five minutes older. More confident. More out-going. More caring. More clever. More beautiful. Just…more. Apart from her kind-hearted art teacher Mrs. Harris, no one ever made her feel as though she’s enough the way she is. Even with her parents, it was a constant circle of “ Look what Elena achieved! ” and “ I know it’s difficult for you, but you ought to put in a bit more effort, sweetie. ”
And Eleonora tried, by God she did! She tried so hard to be better at school, despite all the problems she’s facing there, she tried being more out-going and make friends at school, even though no one wanted to be friends with the deaf girl in town. She even tried cheerleading for about a month until she nearly broke both of her legs and was basically being kicked out of the team because she has no balance and no sense for rhythm at all. She even contemplated, briefly, to apply for the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant so her mom could be happy and proud of her for once.
She tried everything, but nothing she did was ever enough to reach the high status Elena had in everyone’s eyes. Every little achievement of hers is immediately overshadowed by something Elena did. Granted, her being able to hear her first piece of language with her new implants might not be as spectacular as Elena’s first major cheerleading performance, but she still wishes that for once in her life, someone would tell her how proud they are of her.
Just once, and she’ll literally die a happy girl.
Eventually she stopped trying to live up to other people’s expectations of her. Now she’s just Eleonora Gilbert, a deaf, about to be fake-blonde, insignificant nobody.
She stops in her tracks, having just reached the hair color aisle of the cozy little drug store down the street from the neighborhood she’s living in. With bated breath she strolls down the aisle, scanning the neatly sorted products on the shelf until she finds what she’s been looking for.
Bleach.
Yes, Eleonora is about to join the town’s Blondie Club. Fuck what anyone has to say about it.
After her conversation with Jenna before work today, she decided to she’s done with people wittingly or unwittingly comparing her to Elena. She’s not her sister and now everyone should see it.
Her hands are shaking in a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as she picks up the square-shaped package and makes her way to the checkout.
She’s really going to do it, something she has been thinking of for quite some time now, but never got the courage to actually pull through. Until now.
The girl sitting at the checkout is hardly older than her, perhaps one or two years her senior. She eyes Eleonora skeptically as the latter places the singular package on the conveyor belt, hesitating for a moment, as if she isn’t quite sure if she should sell her the product.
“Ya done this before?”
“ Does my hair look blonde to you? ” Eleonora wants to scream, but instead, she’s keeping her usual, polite smile on her face.
“Yes.”
The lie slips from her tongue so easily, just like pulling oxygen into her lungs, leaving behind a bitter taste in her mouth. She doesn’t enjoy doing it, but sometimes a sugar-coated lie is less painful than the harsh truth. Besides, it’s none of the girl’s business what she’s going with her own hair.
The cashier shrugs her shoulders, obviously buying her words. Good. That’s very good.
“I’m just sayin’. This stuff can fuck up ya hair very badly. A friend of mine did it, and now she’s bald and runs around wearing ugly wigs all day.”
Eleonora grimaces. The prospect of losing all of her natural hair isn’t very appealing to her, but neither is continuing to look like her twin sister. So she decides to take the risk.
“Thanks for the warning, I guess.”
The girl nods her head as she swipes the package over her scanner. “Ya welcome. That makes ten dollars. Instruction’s inside the package, in case ya need it.”
Eleonora pulls a few bills out of the wallet, hands them to the girl and mumbles a quick “Thank you” and “Goodbye” before grabbing her hair dye and making her way out of the nearly empty drug store into the night.
The faster she’s home, the quicker she can get to work. Besides, she doesn’t like being outside after dark. The darkness always scared her, probably because she can’t hear as well in it as during the day. This and all the reports about supposed animal attacks in and around town these last few months have made her extremely wary.
And for good reason, because as if she has somehow jinxed it, she doesn’t make it back home that evening. About two street corners away from her house, someone suddenly grabs her from behind and pulls her into a dark and empty alley, before pressing a white cloth on her face. Eleonora quicks and trashes in her aggressor’s hold, but to no avail. She can feel the drug the cloth has been drenched in making its way into her system, blurring her vision. In the heat of the struggle, the bleach slips out of her hand, landing on the street together with the audio processors of her cochlear implants, leaving her entirely deaf.
“ That’s what you get for telling me to go out more often, Jenna. ” is the last coherent thought running through her head before darkness claims her.