I'm back with another fic! I'm on a roll. This idea wouldn't leave me alone so I had to get it out and once I did, the ball really started rolling! Enjoy!
Sometimes she liked to remember a time when walking through her front door didn't hurt. Sometimes she looked at the pictures on the walls and let herself remember when she was once happy. Sometimes she looked at the walls and remembered a time when they didn't feel like they were closing in. Sometimes she let herself remember when she didn't hate herself, when she didn't screw up every good thing she had.
She took a deep breath as she unlocked her door and dropped her keys on the entry way table. Just like everyday, she glanced up at the picture hanging over the table. The smiles in the picture haunted her, they chased her down no matter where she was and mocked her and her pain. It was hard to believe she was once that happy, that she didn't cry herself to sleep every night. She looked at her wedding picture once more before tearing her gaze from it and continuing into her home.
She glanced at her reflexion in the mirror in the hall. She was a shell of a woman. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, her skin looked dingy, her bones jutted out in unnatural ways. She was lost even to herself. She hardly recognized herself. So with teary eyes she forced herself to look away and bury the pain as she did day in and day out.
She walked into her living room and moved to flop onto the couch before hideous memories flashed behind her eyes and she moved to the chair in the corner. She couldn't even sit on her favorite couch. She wondered for a moment when her life fell apart. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago she'd been happy. They'd been happy together. She blamed herself for everything. For her pain, his pain. It was her fault the last few months were hell. She sighed and dropped her head in her hands. Everything was her fault. Even now, after she'd been dealt the news that would make any other person ecstatic with joy, she was alone in her house wallowing in self pity.
She was a mess.
Her heart dropped when she heard his car pull into their driveway. She counted his steps as he approached the door. She held her breath as he unlocked the door and dropped his keys on the same table next to hers. She said nothing when he appeared in the entryway of the living room. She let out a heavy sigh when he tore his gaze from hers and continued into the kitchen.
She couldn't handle the way he looked at her. He blamed her. Sometimes she wondered if he hated her. She hated herself so she couldn't blame him.
The silence in their home ate away at her. This is how it was. How it always was. She could hear him and see him moving around, but words were hardly spoken. They were so broken, sometimes she wondered if they were beyond fixing. She was beyond fixing. He'd given up on her. He was all she had left and she failed him.
She decided she'd just give up for the day. She had enough of her emotions for one day. They were choking her, suffocating her. She should be happy, crying tears of joy, but instead she was miserable. She hated herself. She hated her situation. Sometimes she hated him. Most of the time she just hated how much she loved him. After everything they'd been through, she loved him.
She headed for the stairs, but his voice stopped her in her tracks before she even took one step.
"We have the benefit tonight," Damon's voice was detached, just like everything else he did that had to do with her. She was just a monumental fuck up. She was the only mistake he'd made in his near-perfect life.
"I'm not sure I'll make it, I don't feel well," she said. Her voice was tired and strained.
"You haven't been 'feeling well' for weeks and we've known about this for months. You know how important it is to me," he said, his voice raising slightly. It was probably as much emotion as she'd ever get out of him. But something in his words set her off. She hated him for brushing off her illness as a little thing. If only he knew. It was almost laughable. Almost.
"Why don't you just take your mistress?" She shot at him with as much venom as her energy would allow. She felt a small satisfaction at how his eyes lit up with anger. It meant that she finally succeeded in making him feel something toward her other than his cold attitude.
"Dammit Elena!" He shouted as his fist collided with the wall next to her head, "When are you going to stop punishing me for that?"
The sound of fury in his voice almost made her smile. She was so messed up that she had to get her husband angry in order for him to respond to her at all. Him being angry is how she'd gotten them into yet another mess.
"When I get the image of you and my best friend half naked on my couch. In my home!" She yelled back. The memories of that day haunted her.
She'd just had another normal day. Well, her definition of normal. Her life was slowly spinning out of control and she felt him slipping through her grasp by the second. She pushed him too far. She lied to him and then she was punished by the universe. Her life was feeling like it was on a one way track to hell.
She was supposed to spend the day out with her brother, her Aunt Jenna and her Uncle John. Her three only living relatives she had. They were trying to cheer her up, but she just didn't feel like it. So she'd bailed early and looked forward to an empty house.
Her heart dropped when she saw his car in the driveway. She didn't know how to face him. It had been a whole week since their explosive argument in the kitchen that led to a frenzied and angry coupling, right there in their kitchen. She'd successfully avoided him for days, still not knowing how to act or what it meant for them.
She quietly opened the door, assuming that Damon was asleep. She didn't want to wake him mostly because she didn't want to face him in the light of day.
