Words Unspoken

Story: Words Unspoken

Storylink: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10529770/1/
Category: Vampire Diaries
Genre: Elena G., Damon S.
Author: throughmysoul44
Authorlink: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4422557/
Last updated: 10/15/2014
Words: 72294
Rating: M
Status: In Progress
Content: Chapter 1 to 17 of 17 chapters
Source: FanFiction.net
Summary: When a mysterious mute girl is found in the woods, ruthless Damon is reluctant to care. With a little
convincing, however, the vampire agrees to foster the obscure refugee who frustratingly does not understand a word of
English and who is enthralled by the simplest of technology. Only when the werewolves take an interest in her does he
realize she may be vital to the vampire race.
*Chapter 1*: Chapter 1
Author's Note: New story! Yay! I really hope you enjoy! Thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for being a fantastic beta! xoxo
Ren
There is something you should know about me: I do not give a fuck, not about anything. There's an expression I once
heard: 'behold this field where I keep my fucks and you will see that it is barren'. That statement pretty much sums up my
entire existence. I do what I want, when I want, wherever I want. My teeth have sunk into the flesh of humans from every
religion, country, and ethnicity. There are no exceptions. If you have blood, I am going to suck you dry.
Sometimes for fun I'll play with the victim, sprawling my body out in the middle of a quiet road, waiting until an innocuous
soul slams on the brakes, their eyes wide in panic. I especially enjoy listening to the way their hearts race and the way
their blood pumps feverishly through their veins. I have to keep myself from shooting up from the pavement and attacking
them. The patience required is nearly unbearable. I feel them shaking my body with trembling fingers, whipping out their
cellphones for help.
That's when I grab them, pressing my palm firmly against the back of their necks until they are forced down to my lips. I
momentarily enjoy the way their artery pulsates before sinking my fangs into it. The screams only make me smile that
much more, feeling as they thrash in my hold. Sometimes I will pull away just to watch the way the life leaves their eyes.
In other circumstances, I must be quick, especially when there are other spectators inside the car, sobbing in complete
hysteria as I reap the lives of their loved ones.
I feel an urge to replicate that feeling after only two glasses of scotch. There is something coaxing me to that same road
tonight. I slam the door behind me, walking slowly along the road, my black clothing mixing in with the darkness all
around me. Cars pass one by one, each lucky to escape the fate of my thirst. I can tell it will be a slow night, but my eyes
wander up to the sky and all I can see is that giant moon. It is so big that it feels as if I could walk toward it and trail my
fingers along it. I squint my eyes from its harsh brightness, grateful that its presence cannot burn me to ashes.
When I finally get bored of placing one foot in front of the other, I stop. It is silent momentarily and the forest
encompassing the road on either side is still and seemingly dead. I sigh, once more looking up at that big, old moon.
Now why can't vampires jump high enough to reach out and touch it? I scoff at my own stupidity, kicking a small rock
near my right shoe. I hear branches snapping behind me and I turn quickly. Nothing.
"Stupid fu-" I begin to hiss, suddenly stopped by the headlights in the distance.
I nearly fall into position, stretching my body perpendicular to the double yellow line trailed along the center of the road. I
close my eyes and wait for the pathetic humans to do the rest. As if expecting every move, I listen as the brakes squeal to
a complete stop, but unexpectedly the tires are just inches from my body. Now I am pissed. Like, what the fuck? Are you
too busy receiving a blow job to notice the person in the road? If I move my head four inches to the left, I will be able to
feel the rubber against my fucking face.
I wait for them to finally care. The woman and man both hover me, screaming at each other. Welp, their deaths will make
a lot of people happy, I can guarantee that. Their annoying bickering is reverberating in my ears like nails on chalkboard.
Without another thought, I snap the man's neck in one swift move before grabbing the woman by her throat, silencing her
instantly. I look deep into her hazel eyes with a smirk before latching onto the column of her neck. She's what I call 'a
screamer'. That awful high-pitched shriek makes my ears cry in agony at its horridness. I suck harder, wanting this
irritating woman to just die.
I am covered in blood, feeling how the warmth seeps onto my skin. I look down in frustration, realizing that I am holding
her body with such force that I have created a deep gash in her flesh with my nails. Obviously I am far too tired and
maybe even too drunk to have realized my clumsiness sooner. I move to the man, ready for another round of blood-
sucking heaven, inching my canines closer. That's when the rustling in the woods beside me on the road augments until
my eyes catch it, or her.
It is like Bambi: The Fucking Sequel, like a little scared doe emerging from the forest. The girl is dressed in a white, full
length nightgown, her long, brown hair flying wildly behind her. Her eyes are wide in panic, but then again, all I can really
notice is the fact that she is running toward me. Why me? I hiss to myself. I am drenched in blood, about to rip this man's
throat out, and this girl is running right for me. I quickly look around, waiting to see a hidden camera somewhere. This is
a joke, right? There is no way this is happening.
Before I can even think, she's clutching my shirt, tears brimming in her brown orbs. Her lips open and she mutters some
fucking gibberish, quivering against my chest. Let me tell you, I've heard a lot of languages in my day and that was surely
not of this planet. Seconds pass and her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses against me. Don't worry, I am
tempted to follow her. I want my eyes to roll back at how ridiculous this is. When she falls, I notice the tattoo on the back
of her neck, the black ink more of a myriad of unrecognizable lines and symbols than anything else.
You know where this girl belongs? A looney bin. A high security looney bin with lots of pleasant drugs they can put her
on. Vampires are not toys, children. You especially don't run up to them. I let out a frustrated groan before ripping a
pinned piece of brown cloth from her nightgown. It looks worn and just barely clings to her. I unravel it and in calligraphy
the words spell Protect Elena. Wow...she has a name! I chuckle incredulously before stuffing the rag into my jean pocket
and reluctantly pulling her against my chest.
