'Stefan’s Diaries: Origins Chapter 10\r'

'September 4, 1864\r\nMidnight. in addition late to fall a quietus, in addition early to be awake. A foundationdle burns on my nightstand, the flitter shadows foreboding.\r\nI am haunted already. Will I ever forgive myself for non finding Rosalyn until it was too late? And why is she â€the mavin I vowed to departâ€still on my caput?\r\nMy head is pounding. Cordelia is eer at the door, forwardering drinks, lozenges, powdered herbs. I repel them, like a recuperating child. arrest and Damon glance at me when they think Im asleep. Do they endure of the nightm ars?\r\nI popular opinion marriage was a fate worse than death. I was wrong. I was wrong ab reveal so many another(prenominal) things, too many things, and all I can do is pray for forgiveness and hope that somehow, somew here(predicate), I can summon\r\n lastingness from the depths of my\r\nexistence to wait on firmly onto the path\r\nof the right again. I give do it. I must.\r\nFor Rosalyn.\r\nAnd for her. \r\nNow I forget blow out the candle and\r\nhope for sleepâ€like that of the dead\r\nâ€to engulf me quickly….\r\nâ€Å"Stefan! beat to get up!” my yield called, slamming my bedroom door.\r\nâ€Å"What?” I struggled to sit, not sure what arcminute it was, or what sidereal day it was, or how much time had passed since Rosalyns death. Day faded into night, and I could never really sleep, only snooze into terrifying dreams. I wouldnt bring on eaten anything, except that Cordelia act to cont lay off into my room with her concoctions, spoon-feeding them to me to ensure that they were eaten. Shed make hot up chicken and okra and a thick mash of what she called sufferer stew which she state would\r\n, make me step better.\r\nShed left another one, a drink this time, on my nightstand. I drank it quickly.\r\nâ€Å"Get ready. Alfred will dish you prep ar,” my father said.\r\nâ€Å"Get ready for what?” I asked, swinging my legs onto the floo r. I hobbled to the mirror. I had stubble all over my chin, and my tawny hairs-breadth stood up on all ends. My eyes were red, and my nightshirt was break off my shoulders. I looked awful.\r\n Father stood behind me, evaluate my reflection. â€Å"Y oull pull yourself in concert. Today is Rosalyns funeral, and its important to me and the Cartwrights that we are there. We want to show everyone that we must band together against the evil thats scourging our town.”\r\nWhile Father prattled on about demons, I thought about facing the Cartwrights for the start-off time. I still entangle horribly guilty. I couldnt help thinking that the attack wouldnt bedevil happened if Id been delay for Rosalyn on the porch, instead of lingering in the sight with Katherine. If Id been outside, waiting for Rosalyn, I would assume seen her walking from the field in her pink dress. Maybe I could stupefy faced death with her, too, and she wouldnt have had to confront that hair-raising anim al alone. I may not have loved Rosalyn, but I couldnt forgive myself for not being there to save her.\r\nâ€Å"Well, come on,” Father said impatiently as Alfred walked in, holding a white linen shirt and a double-breasted opaque suit. I blanched. It was the suit Id have worn-out at my weddingâ€and the church building where we were grieveing Rosalyn was to have been the site of the ceremony establishing our union. Still, I managed to change into the suit, allowed Alfred to help me shave, since my manpower allowed Alfred to help me shave, since my hands were so shaky, and emerged an hour later ready to do what I had to do.\r\nI kept my eyes down as I followed Father and Damon to the carriage. Father sit up front, adjacent to Alfred, man Damon sat in the back with me.\r\nâ€Å"How are you, brother?” Damon asked above the familiar clip-clop of Dukes and Jakes hooves down willow tree Creek Road.\r\nâ€Å"Not very well,” I said formally, a stiff lump in my t hroat.\r\nDamon deposit a hand on my shoulder. The magpies chattered, the bees buzzed, and the sun physical body a golden glow on the trees. The stallion coach smelled like ginger, and I felt my jump heave. It was the smell of guilt over lusting after a woman who was never to beâ€could never beâ€my wife.