As she opened the front door she heard a rustling sound coming from the living room and her curiosity got the better of her. She moved through the house, her front door wide open until she reached the living room.
There was her husband, shirtless, and an equally naked Andie writhing against each other while their lips were infused in a passionate kiss. Her first thought was that he hadn't kissed her like that in months. He hadn't touched her so gently and carefully. He hadn't made love to her. She almost laughed at her initial reaction. If she hadn't been so horrified.
She stood and watched them for a few more seconds before the reality of the situation sank in. Her mind went blank and her keys fell to the ground. She didn't even remember holding them.
Both heads on the couch snapped up at the sound and she saw the mortified looks on both their faces. She finally found her voice as Damon worked to cover Andie.
"Don't bother, I've been standing here for a while so I pretty much saw it all," she spat.
"Elena," Andie started, she moved herself from under Damon's body and put her shirt on in record time.
"Don't even speak to me. Don't look at me," Elena seethed, "Just get the fuck out of my house."
Both Damon and Andie stood frozen in their living room.
"NOW!" Elena screamed.
Andie jumped at the volume of her voice and quickly moved past her to get out of the house. Elena moved further into the room when something caught her attention. She slowly picked it up and examined what she found.
"Oh, Andie," Elena called, she watched as Andie froze and slowly turned to face her, "You forgot your bra."
Elena's voice held no emotion as she threw it at the woman who once was her best friend. She didn't bother looking at Damon as the door slammed.
"Elena," he said, his voice was soft. Softer than she'd ever heard it in the past few months.
She turned to look at him, still shirtless and his hair a mess. How could he stand there after what had just happened and her body still want him. But instead of saying anything, hot tears finally rolled down her cheeks. Without a word she turned away from him and climbed the stairs to their room where she locked herself in and cried the rest of the day.
It was all her fault. She lied. She pushed him into that. She's the reason he had to seek comfort in the arms of her best friend. She couldn't even carry a child without messing it up and losing it. She couldn't even have a husband that stayed faithful to her.
Just as she'd done that day, she turned away from him without a word and headed up to her room, but as she reached the landing she turned to face him. He stood in the same spot at the bottom of the stairs staring up at her.
"I'm pregnant," she finally said, her voice detached, "I thought you'd like to know."
She watched his face go pale as her words sank in. She didn't bother to stick around for his response. She didn't want to know. So she continued down the hall and locked herself in her room to sleep the day away and try to forget the hellhole her life had become.
Pregnant. His wife was pregnant. He couldn't believe it. As if they didn't have enough strain on their marriage.
He wished he knew how they got like this. They'd been so happy. They laughed with each other, they were crazy in love. He was never able to take his hands off her, he always had to be touching her in some way, like she kept him grounded. She was always so strong and brave. Sometimes when he looked at her these days, he felt like he was looking at a stranger.
He dropped onto the chair she'd sat in earlier and dropped his head in his hands. How had they gotten so far off track? So far off that he turned to another woman for comfort. What kind of man did that make him? It made him just like his father. That thought alone made him sick. He was so disgusted with himself for that, he couldn't look in a mirror for days.
He remembered the first day when she seemed elated. She had spent a few weeks singing around the house, smiling at him, baking, the whole nine yards. He would feel happy just walking into their home. She filled it with warmth and joy that was almost palpable, but then one day it all just disappeared. He didn't know why or how, all he knew was that she was pushing him away. He fought it with all his strength, but she just pulled further away from him.
It was breaking him down. It almost hurt to be in their home, it was cold, uninviting, and suffocating. He would spend as much time as possible at the station. Then he ran into Andie one day and they sat down to coffee and she made him feel something again. She would respond to him and engage in conversation with him, something- at that time- Elena never did.
They slept in the same bed, but it felt as if there were miles between them. He tried to break through, but she would just lash out at him. Soon he just gave up and sought comfort in another's arms.
He knew it was wrong the whole time, every time he saw her he knew it was wrong. Every time her touch lingered just a little too long he knew he needed to stop her, but didn't. He never protested her advances. He knew it was wrong, but he never stopped her. He knew he only felt for her because she gave him the attention that he craved from Elena.
He almost enjoyed punishing her. She was destroying him from the inside out and she wouldn't even tell him what was wrong. Sometimes he wondered if he was the reason behind her sudden change. Maybe he did something, said something. But whenever he tried to find out, he got shot down.
Nothing prepared him for the look on her face when she caught them. The look on her face alone practically ripped his heart in half. He'd made a monumental mistake. Sometimes he tried to blame her. Sometimes he justified his actions, saying that she basically forced him into this. He knew it was wrong, but sometimes he was just so angry with her. He was hurting and she didn't even care. She didn't even notice.
Sometimes he wondered if she even loved him anymore.
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