I will admit that she is quite beautiful. She looks, well, drinkable. I feel an urge to sink my teeth into her sweet, little neck,
but think better of it. This girl obviously needs some serious mental help. She looks young enough for the American tax
dollar to save her sanity. As I walk, I swear at myself. I think about how ridiculous this entire situation is.
And even better, where the fuck are her parents? If they show up, I will rip their throats out for just for being complete
idiots. Who lets their daughter dress like the Virgin Mary, run through the forest late at night, get a tattoo, and speak freaky
languages? Are they just as crazy? The school system must be going to shit if proper English is this hard to come by.
Through my anger, there is also a tad of curiosity, my eyes glancing down occasionally at her. Her heart rate is slow,
slower than it should be.
My walk soon turns into a jog and then into a full on sprint. I turn into the giant iron gates of Mystic Falls Psychiatric
Asylum, using my vampire speed to arrive at the front door. I knock a few times, impatiently waiting for yet another human
who doesn't do their job in a timely fashion. If I could kill people based solely on effort, half this planet would be extinct.
The woman finally opens the fucking door and my eyes instantly bore into hers.
"Take this girl, admit her, and give her whatever psychiatric help she needs. She's a little...um...how do you say it?" I
pause, facetiously pretending to think. "She's psycho, insane, mental, crazy. Catch my drift? Her name is Elena."
I laugh at my own sarcastic wit and shove the girl into the woman's arms. I see that the blood on my shirt has transferred
to her once immaculate white dress, now just a sea of red blotches. My eyes glance at Elena one more time, and
something inside my chest suddenly aches. I turn to leave, ignoring this strange allure to the girl and not looking back. I
use supernatural speed to carry myself back to the boarding house, ready for a nice, stiff drink. I am tired of all this
psycho shit. Before long there will be unicorns galloping down the streets with hundreds of crazy Virgin Marys shouting in
some shitty ass language that no one knows. I could not handle it.
When I finally collapse in the den, I grab my still-half-empty scotch glass, tipping it up until the gold liquid can drizzle
down my throat. I sit there, hour after hour, thinking. I don't think about much, but for some reason, it is the only thing I can
bear to do. I find my hand slipping into my pocket, pulling the tattered rag out until I can fix my eyes on it. I read the words
over and over, contemplating. About what? I have no idea.
Then it hits me. I grab the phone, dialing little Bonnie Bennett's house phone. There are crazy people in the world, but
with Elena...something is different. I can feel it. The weird language, the emergence from the forest, the full moon. This
girl can only be a psycho of the supernatural variety. Great...just fucking great, but I need some answers, so with one last
eye roll, I press the phone up to my ear.
Author's Note: Feedback would be well appreciated! The chapters will get much longer from here on out! xoxo Ren
P.S. Don't be afraid to laugh at Damon's sarcasm! His humor is one of the main reasons I fell for him on the show! :)
*Chapter 2*: Chapter 2
Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the support! I'm very excited about this story!
Thank you also to my beta, LiveBreatheVampires for her help! xoxo Ren
When she finally picks up the fucking phone, she clears her throat before speaking. For some reason I cringe at the
unsettling noise, holding back an awkward chuckle that I can feel gurgling up inside my chest.
"Hello?" Bonnie whispers.
A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips before I finally speak, ready to give this girl a heart attack. Let's just say...it has been
a few years.
"Hey Bon Bon," I chuckle.
"Damon? What the hell? Why are you calling me and why at four in the morning?" She spits the words exasperatedly.
"You're an insomniac, remember? I know you can't sleep anyway. Plus, I need a favor," I bluntly admit, "Just calm down,
Miss Judgy. I went to your mother's funeral. We're practically family."
I trail my index along the rim of my drink, waiting for her dramatic reaction.
"Damon, you said you only came to the funeral for the free alcohol," She strains and I can hear the irritation in her voice,
but I only smile more.
"Okay. You got me, but your mother was a good woman, so yeah...if you could just help me. That'd be great." I am
becoming less and less patient with each passing moment.
I know I was a dick to her family, but hey, it was nothing personal. Why is this girl still hanging on to the past? I roll my
eyes, chugging the liquor in my hand and ignoring the excruciating burning sensation as it goes down.
"You used my mother. You are sure as hell not going to use me, too." Her tone is accusatory and shrill as she speaks.
"Okay, so I bribed her into helping-" I begin to say before the girl on the other line interjects.
"No, no you threatened her family. You threatened her little girl so that you could have what you wanted. You're an
asshole, Damon," She snaps, hanging up the phone.
I'm left sitting with only the dead phone line beeping beside my ear. I swear under my breath, redialing her number and
listening as each ring sounds for four brief second before beginning again. I wait and wait, losing my sanity with every
chime until finally I slam the phone down.
I pace the room over and over, thinking again. Somewhere in that time, my hand finds my scotch glass, chucking the
entire thing against the fireplace until it smashes into thousands of tiny fragments. I grab the phone again, redialing for
what feels like the thousandth time.
"Stop calling, Damon, got it?"
"Bonnie, I practically watched you grow up. Please, just listen to me. All I want is information, nothing more." I am
practically pleading. I never plead, but Bonnie is the only witch left that doesn't hate me enough to use their magic
against me.
I'll tell you, one witch used her powers to slice thousands of cuts across my body before chucking a bucket of vervain
water at me. Nice, right? For fuck's sakes, these witches are ruthless and I'll give them credit for that. The problem? I can
be just as ruthless right back, as Bonnie seems to remind me time and time again.
