Thanks so much for the support and reviews guys! I'm like a kid on Christmas morning when check my email and see you guys reviewed! I hope you like the chapter! I'm sorry, this chapter is kinda dark. P.s how do you like these daily updates? (I'm spoiling you)
Heat. My body was burning. I felt like I was sleeping on a space heater or something. I roll over and try to find a cool spot on the sheets. Something is constricting me and I pull at it, thinking I have twisted the sheets around my waist. But these aren't sheets, they're moving. My eyes snap open and I look down to see a pair of arms around me. I feel panic in the pit of my stomach and roll the opposite way trying to get away from whoever was next to me. I successfully twist out of their grasp and try to put as much distance between me and whoever is beside me.
I roll off of the bed and hit the floor with a thump. The sheets above rustle and the bed squeaks as someone's weight shifts. I quickly look around for any object to use as a weapon to defend myself with when a sleepy but amused looking Damon hangs his head over the side of the bed.
"Smooth." He smiles groggily. Memories of my last night rush back into my head, how good he was with me, him staying with me, he must have feel asleep. I blush as I think about his arms wrapped around my waist. Why did I have to be so stupid? I could have layed there comfortably with him.
"Sorry I'm not used to having strange men in my bed when I wake up." I say as I huff and stand up from the floor. I grab a hair tie from the top of my night table and tie my hair up in a ponytail.
"You didn't have to stay you know." I said trying to play it off like no big deal but I was warmed at the tenderness he showed me last night, I was practically giddy from it.
"You asked me to. You ask, I come. I'm easy like that." He says and raises his eyes. I chuckle at him and sit back down on my bed. He rolls back from the edge and sits up. His hair is flopping in his face and he looks absolutely adorable. I threw myself back on the bed with my back to the mattress. I stared at the ceiling above me and wondered if the sheets smelled like him.
"Just so you know, I'm extremely embarrassed. I'm almost 22 and I still have nightmares like I'm 10. I'm a mess." I say apologetically. I am down right ashamed of myself actually.
"You are a mess." He agrees. "I only do things I want to do Elena. If I didn't want to help, I wouldn't have." He replies earnestly. I turn to look at him where he had joined me back in my bed, his blue eyes gazing at me under a thick fringe of dark lashes.
"Elena?" he asked.
"Can I ask you what happened last night?" he cautiously asked. I remind myself to take deep breaths and to try to act as normal as possible. I sat in silence for what must have been minutes before I figured out what to say. He deserved to know the truth, it would make it easier for both of us, if he knew I was broken goods it would be easier to stay away from what I want, him.
"Nightmare's. I get them almost every night. I can't even remember the last time I've gotten full night's sleep without waking up."
"What about? You don't have to answer this if you don't want to Elena."
"It's okay, I need to. I was in a relationship with this guy, his name was Mason." I gulped as I said his name in discomfort. "It was great in the beginning; I was so in love with him. I thought that he would be it for me; I would have thrown in the towel right then for him, I would have gladly called it quits and have settled down with him. He seemed like the perfect man, but I guess first impressions aren't accurate. You would know that more than anyone."
I smile but then continue. "But he started acting really controlling and one day he snapped on me. He hit me, kicked me and beat me up when I was home alone one night. I called the police and filed a restraining order, but that didn't keep him away for long. He posted bail and came back to my house no more than a month later; I went up to my room after a run and found him sitting there. He…. Uhhh… hurt me again and here I am." I concluded, he didn't need to know the gory details. My hands shook as I twined my fingers in the clean white sheets.
His perfect mouth is set in a deep frown, worry lines stand prominently out on his forehead, and I so desperately want to smooth them with my hand. "I would have killed the bastard." His voice was firm, intense.
I did. I think and take a deep breath to calm myself. My hands fidget about nervously.
"I practically pulled the trigger myself. I may not have held the gun, but I drove him to do it." I whisper out as the guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders.
"He's dead." It wasn't a question. His eyes burned into mine and I couldn't find the word. Yes. All I had to say was yes. One little word that I couldn't get out. I nodded my head and hung it in pure mortification that my life is so broken with no hope of repair.
