Taking Over Me
Author's Note: I wasn't really ever going to put this out but Vampire Diaries fanfiction is seriously lacking in the brotherly love fics so I decided to upload this. I'm not really sure where I takes place, wherever you think is fine I didn't really write it for any specific episode. This is not incest. Please review!
Warnings: Self-mutilation and maybe some OOC(I didn't mean it I promise!)
Solitude floated around me and for the first time in a century and a few decades I was actually irritated about how alone I was. It was a suffocating feeling and I felt a pit drag in my chest as if my dead heart had just been sucked out.
I stared into the roaring flames in the fireplace, just staring, wishing I could be inside them at weak moments. I tried hard to pull that switch inside of me off but it just wouldn't budge. Permanently stuck on.
I was forced to feel all of these unwanted emotions. Pain, fear, shame, self-loathing, and worst of all, guilt. At any moment I wondered if I would break down and start sobbing into the floor like a little girl. I didn't though, I didn't even move.
I didn't have any energy left to move. I was, to put it ironically, dead inside. I didn't move, speak, not even a blink. Stray thoughts left my mind in a jumbled mess. Is this what depression feels like?
I didn't even bother to fill up my glass again when I noticed it was empty, I simply let it drop to the floor, shattering and spreading glass everywhere. Stefan would yell at me for that I was sure.
But I didn't care. It seemed I didn't care about much right now. Just the sinking, burning feeling inside of me that reminded I was still here and not floating off somewhere in a dark abyss.
I wished I could be numb, but wishes never really did come true, now did they?
At the same time I was a hollow, empty shell, not able to move I was too restless. Like something under my skin was trying to escape. I needed to run, to flee away into the dark night and hide away from humanity. I need to get out of this damn house.
I needed to, needed to...scream
I smirked slightly when an image came into my head of me screaming into a pillow on the couch and Stefan walking in wondering if I had finally lost all of my sanity.
I didn't scream, nor did I run into the night. I slumped down from the couch until I was sitting as close to the fireplace as I could without burning my hair off. I liked the heat, it was filled with dangerous promises.
I eyed the fire poker, leaning against the fire place next to me. Without a thought of why I needed it I picked it up and stuck the sharp end into the flames until I could see it glow red with heat.
I took it out, wincing at the heat it let off and I extended my right arm.
It was as if my body had been possessed, like my mind was trapped back far away where it couldn't control my movements, screaming at me to stop.
I placed the now white hot tip to my skin and marveled as my skin turned red and into a charred black. The pain was incredible, it swept through me, into my very veins and shot a numbness of all thoughts and emotions and suddenly the only thing I felt was this beautiful burning sensation.
I liked this, I liked it a lot.
I drew the fire poker down my arm creating a line of burned skin. I decided to be artistic and I sketched vines in a beautiful pattern with the searing hot metal. I looked down at my arm only to see a black mess of lines at first, and then I saw the beauty.
Intricate patterns of black scarred into my flesh. I wished they didn't have to leave, but after a few minutes my flesh was healed and anew. Perfect white skin again, and I hated that it was so damn perfect.
I did it again, harder this time so when it came time to heal, red welts were left behind stinging.
I sighed, feeling high with this new numb feeling inside of me, taking away all the feelings. Like a temporary off switch.
But when it was over, when the pain had receded I was left knowing what I had done. I had just hurt myself... Self harm, self mutilation, whatever you wanted to call it I had just taken pleasure in it.
I shrugged not being able to care that much and I shakily got off the floor, throwing the fire poker away I bounded upstairs needing to change into a long sleeved shirt before Stefan got home, before he could see my arm.
Not that I cared what he thought of me, I just didn't want him on my back all night. I found my leather jacket and pulled it on. I looked around my room with a sigh and suddenly my eyes fell on a very interesting object.
My favorite dagger, it was sheathed in red leather. It was my favorite because it was no ordinary blade, it was long, smooth, black wood. Able to kill vampires. I use it only when I need to kill one without the help of a stake or just my teeth.
I picked it up and twirled it in my fingers for a few moments and sat down on the edge of my bed. I rolled up the sleeve to my non burnt arm and stared down at it like in a trance. I put the blade to my wrists and with one swift movement cut deep down. I watched memorized as blood seeped out and dribbled down staining my bed and the floor.
This feeling it was even better then the fire burning me. It was such sharp pain that it cut out all of my emotions and left me feeling even number then before, feeling dizzy and high.
I smirked to myself and realized I had just found a new way to keep that switch off. But like always the pain faded enough to let my feelings and thoughts come back and they attacked me ruthlessly.
I ignored them and cut again, making a long cut down my wrists. I kissed the blood as it rolled down my wrists and found even more enjoyment in the taste of my own blood.
This went on for a while. Cut, numb, feelings back, cut again. My arms were now scattered with cuts and burn marks.
My healing put off after so much harm done to me with fire and wood.