I did indeed threaten Bonnie's mother into helping me for almost 30 years, even way before little Bonnie Bennett was
born. She was my private witch that I went to whenever I needed something. Her mother did everything she could to
protect her family and so I got my way. Yeah, I did make threats and I used her mother like an old rag, but when the
woman died from cancer, I felt bad. All those years, I watched her daughter grow up. It seems the dust hasn't yet settled.
"Get to the point then," She hisses at me.
"Tonight there was this young girl that ran towards me, right into my arms and fainted. She muttered some gibberish,
possibly a mix of Latin and something else. She had a tattoo on the back of her neck and she was wearing a white
nightgown. There was a full moon when she came out the woods. I don't think it's just a coincidence," I explain, finally
seating myself back into the chair.
"What did the tattoo look like?" She asks with urgency in her voice.
"A bunch of scribbles and lines. I guess it looked tribal with a word probably from the same language she muttered."
The tattoo I had seen was just so strange. It was certainly a symbol of some kind with an even stranger word scrolled in
the middle. It was far too convoluted for a teen girl to come up with.
"It can't be," Bonnie whispers, obviously surprised by something. I roll my eyes once again, irritated.
"Speak English, woman. Damn, does anyone know how to speak?" I answer, annoyed.
"It was a legend Grams used to tell me when I was young. It was said that there was a girl who was the emblem of the
vampire race, a way for nature to destroy what it had created. What's special about the girl is her purity, something
completely contradictory to a vampire's nature."
"Wait, what?" I ask. It's as if the words are just not registering.
"In nature, there always has to be a loophole, a way to destroy everything that is created. This one girl is supposed to be
the anchor. If she dies, the entire existence of vampires will die with her. It was just a story, though. Grams told me it was
a myth."
"So...you're saying that this fucking human's death will be the end of all vampires? One lousy human holds everything?"
"It's more complicated than that. She cannot be killed unless she is weakened. Her purity must be tainted until she can
be vulnerable enough to kill. But that's all I can remember of the story. Damon, listen to me. If that girl gets into the wrong
hands, you're risking your entire existence," Bonnie urges me and I'm surprised that she sounds so concerned.
"Well where the hell did she come from and why the fuck did she run to me?" I couldn't stop asking questions, confused
and spooked by the witch's confession.
Elena, the weird looney, just so happens to hold my life and the lives of every vampire on earth in her hands? Well...fuck.
The news is worse than I expected. Why can't she be an illegal immigrant that turns out to have witchy powers or
something? She could be anything, but of course it involves me and my life. The only two things on this planet I actually
care about.
"I don't know. I need time. I know other witches, but it will take time."
"Well, I dropped the girl off where she belongs. She seems safe at the Crazy Hospital Inc."
"Damon, stop joking around. This is serious. It's your life, not mine. So if you want to act like a child, so be it. You should
at least take my advice and keep her out of the wrong hands until I can find out more about her."
"So you're going to help me, Bon Bon?"
"I want to know more. Nature affects witches just as much as it does vampires. This isn't about you, ass," She hisses
before hanging up once again.
"Love you, too," I laugh sarcastically, finally ending the call.
I grab my leather jacket and the car keys, hopping into my sweet ride. I start the engine and zoom down the main road of
Mystic Falls. Deciphering my feelings is impossible in the moment. The last thing I want to do is get involved. Bonnie
expects Damon Salvatore to harbor a psychotic young girl? I can barely take care of myself, let alone a human. I want to
rip someone's lungs out right now, my foot flattening the gas pedal until it brushes the floor of the car.
I pull right up to the facility, not giving a single fuck that I am illegally parked. I run up the door, knocking over and over until
the same woman answers, her eyes growing wide. I grab her arm, again compelling her hazel orbs.
"Show me Elena," I hiss and within seconds, she is walking down a long hallway.
The place looks exactly as I expected: sterile, stuffy, uncomfortable, and absolutely the worst kind of environment for
unstable people. I would go crazy in this place. I wince when I feel a cold breeze down the corridor, picking up my pace
awkwardly.
When the woman finally stops in front of a thick wooden door with a small window, I peer in briefly. A group of doctors
surround Elena, all holding her down as she screams and fights them. I remember what Bonnie said about her purity
and my eyebrows furrow at the realization. The drugs are impure.
I bust through the door and all the heads snap in my direction. I am already cranky and especially ready to rip their heads
off. As fun as it sounds, I reconsider with Elena just feet away.
"She obviously doesn't want your fucking drugs. Get out before I dent your skulls with my fist."
They all scamper toward the door in fear, just one older man inert beside the girl. He stares right back at me, unafraid.
"Sir, you're drunk. Go home before I call the cops," He says calmly.
I'll let him call the fucking cops who don't do their jobs half the time anyway. I laugh at him, grabbing the collar of his
doctor's jacket and dragging him to the door. His heart races and I smirk before chucking him into the sterile, white
hallway and slamming the door.
I look back at Elena, who is just watching me calmly. I step toward her and she doesn't react. Her eyes occasionally look
at me, curiously questioning my intentions. I stop when I am beside the bed, my arms close enough to reach out and
touch her. She is still in her white nightgown, scattered with blood and torn at one of the seams on her arm.
"Answer me, Elena. Do you speak English?" The question comes out awkwardly and I take a deep breath.
She just sits there, staring at my lips as they move, but obviously not understanding anything I am saying.
"Elena. Did you lick tomatoes in the library last Tuesday?" I want to validate the fact that she does not understand a
single word.
Again, no response, no movement, nothing. If she had laughed, at least I would know that she can comprehend words,
but not speak them. This girl is like a baby and let me tell you...I know nothing about babies or kids. This should be fun. I
am tempted to call up Bonnie and beg her to take this girl. Why does my precious life have to be on the line? Why me?
