[before episode 1.1]

January 19, 2009

HORROR CONSUMED me as we drove to see Dr. Maxfield early that Monday morning.

To make matters worse, Enzo had been hauntingly silent all morning, and I was itching to hear his voice. To know if he was okay. To know what to do in this dumpster fire that had become my life.

Mom stayed at home, helping Elena and Jeremy get ready for school, so it was only dad and I making the journey to Whitmore College to see him.

Bitterness seemed to help provide some relief to the overwhelming fear, so I stayed completely silent and stared out the window as we drove. A couple times, dad tried to explain how all of this was meant to help me, but the emotions swirling inside me were too intense to focus on anything else. I couldn't fathom holding a conversation with him in this state.

So I didn't.

By the time we made it to dad's office, I could tell he was properly fed up with me and happy to pass me off to the creepy, blond doctor. Terror filled me as soon as I made eye contact with the man.

Although I had been upset with him all morning, at that moment, I was nearly desperate enough to plead for him to stay with me. However, he went off to his own office before I found the words.

Now left with this creepy doctor I'd only ever seen in passing, I tried to ball my hands into fists to stop their shaking, but even this seemed to capture his attention.

He nodded at my hands as we sat down in his office. "You seem angry. Are you not looking forward to being here today?"

"Oh, oh no, I'm not angry," I said, smiling politely like the good founding family daughter I was. "Just a bit nervous around strangers."

Maybe if I could convince him to look at me like a child, he would think twice about torturing me.

"Why is that?" he asked, starting to write something down in a notepad.

I tensed, wondering what I could have said that captured his attention.

"Oh, just stranger danger and all that," I said flippantly. "My mom always taught me to be cautious and polite around people I don't know."

He smiled but didn't say a word.

My insides crawled.

If he wasn't going to say anything though, neither would I, I decided. I instead let my eyes wander curiously around the office space, looking at his medical license hanging on the wall and noticing the picture of him and a smiling blond teenage boy resting on his desk. There was no wife in the photo though, and it wasn't difficult to figure out why with all of his creepy staring.

"I've worked with your father for a long time, you know," he said finally. My eyes snapped back to his face. "I'm not really a stranger. I met you when you were still in diapers."

I smiled, liking the way his head was going. Yes, think about me as an infant. That way I will be safer, seen as more human.

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"From who?"

I shrugged. "Coworkers of my parents, founding family members, et cetera. Did you know my mom's foundation is hosting a charity event next week? It's for the homeless youth in Richmond."

"I was aware of that, yes," he said. When I nodded and smiled at my lap in response, he tilted his head to the side, watching me closely. "Your father tells me that you believe you met a vampire. Is that correct?"

"Nope." I shook my head. "I just had a drunken hallucination, and it hasn't happened since."

If I thought his eyes were cold before, at my mention of having a drunken hallucination, his face grew impossibly darker.

"What did they look like?" he asked.

"This is stupid," I said, crossing my arms. "I understand you have to like, do your due diligence, but I'm just a dumb teenage girl who drank too much after getting rejected. As I told my dad already, I'm fine."

"I understand how you feel," he said, gentle smile returning to his face. "It can be so frightening to experience a hallucination, especially if what you saw made you feel unsafe or convinced you that you would get hurt if you told anyone what happened."

"No, no, it didn't make me feel unsafe," I said, trying to convince him. "It was just weird in the moment and hasn't happened since."

I tried not to react to what he was saying, but chills erupted over my skin. I had no idea what my face was doing, but I'm sure the terror had started to seep into my features.

"Your father also told me about some other concerning things he's noticed in you in the last month. Do you mind if we discuss that?"

I stiffened. "I'd rather not."

His eyebrows lifted to his hairline.

"I mean no disrespect, sir, but I'm perfectly fine, and truthfully, the stress of how my parents are reacting to that one-time episode is impacting me way more than the hallucination did."

He stared at me as if trying to weigh the truth in my words. I swallowed hard and made sure not to look away and to mean every word I was saying because ultimately, it was the truth. My parents' part in all of this was far more stressful than Enzo's presence.

"Margot, sweetie," he started more softly, "from what your dad has shared, it seems that you have not experienced only one episode."

My eyes tightened. "What?"

"He's heard you, talking to yourself in your bedroom when you're alone, pretending to be on phone calls when your phone is turned off, and acquiring new hobbies that were not of interest to you before," he listed. "All of that seems to point toward something else being at play here."

Suddenly, Enzo's cracked yell sounded through my mind, muffled but there. It was haunting and horrifying and full of so much agony. If Dr. Creep weren't sitting in front of me, I was sure I would have started crying.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think any of that is true," I said, trying not to choke on my sudden fear for Enzo.

He motioned his hand as if to tell me to carry on, and he put that same plastic smile on his mouth, although his eyes remained calculated and cold.

How dare he pretend to care? How dare he pretend to be kind?

I would never let him get to me.

