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"Seems it's only been a moment since the angels took him from her arms. But as they laid him in the ground, her heart would sing without a sound."

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TRANQUILITY. It was all I had ever wanted, all I had hoped for the very moment I awakened from the tomb. I remember opening my eyes for the first time as Pearl fed me some blood. I remember how alive I felt, how happy I had been once I had realized I was alive. After I entered the new chaotic world, all I had wanted was to find peace within myself. To find the calm in the storm.

Now, two years after awakening from the tomb I find myself still wanting the same thing. For a split second in my life I had thought I had found tranquility. I thought I had finally felt alive again as I was the happiest I could be, but that all went downhill too fast for me to process.

It's been about a year and a half since I moved away from Mystic Falls, and to be honest I don't miss the little town. There's nothing left for me there anyways. I know I still have family and friends, but I haven't talked to any of them in over two months. The last person I heard from was Damon, as we use to keep in touch every month, but now we've gone radio silent. As for Caroline and Stefan, I haven't talked or made communication with them in such a long time, I forget what their voices sound like. I know it's bad and I know they don't deserve to be ignored, but deep down whenever I think of them, it reminds me too much of the things I've lost- of the person I lost. 

As for Joel, we don't really see each other even though we live in the same city. I don't know why but we both found ourselves in Atlanta. Theo and I live on the edge of the city in the more suburban area while Joel lives somewhere downtown where he spends his nights bartending at a local bar. It's a perfect job really, as he can slip himself booze whenever he likes and still make money. It's something I would love to do, but I have permanently banded alcohol of any kind in my new house. 

I've realized how often I turned to bourbon for comfort, and I hate that I use to just give up instead of facing my emotions. Besides, now I have a little human to look after and I can't have myself tempted by the liquid, or else my brain will go foggy and numb. 

I have a new job now, and I'm happy to say it's something I deeply enjoy. James told me to do what I love, and I feel that by working at this job I have fulfilled his wishes, and that was all I ever wanted to do. I just want to make James happy.

"Can you please stop that incessant clicking?" I mutter to my co-worker, Logan,  who sits beside me.

Logan pops his head up from the sound of my voice, his thumb hovering above the top of his pen where he was clicking it. I watch him from the corner of my eyes, just waiting for him to click his stupid pen one more time. However, his thumb doesn't move, so I turn my eyes back to my drawing in front of me.

But as soon as my eyes land back on my page, he begins to click his pen again, like he's asking for a war. "You know what, asshole?" I snap jokingly, although I am annoyed. I move from my chair positioned across from him and move towards him when suddenly Christina, another one of our co-workers rolls her chair over to us.

"Are you guys fighting again? Without me?" Christina whines.

"Do you want to have the honours of snapping his pen in half?" I ask, glaring at Logan.

"Hell no, are you kidding me? I need this pen to do my work. If you break it, I tell Cheryl," Logan warns. I'm about to grab his pen anyways until he mentions Cheryl, our evil boss.

"You bastard," I say, shaking my head.

Logan shrugs and smirks before returning to his work. I glance back down at my design I'm working on. It's a rough copy of an album cover someone hired me to do. It's all part of what we do here at this graphic design studio, although I'm not very good at the computer part. I had to compel my way through some of the interview, but other than that I got the job fairly normally. I refuse to do any more compelling to my boss, even though sometimes she makes it incredibly hard not to.

Our design studio is located in a large office downtown Atlanta, with large open windows and clear modern glass doors. Design tables are set up in groups all around the office with two desks facing one another. It's a very comfortable place to work in, with couches surrounding every large window. The one thing our boss Cheryl insisted on was a comfortable work environment, as that was proven to give artists the best outcome.

Over the course of the several months I've been here I've developed a close friendship with Logan and Christina, who were more than kind to include me in their friendship. They both have the same personality, which is why they fight a lot. They're a bunch of pranksters, who speak fluent sarcasm much like Joel does. To say the least, they're my kind of people.

Christina is a very funky and loud girl, with darker skin and brown hair with hot pink highlights. Logan on the other hand is a very outgoing and humorous man with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. We've all gotten to know each other very well, and we're all around the same age. Although now I'm going by the age twenty five, rather than seventeen seeing as a teen mom wasn't exactly the best thing for my resume.