I have no empathy in my cold, little soul. Being nice is just, well, not possible. I certainly do not do 'baby talk'. I do not have
patience, I do not give a fuck, and I sure as hell know nothing about taking care of her. I begin to use hand signals,
hoping that that is at least familiar.
I gesture toward myself. "Damon," I say pathetically. Next I point at her. "Elena."
I repeat this, forcing a smile to show it has a positive connotation. She smiles back surprisingly. Why she likes me, I
have no idea. Why isn't she afraid? Damn...when I think she can't get any weirder, she does. The girl must be in her late
teens, probably sixteen or seventeen and her long brown hair is matted with leaves and twigs. Her eyes have the color of
warm chocolate and she has a tall, lanky appearance. She is a beauty.
I return to using my hands as I speak, already annoyed. I grab her hand and her eyes widen, but only in surprise and
unexpectedly, not out of fear. I tug a little, pointing to the door. She seems to understand, moving her legs until they
dangle over the edge of the small bed. I force yet another fucking smile. I am tired of smiling, pretending to give a fuck,
and especially tired of being patient.
"You're coming home with me," I explain, hoping that the words may register deep down in her supernatural brain.
I lead her to the door and she follows obediently. Her eyes are alert, both curious and anxious for my next instruction.
Elena's hand is warm in mine, but I can feel the dirt encrusted between her fingers and along her cuticles. The hallway is
absent of anyone and I feel relieved as I walk. The sleep deprivation is getting to me, my eyelids threatening to seal
themselves shut.
I begin to pick up my pace, pulling Elena behind me until we are outside. My car is exactly where I had left it and I smile in
my usual cocky manner, yanking the passenger open. Elena suddenly tugs on my hand, whimpering.
"This is my car," I say softly, smiling as always to reassure her.
Where was this girl from? Had she never seen a car? It couldn't be. I roll my eyes, calmly helping her in. She seems
confused when I sit her down in the seat, looking up at me with those doe eyes. I nod with another counterfeit grin and
shut the door. She jumps a little but I'm pretty sure she'll live.
I rush to the other side of the car before she can panic. When I do the same thing to my door, her fears are relieved. Still,
the situation is super awkward. I start the engine, wanting to just get her home so that I can maybe...um...lock her in a
closet or something. She'll be safe, right? I shake my head, taking off into the night. My attention turns to the girl
repeatedly, seeing how her eyes light up. She can't believe this thing can move and so fast.
I have never seen such innocence in her discovery. She is genuinely fascinated about life, about this new world.
Wherever she came from, it was nothing like here and for a fleeting second, I almost feel sad...almost. I just wish that I
knew more. I know absolutely nothing about her except for her name and the fact that she doesn't speak or understand
fucking English. Ugh.
We pull up to the boarding house, welcomed by the outdoor lights that illuminate the circular driveway for us. Again,
Elena's eyes grow in awe at the sight. I scoff, first opening my door. Afterward, I walk around to her side and help her out.
We walk up to the front of the house and I step inside first, followed by the girl. As if nothing more could mesmerize her,
her mouth gapes open at the vast interior of my home.
"This is my house. This is where you'll be staying, Elena," I explain, setting my keys down and pulling the jacket off.
I point things out as we walk. At least she has the sense to follow me, like a dog, I suppose. Never had a dog, but I
guess it can't be much different. As long as I give her some bread once in a while, she'll be fine, right? The stairs
confuse her when we approach them and she reaches down to touch them out of curiosity.
I groan, walk back down the steps and demonstrate to her how to walk up the staircase. This girl is psycho. No stairs? In
her whole life, they didn't have stairs? She smiles and looks up at me and I nod. The way Elena looks to me for guidance
is making me uncomfortable. I do not usually fucking guide or help people, I kill them. I pull my eyes away from her
intense stare, grabbing her hand and guiding her up the staircase with me.
We reach the top and I point at the first door to our right. I tug her in the direction, opening the door and leading her
inside. The bed is already made and clean, regularly tended to by my hired help. When in desperation, I suck their necks
to fulfill my hunger, but I won't tell Elena that, even if she cannot understand.
Her hand slips from mine and before I can even think, her fingers are exploring things. They touch everything, curiously
discovering. I feel the sarcasm pulling at my heart, begging me to belittle her, but I can't for some reason. I do not want to
feel emotion and so I coax my heart to distance itself. At one point, I consider shutting the door and locking her in, that
way I don't have to deal with her, but she's been too well behaved to already have hatred for.
"Elena." I say and she turns to look at me, "This is yours."
I gesture around me and then point at her, repeating my statement in the hopes that she can understand. She smiles
and I feel like I own the whole fucking world. This was easier than I thought. I laugh in disbelief. She understands!
Seconds later, I hear something that sounds like a running faucet, but wait...no, no, no. I hesitantly look down. A puddle
is presently forming beneath Elena, a smile plastered across her olive toned face. I freeze, first out of panic for my
beautiful wood floors and then out of disgust at the fresh smell of urine filling the air. She doesn't know what a toilet is?
No fucking way.
"ELENA," I snap and my eyes darken in anger, leading to a panicked wail escaping her now quivering lips.
Author's Note: My beta admitted that she laughed really hard at the end..."Can't stop laughing at Elena peeing on
Damon's floors! Haha! xx"! I Love Amy!
Thank you for reading! Please review! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 3*: Chapter 3
Author's Note: Thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for being an amazing beta! xoxo Ren
I grab her arm in an instant, seizing it in my fury. She is standing in her own filth, curling her toes in its warmth. The
screams come first and then desperate cries as if begging me for mercy. I begin to push her down, face first, into the
wetness until she is just barely hovering it, my roars of anger bouncing off every wall.
"We do not do that. Bad girl. Bad," I bark over and over.