"He didn't hurt you?" this was a question. I looked up at him and brushed the hair from my forehead exposing the long scar on my hairline. He tenitavly reached his hand forward and brushed his fingertips over the scar, I closed my eyes from the pain. Not that it hurt, it was just scar tissue. The pain came from the memory and that like my life, he will always be a scar on my happiness and otherwise unblemished skin, a constant reminder. A physical cue.
"He all but ripped me to pieces." I kneel on the mattress and lift my shirt up enough to allow the two wounds to show themselves, I didn't want to say this part out loud. His eyes widened as they took in the blemishes on my skin.
"May I?" he asks. I nod and his hand goes to my stomach, goose bumps follow his fingers as he touches the puckered skin of the scars. His hands move up to my rib cage just below the bottom of my sports bra and I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation of the pain, but the only thing I can concentrate on is his skin on mine. When I open my eyes he shifts closer to me before placing a hand behind my head and resting it on my hair. He gently pulls me forward until my head is resting on his shoulder. I pull back with slightly watery eyes and give him a sad smile. I hated Mason almost more than anyone else on this earth, but I hated myself more.
"Don't do that Elena." He says and I look up in confusion, can he read minds or something? "Don't do that whole self-loathing, broody thing. I've been down that road before and believe me it gets you nowhere. Actually it gets you drunk and really upset." Was it really that easy to read me? He was describing me like an open book right now.
"It's hard not to hate myself when I look at the person I have become. I'm weak; I've let him affect me so much. Even when he is dead he has more power over me than anyone else. I dream about it, the slightest smell or sound sets me off. I can't watch TV, or listen to the radio; everything violent reminds me of that night." I say hollowly. When he doesn't speak, I continue. "I'm like a broken mirror Damon. There are hundreds of tiny insignificant pieces that fit together to carry out its function. When that mirror breaks, those individual pieces add up. No matter how hard you try, if you try to put that mirror back together there will always be something missing. Those pieces take away a little something from the whole of it. And those shards; they are continually holding me back from living the life I had imagined as a little girl, the life my parents would have wanted me to live. They are the shards of who I used to be Damon. I'll never be fully right or functioning again, no matter the time spent or who tries. I abandoned my friends and family and pity myself instead of dealing with my problems. " I finish; my voice is as empty as I feel.
"You've been through hell Elena, you deserve so much more than to be so fearful. But what you don't realize is that you give him the power over you. You are choosing to live under his terms, this is your life. Live it. That's the life your parents, your friends, your family and I want you to live. You're right, a piece will always be missing, but there may be something or someone out there that will fill it for you one day. And I want that for you." He said passionately. I was stunned by his speech, he was right. I was scared. I was so god damn scared of someone hurting me again I had become a social recluse.
"But I deserve it Damon. Every mistake I've made in my life came down to this." Karma. What goes around comes around, and I got mine.
Was it possible to be in shock from something like this? Because I think I was. And suddenly everything fit together, her insecurity, her episodes of crying and finally the fainting that happened when she first arrived here. I hadn't thought anything of Stefan playing his gun game with the realistic sound effects then but now I understood. Any reminder or memory triggered an emotional break. She had never confronted what had happened head on it seemed, that's why she was suffering like this.
"You don't deserve anything that has come your way Elena. You are just so…." I was at a loss for words, so I settled with my fourth grade favorite. "Good. The strongest people are the ones given the greatest challenges. I admit it. You put on a good act. It had me fooled Elena, but you can only pretend it's real for so long before it catches up with you."
Since we were both spilling secrets I figured she would want to understand my father's tumultuous relationship with me.
"I made the same mistake. My mother died when giving birth to Stefan of some rare complication. One in a million chance, Stefan was fine but my mother was weak. My father was away on business and missed Stefan's birth. I held her hand as I watched her die; she cradled Stefan in one arm and held my hand in the other. She was so beautiful, so sweet and caring. She brought the best out of my father. When he returned home, my mother had already died. He resented me so much, for a while he wouldn't even look at me. It was a few years before I even realized why, but one night he drunkenly confessed it. I was her spitting image and I was the last one to see her, my father begrudged the hell out of me for it. I was just a kid, I never fixed our relationship. He hasn't said much more than a few words to me unless they were necessary since. But he will yell and reprimand me."
I say sensitively.