"Oh would you look at that, it's four thirty. I believe it is time for me to head home," I say in monotone, still glaring at Logan.

"No stay! We're all going to get drinks after! You should come!" Christina suggests, but I shake my head like I do every time they ask me out for drinks.

"Sorry, I have a little three year old to pick up from preschool," I say, packing up my things.

"Oh come on. You say that every time," Logan whines childishly, spinning his pen around in his hand. It takes every ounce of strength in me right now not to snatch the goddamn pen out of his hands.

"Well I didn't just suddenly get rid of Theo," I joke, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Another rain check then?" Christina asks hopefully, her eyes wide and her brows wiggling.

"Yes," I sigh. "See you all tomorrow," I say, as I wave goodbye and head to the elevator.

Coming up and down this elevator has become routine for me, as has coming into work everyday. In some ways I'm living a normal life, the way James wanted me to. But just when I think everything will be okay, I see something that reminds me of him, or I see his face on a stranger walking by. It's little things like that that always catch me off guard, and make me feel like I'm slowly going insane.

With my purse strapped over my shoulder, I make my way down to the lower level of the office building where all the cars are parked underground. I head to my Audi and unlock the doors, fumbling with the keys in my purse as my hands begin to tremble.

The same time everyday I feel this immense wave of sadness wash over me, pushing down hard on my chest and making it hard to breathe. I have no idea why I feel this way the same time everyday, but it always comes after I finish work. Deep down I know exactly what's causing this sadness, but I'm too weak to admit it.

With my makeup running slightly down my face, I press harder on the gas sending the car roaring to life and down the road, out onto the busy Atlanta city street where I head to the edge of town to pick Theodore up. Every single day for the past year I show up to Theodore's daycare with smudged eyeliner and red eyes, and each day I have to explain to them that it's just allergies. I even got myself a fake doctors note to prove it so they would stop asking questions.

In a matter of no time I reach the preschool and park the car, but once again I'm late for pick up. With my black heels on, I speed walk to the doors and search for Theo, only to see he's sitting alone at his small desk, a book in hand like he usually is whenever I'm late. I guess it's only become habit for him to wait longer while all the other kids leave long before him.

I purse my lips and wipe my hand under my eyes to clear them of any tears before I approach Theo. "Hey buddy, you ready to go?" I ask him.

He nods and places the book into his tiny backpack before getting up and heading to the door. Before we can get very far however, his teacher calls to us from behind. I take a deep breath and roll my eyes before turning around and putting on my best polite face. "Hello, Ms. Pottsman, it's good to see you," I say, smiling widely.

"Hello, Ms. Salvatore," she replies grumpily. "It has occurred to me that this is the fourth time this week you have been late picking up Mr. Salvatore." She pushes up her cat-eye framed glasses and crosses her arms cross her chest in an interrogating way. 

"Four times? Really? That must be some sort of record," I joke lightly, but apparently she doesn't find it very funny.  "Ah, yes. I am incredibly sorry. I promise you that for the rest of the week I will be on time," I promise her, trying my best not to break my smile when all I want to do is break out my fangs.

"I would hope so, otherwise I'm afraid I will have to remove you from our program," she says sternly.

"Oh, I-I assure you ma'am that won't be necessary. Have a goodnight," I say quickly, grabbing Theo's hand and leading him to my car before Ms. Pottsman can say anything more.

After I buckle Theo in the back seat I drive home where we live about two blocks away. We live in a small suburban home, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a garage and an unfinished basement. It's incredibly small compared to the boarding house back in Mystic Falls, but the rent is cheep and for now we don't need anything bigger.

"Mommy?" Theo asks from the back seat.

"Yes buddy?" I say, looking back at him through the mirror.

"Why you always wait?" he asks, still trying to learn his words.

"Late?" I ask.

"Mmmm," he hums, staring at me through the mirror.

"I'm really sorry Tee, but I've been really busy. I promise I won't be late tomorrow," I reply, trying my best not to break down again. Thankfully Theo keeps talking, distracting me from my thoughts.

"Buess what I did today Mommy," he says excitedly, kicking his feet against his booster seat.

"What?" I ask, raising my brows in excitement.