She is physically shaking in my hold, clawing at my body for balance. Her feet slip repeatedly on the hardwood floors, her
grunts of effort rising in volume. Before long, I drag her along the wood toward the bathroom, the anger pumping
ruthlessly throughout my bloodstream. The urge to rip her limb from limb is boiling inside me, the devil whispering for
me to do it.
I plop her down on the toilet, pushing on her shoulders as if to enforce my demand that she stay.
"This is where you fucking piss. On this toilet, here," I snap.
She looks up at me as if I have murdered her entire family. Her bottom lip wobbles when her eyes lock with mine, and I
pull away before they can make me feel a single ounce of regret. I shake my head, reminding myself that I should be
livid. She needs to understand the difference between right and wrong.
Comparing Elena to a dog at this point is not a far-fetched concept. Still, it only further validates my reasons not to keep
her. I am a fucking vampire, not a dog trainer, not a babysitter. I can't do this. I pace the bathroom momentarily,
contemplating. Damon, your fucking life depends on this. Bonnie's going to resolve this and then your life will resume as
normal, I tell himself.
My eyes click up to look at the fragile girl, still trembling. I catch a whiff of her and I nearly gag. I can't stand it any longer.
Taking two long strides over to her, I scoop her up like a sack of flour and set her into the base of the bathtub. She
doesn't even fight me. It's as if she's surrendered. I stand back up and look down at her. The girl silently sobs, yet not
moving a muscle from where I put her. I roll my eyes, turning the knob of the structure until the water begins to pound in
front of her.
I am shocked that she doesn't move. Her body is reclined against the porcelain, allowing the water to engulf her frame
like a slow seeping venom. I grab a bottle of soap and squirt a good amount into the water with her until the liquid turns
to giant bubbles. Her futile sniveling dies down soon enough. It seems the warm water has shut her up. I smile in
approval before turning off the steady stream of water.
The tub is filled up about the way with liquid, just skimming Elena's shoulders. The dried blood on her nightgown
fuses into the water around her in a light pink shade. I just let her sit like that for a few minutes, giving myself time to
calm down. I pick relentlessly at one of my cuticles until it bleeds, the pain only feels good. When I grow bored of that, I
walk back into her bedroom with a towel and what little bleach I have under the bathroom sink.
I scrub the floor, refusing to breathe through my nose. My knees are drenched in the bodily fluid, now lukewarm and likely
cultivating bacteria exponentially. I curse under my breath, holding the now contaminated towel out and away from me as
I walk. I conjure up the courage to clench it with my index and thumb, feeling the wetness touch me. I flinch and my face
scrunches up until I look like a little old man.
"Holy fuck this is nasty," I whisper, covering my mouth with my left hand as I step down the staircase and to the kitchen.
I step on the lever of the kitchen trashcan, watching the lid rise open until I can discard the vile piece of cloth. Yes, I threw
away a very expensive, fluffy, warm towel, but there was no way in hell I was ever going to let that thing touch me. Nope,
no amount of bleach could save that towel. I shudder when the wet mass slams against the bag inside the can and I
quickly pull my foot away until the lid can trap the monstrosity.
I feel a chill run up my spine and I shake it off before flying like a monkey back up that staircase. Elena is exactly where I
left her, immobile and staring at the white ceiling aimlessly. The bubbles are so dense that I can't see anything beneath
the water. Perfect. I grab the shampoo and position myself beside her. I push her shoulder forward until she obediently
sits up.
There is an empty scotch glass on one of the ledges. Yeah, they are normally for shampoo and shit, but they sure make
a great cup holder. Baths are amazing, but baths with a stiff drink are spectacular. I smile at the thought, grabbing the
glass and using it to pour water on her head. She whimpers quietly, and maybe she doesn't know it, but I can see the
tears trickle down her face. I am gentle in my actions, carefully massaging the shampoo into her brown locks.
I stare at the tattoo on her neck, mesmerized by it. My fingertips momentarily brush over it, before returning to their true
task. I'm happy for the silence, only the splashing of of water filling the empty void. The scotch glass works well for
rinsing, my hand repeatedly scooping liquid and pouring it on her head. At times, I even covered her eyes with my hand
to make sure that I didn't get any soap in them. When I'm sure all the suds have vacated the comfort of her locks, I put the
glass back where I found it.
It's inevitable. I have to take her nightgown off, so I do without another thought. I reach down into the water, feeling for the
hem of the dress. I grab it gently, pulling it up until it emerges from the dormant pool. Once again, Elena does not fight
me, not even a peep leaves her. I sigh, throwing the soaked fabric into the sink to deal with later. The bubbles hide her
bare silhouette completely, not that I think she cares at this point.
I step over to the counter where a stack of clean washcloths are situated. I grab one and return beside the tub. As before,
I pour a few drops of soap onto it, dunking it, and moving it over her. Her eyes stare straight in front of her, and for a
second I am convinced that I have already broken her. How? I scoff to myself. Maybe somewhere deep down I want her
to react, to fight me. No one just gives up like that, do they?
I am quick in cleaning her. When I get to the source of this activity, I pause. I can't do it, but I can't avoid wiping the area
when she is covered in it. And so I find her hand in the water, place mine on top of her and use it like a puppet. I grab the
washcloth, squeezing her hand to mimic a claw. I move it between her legs, hastily moving to her butt cheeks. I breathe a
sigh of relief when I finally retract my hand.
Next, I grab a towel, unfolding it and holding it out in front of me like bullfighter's cape, not to attract, but rather to shield.
My hand wraps around her arm, and pulls upward. She catches my intention quickly, standing on her feet and allowing
the water to drip into the pool enveloping her legs. The bubbles cling all over her, but I keep my eyes down out of
embarrassment, not that that usually stops me, but somehow it does in that instance.