\r\nâ€Å"Your premier(prenominal) death, the first one you witness, changes you,” Damon said finally, as the coach pulled up to the white clapboard church. The church bells were ringing, and every business in town was disagreeable for the day. â€Å"But perhaps it can change you for the better.”\r\nâ€Å"Maybe,” I said as I descended from the coach. But I didnt see how.\r\nWe r from each oneed the door as Dr. Janes hobbled into the church, his cane in one hand and a flask of whisky in another. Pearl and Anna were sitting together, and Jonathan Gilbert sat behind them, his elbows perched on the edge of Pearls pew, just inches from her shoulder.\r\nShe riff Forbes was in his usual place in the second pew, fulgurant at the cluster of rouged women from the tavern who had come to pay their respects. At the edge of their circle was Alice, the barmaid, chill herself with a silk fan.\r\nCalvin Bailey, the organist, was playing an adaptation of Mozarts Requiem, but he seemed to hit a sour note every few chords. In the front pew, Mr. Cartwright stared straight ahead, while Mrs. Cartwright sobbed and occasionally blew her nose into a lace handkerchief. At the front of the church, a closed oak coffin was covered with flowers. Wordlessly, I walked to the casket and knelt down in front of it.\r\nâ€Å"Im so sorry,” I whispered, base the casket, which felt cold and disenfranchised. Unbidden, images of my betrothed popped up in my mind: Rosalyn giggling over her new puppy, giddily discussing flower combinations for our wedding, risking the impatience of her maid by planting a hugger-mugger kiss on my cheek at the end of one visit. I moved my hands off the casket and put them together, as if in prayer. â€Å"I hope that you and Penny have found each other in Heaven.” I leaned down, letting my lips grade the casket. I wanted her to know, wheresoever she was, that I would have learned to love her. â€Å"Good-bye.”\r\nI turned to take back my seat and stopped short. Right behind me was Katherine. She was erosion a dark-blue cotton fiber dress that stood out in the sea a dark-blue cotton dress that stood out in the sea of black crepe that filled the pews.\r\nâ€Å"Im so sorry for your loss,” Katherine said, strikeing my arm. I flinched and drew my arm back. How dare she touch me so familiarly in public? Didnt she sympathize that if we hadnt been carrying on at the barbecue in the first place, the tragedy might never have happened?\r\n chafe registered in her dark eyes. â€Å"I know how hard this must be for you,” she said. â€Å"Please let me know if you need anything.”\r\ nI immediately felt a wave of guilt for assuming she was doing anything other than showing sympathy. After all, her parents had died. She was just a young girl, arrive at out to offer her support. She looked so sad that for one wild second, I was tempted to cross the aisle and still her.\r\nâ€Å"Thank you,” I said instead, sucking in my stale breath and walking back to the pew. I slid next to Damon, who had his hands crossed piously over a Bible. I noticed his eyes swagger up as Katherine briefly knelt down by the coffin. I followed his gaze, noticing the way several curls had escaped from on a lower floor her hat and were curling around the ornate detainment on her blue necklace.\r\nA few proceedings later, the Requiem ended, and Pastor Collins strode up to the pulpit. â€Å"Were here to celebrate a life cut distant too short. There is evil among us, and we will mourn this death, but we will also draw strength from this death …,” he intoned.\r\nI covertl y glanced crosswise the aisle at Katherine. Her servant, Emily, was sitting next to her on one side and Pearl on the other. Katherines hands were folded as if in prayer. She turned slightly, as if to look at me. I forced myself to look remote before our eyes could meet. I would not lash out Rosalyn by thinking of Katherine.\r\nI gazed up at the unfinished, steepled beams of the church. Im sorry, I thought, sending the message upward and hoping that Rosalyn, wherever she was, heard it.\r\n'