"I showed Baisy how to flip pages without using your hands!" he cheers proudly, speaking again of this Daisy girl that I'm guessing he likes. I'm about to congratulate him once I realize what he means.

"Theodore, what did I say about using magic in school?" I ask sternly, raising my brow.

He frowns and looks down at his shoes. "You said not to," he murmurs, pouting his lips.

I sign loudly and lean my head against the car door while pulling into the driveway. I quickly unbuckle myself and grab Theo from the back seat, walking him up the stairs to the porch of our tiny house. As soon as we step through the door Theo plops his bags on the floor and runs to the fridge, as he always does after preschool.

"Theo! What did I say about leaving your things in the middle of the hallway!" I shout, but by now he's long into the food. For a three and a half year old, he's pretty smart, and for the most part knows his way around the house. He's quite capable of doing and getting what he wants which has become both a problem and a gift.

As Theo gets settled I grab the phone and order a pizza as I usually do whenever our fridge is empty, and as of lately I haven't found the time to grocery shop.

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By the time we finish dinner it's around seven thirty, also known as Theo's bed time. I don't even have to tell him as he usually walks to the stairs by himself at the set time. However, his little legs still have trouble climbing the massive wooden stairs.

"Here buddy," I say, lifting him up in my arms and plopping him into his bed. He lets out a giggle as he bounces on top of his bed, sliding under the covers. "You all set?" I ask him.

"Mmm," he nods, pulling his polkadot covers up to his neck.

"Okay. Goodnight Theo, I love you," I say, kissing him on his forehead.

"Mommy?" he calls, just as I'm about to turn out his light.

"Yes?"

"When is Bames going to come back?" he asks hopefully.

Just the sound of James brings an ache to my chest as everything I was feeling earlier comes flushing in. Theo asks this question at least once every couple of months, and every time I tell him the same thing because I'm too heartbroken to say anything else.

"I don't know, baby," I whisper. "Goodnight," I say, turning off his light and closing his door as a tear slips down my cheek.

I purse my lips and head to my usual spot whenever I feel down. There's only one place in this house that truly reminds me of James. Only one spot that really makes me feel like he's still here.

I march down the stairs and head to the garage, revealing James's perfectly shiny black truck parked there, the same place it's been for the past year and a half. I sniff up some tears as I climb into the passenger side of his truck, closing the door and sitting there in the dark, letting the light of the moon shine through the windows.

Once I'm settled and alone, I lean my head back and let it all out. I refuse to cry whenever I'm around Theo as he'll only ask more questions I can't find the answers to. I find myself out here in his truck often, sometimes saying my thoughts aloud, or sometimes just sitting in silence while I soak up the remaining smell of James that seems to be permanently engraved into this truck.

I begin to choke on my tears I'm crying so hard, so I reach into the glove box and pull out the only bottle of bourbon around since I've banned alcohol from the house. It's unopened, so I fumble my fingers around the cap to unscrew it, but they're too wet with tears to do anything. "Damn it!" I yell, sobbing harder.

When Theo and I first moved into our house, I thought everything was going to be okay. I thought I had gotten over the worst of everything, like I had gotten past the worst stages of grief. But it turns out Elijah had been right. Just when I thought it was over, and just when I thought I had accepted everything, all the pain came crashing in again, reality smacking me in the face like it is now.

"I-I can't keep doing this anymore," I cry, placing the bourbon back in the glove box. Part of me really wants it, but the other part doesn't want to let Theo down. "Every time I think I'm okay, I think about what could have been. I think about what should have been," I whisper, calming myself down as I speak aloud.

"You should be here, James. You should be here living with Theo and I. You should be here watching as he grows up. Theo needs a dad, and you would've been the perfect one," I whisper, my eyes overflowing with the salty streams, each trail of water reaching my lips.

"I miss you, James," I say, leaning my head back against the seat.

Just as I close my eyes, I feel a slight pressure on the side of my face, almost if something is touching me. I turn my head in the direction of the drivers seat which remains empty, but for some reason I can't shake the thought that someone is there. It's dead quiet, and extremely dark, but I swear in this moment, I feel as if someone is really here.

As if James is sitting right here beside me.

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[completed & edited: 09/14/2021]