I wrap the towel around her and help her step out onto the small rug beside it. Her eyes once again stare diligently at my
face, I can sense it. It causes the hairs on my arms to stand up and I shiver, my muscles rippling beneath my shirt. I grab
another towel and dry her limbs, all while cursing at her hair dripping water all over. Then I get the idea, well, because I
am Damon Salvatore, and I am a genius.
I create a turban with the towel in my hand, wrapping it on her head neatly but tight enough for it to stay. Her face remains
emotionless, still stained with pink tear tracks. I turn my lips up ever-so-slightly in encouragement, but again, nothing
from the girl. I never feel remorse, but damn this girl knows how to make me feel like a piece of shit.
I lead her back into her bedroom and stop her when we reach the bed. There is an old, oversized t-shirt in one of the
drawers of the dressers. I bring it over to her and move her hand so that she can pinch the towel and prevent it from
falling down. She obeys and I stretch the neck of the shirt over her towel turban, pulling the fabric down over the towel
and thus, covering her like a dress. I gently prod at her hand and she lets go of the towel until it falls around her ankles. I
guide her arms through the sleeves, next coaxing her onto the mattress.
I am completely and utterly exhausted. I haven't slept in what feels like days. Even a new mom with an unruly baby is
getting more rest than me right now. The sun is coming up and shining through the windows already. I had missed my
opportunity to sleep last night, too preoccupied getting myself into deep shit...wait... I mean finding this nice, mute girl
who has been nothing but rainbows and sunshine.
Elena looks just as run down, her eyes struggling to stay open. I lay her down on the bed and pull the sheets over her.
She seems to understand the purpose of a bed and halle-fucking-lujah for that because I don't have the energy to care
any longer. I shut the curtains as best I can, but the room is still lit enough to see everything clearly. I shut the door
almost all the way, leaving it cracked. I can't be sure if she knows what a fucking closed door is. Would she know to turn
the knob and pull? I chuckle to myself before finding the solemn comfort of my own bed.
I jump onto it like a peppy school boy, letting out a warm groan and nuzzling into the pillow. Somehow I get tangled in the
white linens, but I smile, being swaddled like a baby into a deep slumber. Even that surpasses the rewards of a good
fuck. Sleep...sleep...sleep...ah yes.
I groan as I restlessly awaken, unable to stop tossing and turning. I eventually find a comfortable spot, my body teetering
on the edge of the bed with my arm hanging down and brushing the cold floor. When I swallow, my throat feels dry and it
almost burns. I groan softly once more before I force myself to wake up, peeling my eyelid open, only one, like a peeping
crocodile.
And then I nearly fall off the fucking mattress with a jolt. I scramble to stand up, my heart pounding against my ribs.
There...right there, Elena is sitting on the floor beside the bed, just staring at me. Her brown orbs watch me, her lips
turned up in an innocent grin. What the fucking fuck? Instinctively I grab the thin white sheets and cover myself. Why? I
have no idea.
"Elena," I hiss her name, gasping for air and shaking my head in disbelief. "You're supposed to be in your room."
She simply smiles, probably excited that her creepy antics have succeeded. She then brings her fingers up to her lips,
making a thrusting motion toward and away from her mouth. She tilts her head back and I won't tell you what else that
hand gesture looks like. Let me just say, I am embarrassed for her. I have to hold back a cocky (pun certainly intended)
grin that is threatening to crawl onto my face.
Okay, so the girl is hungry. Big whoops! I'm horny...I'm not getting what I want either. Damn, Elena is a greedy little
human. I pull myself reluctantly from the coziness of my oasis, planting my shoes onto the floor. I am still dressed in my
blood-covered, piss-soaked clothes. I reek of death and public restrooms...specifically a sketchy gas station toilet that's
overflowing with shit and dribbled urine from where some drunk asshole missed. I cringe at the thought.
Next, I contemplate whether or not to change now. Elena's looking pretty pushy at the moment, as if those sweet,
innocent hands could reach out at any second and scratch my eyes until they're hollow pits if I stall her eating any longer.
I sigh, reaching down to her place on the floor and taking her hand like a small child, and I lead her downstairs. She
stumbles on some of the steps, obviously still getting used to the idea of stairs.
I immediately seat her at the kitchen table and she seems content. Obviously, she has recovered from my outburst from
earlier that morning, almost as if it hadn't happened at all. No, that's not weird at all. I look at the clock on the microwave
and it's only 3 pm. I'm surprised I was able to sleep that long without an interruption sooner.
I return my eyes to Elena. Her towel turban has disappeared, only long, wavy strands of slightly damp hair falling around
her. I groan before looking into the refrigerator. I see a couple slices of cheese, some condiments, a random blood bag,
and some eggs. I pick up the eggs and they smell fine, probably left by the cleaners when they get hungry or something.
I pull the eggs and cheese out, assembling to make some shitty excuse for scrambled eggs with cheese. The last time I
tried to cook was something like a century ago. Cooking only reminds me of her, but it's not time to discuss the woman I
couldn't save 150 years ago. I shake my head, feeling my throat grow taut and sticky like I hate.
It doesn't take me long to serve up a plate for Elena, setting it in front of her. She looks at it for a moment before pushing
it away. Her face scrunches in disgust. Now, that's something we can both understand. I feel the frustration building. Is
she on a diet? An anorexic? Before I lash out, I grab my cellphone and call Bonnie.
"Bonnie, this girl won't fucking eat," I spit.
"Well, what are you feeding her?" She asks and I can hear how annoyed she feels.
"Scrambled eggs and cheese," I mumble, whilst gripping the counter as an outlet for my anger.
"Like I already told you, Elena can only consume things that are pure-," She begins but I interject rudely.