I got up feeling, a lot fucking better then I had before. When the thoughts and feelings attacked I would just think of all the pretty scars on my arms and it would momentarily push them away. I was surprised to see my little brother, downstairs. I guess I was to wrapped up in my knife I hadn't even heard him come home.
A sudden sense of shock waved through me as I saw he was inspecting the fire poker. I muttered a curse and turned to leave silently but he turned around to fast and saw me. Knowing I was about to make a run for it he raced across the room and pinned me to the wall.
Normally I could push him off, tonight being so weak and dizzy for all of that loveable self mutilation I couldn't.
"It smells like dead flesh in here and you smell like blood, why?" He asked with a determined glint in his eyes. I tried to grasp for a lie I could feed to him.
"Went out hunting duh, I always smell like blood." I answered a little breathlessly, not sounding at all like myself.
He arched an eyebrow at me and his eyes seemed to be roaming all over my body, looking for something.
"I meant you smell like your blood, Damon. But you don't look hurt..." He trailed off as his gaze rested on my arm. I looked down and I could see a small line of blood running down my hand, coming from under my jacket.
We locked eyes and I knew what he was going to do next so of course I fought him off. I struggled and writhed beneath his strong hold, trying desperately like a caged animal to get away but to no avail.
With his free hand he tugged my jacket off and left it lying on the floor exposing my arms and all their glory.
He was silent for a long time, no words, not even the sound of breathing. I waited, squirming every now and then trying to break my arms free from his grip.
Suddenly he threw me down onto the ground and let out a long sigh as if he was trying to regain control. I tried to use this moment as my escape but just as easily as before he pinned me up against the wall, hard.
I grunted in pain and hissed at him.
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes dark. "What brother? I thought you liked pain?" He snarled at me viciously.
The words sent a flare of fire through me and I wished I could reach the knife just inches away in my jacket pocket.
"Damon. Why?" Stefan asked sounding broken now, defeated. I looked up to meet his eyes to see they were watery with tears. Guilt raced through me and I cursed myself for feeling so soft.
Stefan was actually hurt that I hurt myself? He actually cared? Well that was new.
I wouldn't answer, I didn't know what to say. I couldn't speak, for fear my voice might tremble. Fearing this would let all the emotions I work so hard to keep in, escape. Worst of all, I really didn't know why.
Because it felt good? Because it helped with the pain. That would be admitting I had pain, and that is somewhere else I would not want to venture.
So instead I stared at him, I forced myself to look as a tear fell down my brother's cheek. I struggled not to let my own tears out of these solid ice prisms. I haven't cried for 150 years and I wasn't about to start now.
But something inside of me broke when the tears fell more freely down my brother's face. My resolve broke. I hadn't seen my brother cry since our mother died and neither had he but in a second we were both crying.
I felt pitiful, ashamed, sick. But I stood there, hot tears running down my face and suddenly I was wrapped in my brother's arms.
Wrapped so tight if I were a human I would be crushed right now. We both sank to the floor in each others arms sobbing like we had when our mother died.
My mind reeled back to that event.
"Damon?" I heard my brother's quiet whisper from the door way. I sat up in my bed to see his eyes were red as if he had been crying recently. He was only fourteen compared to my seventeen. I motioned him forward and he came in and shut the door shutting us in the dark.
Suddenly I felt him jump into my bed and crawl under the covers with me. His warm body pressed against mine. I could feel him shaking.
I rolled over and enveloped my brother in my arms. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his head in my chest.
I kissed the mess of his dark brown hair gently and spoke soothing words to my little brother. Our mother had just past away, a heart attack in her sleep. It seemed the hardest on Stefan, as he was closest to her.
I felt his tears soak through my shirt and I heard his sobs as they echoed through my head. I felt my tears drop on him and he looked up like a scared little mouse.
"Damon?" Stefan asked me quietly.
"Yeah, little brother?" I whispered back.
"You'll never leave me, right?" He asked me with a broken sob.
"Never, baby brother." I answered him with a small, sad smile.
He stared up at me for a few moments as if to decided if I was telling the truth. He nodded in confirmation.
"Not a baby." He muttered as he snuggled his head deep down into my chest.
"You always will be to me, baby brother." I whispered down at him as I stroked his mess of hair. Within a few minutes he was asleep.
"Damon?" Stefan's voice snapped me back to the present. We were on the floor, wrapped tightly against each other. My blood was staining his white shirt but he didn't seem to care.
"Yeah, little brother?" I asked softly.
"You'll never leave me, right?" He asked like his little fourteen year old self had so many years ago.
"Never, baby brother." I told him determinedly with a smile.
He pinched me hard and laughed. "Not a baby." He muttered rolling his eyes at me. I ruffled his hair, missing the messy mop of dark brown locks that my little brother had always been so fond of.
"You always will be to me, baby brother."
Review and tell me what you think please just so I know someone read this.