"Sure, I talk to myself in my room," I said with my best attempt at wide, honest eyes. "I'm a hobby writer, so I like to plan out my novels by talking myself through scenes of dialogue. I tend to write fantasy romance and romantic comedies the most, so I promise you, I am not having conversations with some vampire."

I laughed, as if the mere idea was ridiculous.

"My dad tends to get very nervous about anything impacting our family's reputation in Mystic Falls. As a founding family, there's almost like a spotlight on us, and my parents have both always been wrapped up in that."

"I see."

I resisted the urge to nervously fiddle with my fingers. I wished this stupid, creepy doctor would stop looking at me so closely.

"So, I do feel loved deeply by his desire to ensure my safety and well-being," I said. "I know I have been incredibly lucky with my parents and the privilege I have being a Gilbert."

I paused and took a deep breath.

"But my dad is always looking for signs of something being wrong, something to fix, that it feels like he blows little things out of proportion sometimes," I said. "When Elena got her first boyfriend, my dad started playing pro-abstinence TV programs and radio shows constantly around the house. For three weeks.

"By the end of that month, my siblings and I were all trying not to rip our hair out. I remember telling Elena that if I heard one more graphic depiction of an STD at breakfast, I was going to run away and join a brothel, just to show him that everything was not as bad as he was depicting," I joked.

He chuckled a little, and I smiled at the feeling of accomplishment. I just needed to get this guy off my case and convince him I didn't know anything.

"And if by new hobbies, you're referring to me fainting in the library," I paused with a little giggle, "sir, I wouldn't consider fainting a very enjoyable pastime."

"You seem to make a lot of jokes," he said, finally interrupting my long-winded defense. "Do you tend to use more humor when you're deflecting or nervous?"

All at once, I felt the soft smile on my face starting to harden.

"Maybe more so when I'm nervous," I conceded pleasantly.

"And why are you nervous to be here if you don't believe anything is wrong?" he asked, leaning forward to put his elbows on his desk.

"Because I don't prefer being judged by a stranger," I said with an awkward shrug. "I get enough of that from my peers. Everyone is always comparing me to my sister."

I winced, immediately unsure why I shared that.

"Tell me more about that."

I swallowed and stared down at my hands, willing them to not shake. "People say I look like Elena but less pretty, less attractive, less hot. People say she's more charismatic—which she is—and that she's got such a bright future compared to me since she'll likely join the council with my parents as she's been so involved for years now."

Dr. Maxfield stayed silent, and I decided to fill that silence this time.

"It's why I was in the library the day I passed out," I said. "If I truly can be honest here...I hadn't eaten that day unless you count the vitamins and glass of orange juice my mom shoved on me before school that morning, but I didn't want to admit that to my doctor. It's...embarrassing."

"Comparison can be hard," he said, "especially if it's with your younger sister, it sounds like."

"Yeah." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I think I wanted to make myself more pretty by losing weight and more successful like her by learning about the founding families. I thought that maybe...maybe if I could come up with some brilliant founding family event, people would start looking at me too."

He nodded and started to write something down. "Is that why you were reading about the Salvatore family when you passed out?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'd never seen them at founding family stuff, so my best friend, Caroline, and I were reading more about them. Do you know the Forbes family?"

"Yes, I do."

"Yeah, Caroline is a Forbes. She's also really involved in the founder's stuff, so I thought she might have some good ideas too," I said, biting my bottom lip to feign being deep in thought. "Do you think I'm dumb for comparing myself to my sister? I mean, she's a cheerleader, known by like, everyone, and she's dating a football player. And I can't even talk to a guy without them claiming a less hot version of her!"

I threw my hands up for good measure.

Quietly, I added, "You know, maybe this was good after all. I didn't realize how much this comparison stuff has been eating at me."

"Is that what started all of this for you?"

"Yeah, someone called me a less hot version of Elena on my birthday, right before the hallucination."

He bit on the end of his pen and nodded. "I believe you, Margot. However, given some of the struggles you've shared with comparison and eating, I am going to recommend to your father that we have a few more sessions of psychotherapy. Ideally, we can work on your self-esteem, and I would still like to monitor you for more hallucinations."

I tried to look at him worriedly. "You think it could happen again? Even if I've stopped drinking?"

"It's unlikely but possible. Often, if you have only ever experienced psychotic features during substance use, you will not experience it again until you use that substance again," he said. "However, sometimes clients will see that the alcohol instigated the psychosis with more long-standing effects on their mental health. My goal is to ensure that does not happen for you."

I nodded, allowing my shoulders to slowly relax. "That sounds reasonable. Thank you."

He stood up and offered hand to me to shake. "It's been lovely to meet with you. I will go talk to your father about scheduling more sessions, and there's a natural supplement I will prescribe to you. It should help to restore your nutrition and support your blood sugar."

I smiled widely. "That would be helpful, thank you."

He nodded and stepped out of the room. I sat back on the cushy chair in his office and tried not to smile too widely.

It was the most desperate performance of my entire life, and they didn't suspect a thing.