"How are eggs and cheese not fucking pure? They come from nature," I hiss.
Elena is watching me and I shift uncomfortably. I hate it when she does that.
"Pure food cannot come from cruelty or abuse. If those eggs came from a factory farm, then they were created from
abuse and torture. The same goes for milk, where the cows are injected with drugs, confined like prisoners, and raped
to keep the milk supply up. Meat is definitely out of the question, but so are dairy and eggs."
My face wrinkles in disgust.
"Thanks for that lovely description, Ms. Bennett. I'll definitely sleep better knowing that." I roll my eyes, "So, she's like a
veggie person...what the fuck are they called?"
"A vegan? I guess, except her veggies must come from natural soil with no chemicals or pesticides. She also can
consume eggs if they are truly cruelty free, unlike vegans who abstain from them altogether. You can seriously poison
her if you don't follow that. Elena will know before she eats it, but it is still essential that you provide her with what she
needs."
"So, tell me oh wise nutritionist...what the fuck should I feed her? She's hungry and I stink like shit, so I am not going to
leave right this minute to go get something."
"Try oatmeal made with water. You must have whole oats somewhere in that kitchen."
"And what am I supposed to do to keep her busy? She doesn't understand any human languages," I hum with a smirk.
"I don't know, Damon. You act like I know everything about her. I don't."
"Well come on. Help a guy out. She keeps staring at me."
"Try some silent films or something. While you're buying her food, check out the DVDs and ask someone for
recommendations. Be a big boy, Damon. I'm not going to hold your hand day and night."
"Fine, fine. Now scram and find out more, would you? I can't do this for much longer. She's killing my testosterone and
my pride."
"Then maybe it's for the better," She snorts before hanging up for the umpteenth time.
I jam the phone back into my pant pocket, finding the girl staring at me as always.
"Elena, what am I going to do with you?" I mutter, shaking my head.
And so, I whip up some oatmeal. It looks more like gruel, but hey, I don't have to eat it. I set it down in front of her with a
spoon. I'm surprised when she picks up the utensil and uses it correctly. So, maybe she did come from a civilized place?
She understands how to eat like a normal person. I cross my arms as I watch.
She scarfs the stuff down within minutes and I nearly collapse in relief. She smiles at me with some of it still around her
lips. I laugh, grabbing a napkin and handing it to her. She wipes the remnants away and I smile in approval. I grab her
hand and pull her upstairs again. We need to go out and shop, but I especially need to shower.
I grab some cotton shorts and a belt for Elena to wear until I can buy her some new clothes. I sit her on my bed and hand
her my phone. Although I know she doesn't know what to do with it, I feel it will keep her occupied while I shower and get
dressed. Her eyes grow wide when the screen glows in her palms. I laugh a little, stepping into the bathroom and
shutting the door behind me.
It doesn't take me long from start to finish. I throw on some dark wash jeans and a button down black shirt and then
adjust my raven stained locks with my fingers. When I emerge from the bathroom, Elena is still staring at the glowing
screen, poking at things and watching as the screen changes and moves. Even the sound effects enthrall her into a
hypnotic state. It is quite a scene to spectate.
"Elena," I say sternly and her eyes flick up to meet me.
I walk over and stand her firmly on the flooring so that I can help her get the shorts on. Her oversized t-shirt hides her
body completely as I pull up the shorts and before long, I am tightening the belt to hold the fabric up. She'll have to go
barefoot because I have nothing remotely close to her foot size.
I sigh, grabbing the car keys, my wallet, and Elena's hand. We walk to the car and this time, without protest, she crawls
into the front seat. I show her the seat belt and fasten her in. She looks at me wide eyed, panicked. She thrashes against
the constraints and I growl in impatience. I unbuckle it within seconds until she calms down. I roll my eyes and slam the
door.
I never wear a seatbelt, but hey, she's fragile and my fucking life depends on her. I guess she's not easy to kill or
something like that. It seems like a shady theory. I could easily lean over and snap her neck before she could even
realize what happened.
"Screw it," I hiss and instead take off for the shopping center: My living hell.
There is nothing worse than an overly populated slab of concrete where humans mingle and spend their money on
useless shit. I can barely find a decent parking spot in front of good old Target. Fuck Walmart. Elena needs some nice
clothes if she's going to be seen with me. I still have an ego to nurse. The girl's eyes are wide in shock. She can't believe
how fucking stupid this place is either.
I pull her toward the entrance, where seemingly hundreds of other Americans are shuffling in. I start in the food section,
throwing...well nothing into the cart because I can't fucking find anything that doesn't have eggs or milk in it. Am I
seriously going to have to go to some hippie, crunchy farmer's market where they grow happy fruits and veggies from the
happy dirt that they kissed? Fuck, this is getting worse and worse.
I tug Elena in the direction of the movies since it is closer than the clothing. There are rows and rows of movies. I guess
I'll just have to use my eternally glowing charm to get some help. I find a worker, using my kindest pedestrian face to ask.
I may have exaggerated the acting, but whatever. I'll get what I want one way or another.
"Hello. I'm looking for some silent films or something this girl can watch. She's from an ancient civilization deep in
Mongolia. She doesn't understand a word in English," I say mockingly. I guess that's how I see humans...bubbly and
naive.
The woman smiles understandingly. Her name is 'Martha', the letters spelled out across her little name tag. It's
unfortunate that those uniforms are so modest, so stale and unflattering. I want to rip into her neck so badly. On the way
home, we're going to have to stop somewhere for me to feed. I am hungry as hell.
"Well, we have some old classics that are silent right over here, but she would probably enjoy some Disney movies.
Fantasia is a silent cartoon with Mickey Mouse and we also have Wall-E. That one's more recent. There is seriously like
no dialogue in that movie but it's easy to understand what's going on. All in all, Disney movies are your best bet."