"Damon I'm so sorry." She said as tears welled up in her eyes, undoubtedly feeling pain for my father, Stefan and myself. Was there anyone she didn't feel pain for? If the girl felt like this when she was sad I wondered how she must love. Recklessly and all-consuming I'm guessing.
"It's alright. It was a long time ago. And you have me beat in the story department. I don't have any cool scars to show off." She snorted as she ran her fingers through her hair, which was falling in layers around her face.
"Elena was that the first time you have said it out loud to someone?" I ask quietly, I didn't want to push her too far; she was so trusting and fragile.
"Yes." She replies quietly.
My heart squeezed painfully at the contorted expression she wore on her beautiful face. She deserved so much more. If that bastard was still alive I would rip out his heart and feed it to him. How could someone so compassionate and kind, who had faith in all of humanity, be treated with such disrespect by the scum of the earth?
"Why are you telling me?" I mirror her solemn tone. Out of all the people she could confide in, she chose me. Chalk it up to curiosity but I wanted to know why, why not saint Stefan or Caroline? Why did she choose me?
"Because I trust you. It has nothing to do with the fact that you see right through me and always know the right thing to say." She said and a slight smile appeared on her lips. She trusted me, well trust worked both ways and of course I trusted her.
"I never know the right thing to say Elena; I just seem to say what I'm thinking around you." I say as I raise my hand and swipe a chunk of loose hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear, she stiffens at first before relaxing into my touch.
"Hey lets go downstairs. I'm starving." She nods in agreement and we walk downstairs.
Breakfast passes normally with not even a hint of awkwardness. She seemed genuinely happy; maybe she just needed to get it off of her chest. But I was still curious, the questions I wanted to ask most were too hard for her to answer, I didn't want to put her through that pain. So when she went out to run errands I went upstairs and sat in front of my computer. I typed Mason, Elena Gilbert, Mystic Falls into the search bar and clicked on the first link that came up. It was an article from a newspaper called the Fall's Recorder.
Just yesterday neighbors of the Gilbert family were outside enjoying the weather when gunshots were fired in the home next store. They promptly called the police who arrived on scene only minutes later. Mystic Fall's resident and teenager Elena Gilbert was found on scene suffering two gunshot wounds to the stomach as well as the chest. Her ex-boyfriend Mason Lockwood was also found on scene, he however succumbed to his injuries after he made an attempt of homicide-suicide,successfully ending his own life. Gilbert had previously filed for a restraining order against former boyfriend Lockwood after a domestic abuse dispute. He stayed in jail no more than twenty four hours before posting bail. The murder weapon was found on scene and lab tests confirmed Lockwood's prints as well as blood, Gilbert's were not found on the murder weapon. Inside the young woman's room was a gruesome scene, Gilbert appeared to have put up a fight. Broken glass and blood littered the floor around Lockwood's body. Gilbert was airlifted to Richmond Hospital where she is currently recovering from surgery; surgeons have refused to comment on the extent of her injury however her family has released this information to us. The first bullet narrowly escaped piercing a lung and was lodged between two ribs, cracking them severely. Gilbert's other ailments include bruised bones, 2 broken ribs as well as a broken wrist. She is in stable condition and is on the mend, as citizens of Mystic Fall's, please keep the Gilbert family in your thoughts.
I sat completely stunned and scrolled down the page further. There were pictures further down depicting the crime scene. A seemingly innocent looking bedroom was completely massacred, large streaks and pools of blood littered the floor. I can only imagine the pain she went through. I feel sick to my stomach knowing the whole story now, I need to do something for her and fast. I open up a new email and scroll through my contacts; sure enough I find the strange name I am looking for. Alaric Saltzman. I close out of the disturbing images that would probably haunt me in my own dreams and walk around my room spot cleaning. A few minutes later there is a ping in my mailbox.
How very generous of you. Elena would absolutely love that. Send he my best, the contact information is as follows.
Good Luck, she's a sharp one. Cover your tracks well, she will throw a hissy fit if she finds out.
I wrote this chapter in a half hour today during my lunch period and hated it. I ended sitting back down at home and bringing it in a completely different direction, including bringing in a completely different story line than I anticipated. We already know the story from Elena's POV but now we see it through Damon's analyizations, where you can really see the extent of Mason's depravity. But don't worry, now that it's all aired out, better things will be coming. This is the last of the dark stuff for this story.