"Thanks." I force a grin, and walk over to the Disney section (yes, the dead man has his own section among the DVDs).
I begin throwing movies into the cart, any that look easy to understand. I smirk when I come across Bambi. Oh, the irony.
I chuck that in with the others before adding Fantasia and Wall-E as the employee had suggested. A weird little robot
cartoon? I roll my eyes. Elena looks confused. She doesn't understand that these plastic rectangles contain a disk that
will produce a moving image. To us, that's unimpressive, but to her, it will be one of the most extraordinary things on
earth.
Not long after, I bring her to the teens' clothing department. At first I let her choose, but she looks too overwhelmed. I
begin to grab shorts and plain cotton tees, but when I hold them up, she shakes her head. I groan, but her hands fumble
with some dresses and she hugs them. So, this girl only wears dresses? Yeahwhat year are we in? Am I going to
have to buy a fucking corset and be the one to tighten it? Damn.
I begin throwing dresses into the cart, making sure they are the smallest size possible. She is tall and skinny beside
me, eyes wide in wonder. She looks disgusting in my oversized shorts with a belt and dress length t-shirt. We need to
get out of here. Next we'll end up on 'Target People' instead of the globally acclaimed 'Walmart People' Facebook page. I
snort to myself and Elena's eyebrows knit together in confusion. There are some cute shoes on a rack and I grab some
Converse, a pair of sneakers, and some sandals.
Embarrassingly enough, we head to the underwear department. I grab one of the 8-pack of cotton bikini style underwear
in some pale shades. Of course, I would have gotten any other woman a nice thong, some mesh panties, and a teddy,
but this girlno way in hell. I don't bother with the bras. Trying to explain its purpose would be too much trouble. I can
already see how that convo would go over. 'Elena, this is a bra. Woman wear them for different reasons. Some don't
want to feel naked, others use it to make their boobs look bigger and thus attract men into sleeping with them, and some
well...some just don't want saggy flaps of skin, you know?'.
Her eyes would then stare expressionlessly at me, not understanding a word and probably calling me a freak in that little
mind of hers. Let's not mention how I would show her how to wear it either. I would never even attempt to model a
woman's bra, not even to teach some poor girl how. My pecs would probably fit nicely into some of those padded cups,
but destroying my pride is too great a tragedy. And I am certainly not going to try to get it on her. I cringe at the humiliation
and unsettling feelings of the thought. Yeah...not happening. She doesn't need a bra.
Lastly, we stop in the personal hygiene aisle. I grab hair brushes, hair ties, a toothbrush, some...um female stuff. My ego
is draining. No, no, no. So sad, so disheartening. I pay at the counter and $350 later, we leave. I am anxious to get her
home and into some decent clothing. Maybe I'll even brush her hair so that she won't look like a drug addict any longer.
But first, I stop at a small gas station. I momentarily leave Elena in the car with the doors locked for her own protection.
I suck some nice man's neck by the ice machine around the back of the building. I am meticulous in my actions, so that
not a drop of blood is spilled. Ruining my nice shirt is not an option. When I'm done, I compel him to forget and I walk
back to the car, wiping my mouth quickly. Luckily the creepy organic farmer's market is just down the road. And yes...it
makes my now full stomach unsettled. Our next stop is full of too much compassion, too much happiness, and too much
humanity; a ruthless vampire's worst nightmare.
Author's Note: I really hope you enjoyed! Please review! It would mean so much to me! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 4*: Chapter 4
Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the feedback and support, everyone!
Also, thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter! xoxo Ren
Crunchy: a word to describe hippies, tree-huggers, free spirits, naturalists and environmentalists. Um, yeah...I can
practically taste the tree bark in my mouth when I look at them. The long, frizzy braids with the clothing made of
something I can only describe as sewn together burlap sacks is just not doing it for me. Elena, on the other hand, is
smiling when they grin at her, reaching her hand out to touch them. I gently slap her finger away before any of them can
put the joint down long enough to notice her curiosity. I'm beginning to consider handing Elena over to them. I nearly
snort at the thought.
"So these things are like from the dirt, untouched, right?" I ask in humiliation, checking my surroundings for any familiar
faces that may recognize me here.
"100% organic. We pulled them out of the ground this morning," A woman with a large gap between her teeth hums.
"I can see that," I mumble with a cringe.
The vegetables are still covered with soil and whatever shit they smothered them in for fertilizer. I begin gathering a
variety of fruits and vegetables, not noticing soon enough that there are long brown streaks on my nice button down shirt.
"Oh shit," I groan, trying to wipe the stuff off.
It is futile. I am only grinding the wet dirt deeper into the fabric and making it worse. I set the produce down, cursing and
moaning my disapproval. Elena's eyes are wide, maybe out of concern or maybe out of confusion. An older gentleman
comes over and I wish he fucking hadn't.
"A little dirt never hurt anyone," He chuckles, slapping me on the back.
"Have you ever had dirt shoved down your lungs?" I hiss, unamused by has lackadaisical attitude. I'm about to shove
some down his.
This shirt costs more than this man probably makes in a year. His response to my harsh remark is far from what I
expect. He simply chuckles, thrusting a hand rolled cigarette into my palm.
"Nothing a puff can't fix." His smile nearly stretches from one ear to the other, almost cartoon-like.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and when I look, a man with an extensive beard holds out a bottle to me.
"We also have a variety of herbal teas and supplements. Maybe some natural male enhancement tea?" He questions.
"Oh I can assure you I don't need that," I smirk, but only through the discomfort I suddenly feel.
"Or how about some-"
"Can I just pay for this. Like I don't know," I chuckle sarcastically, "NOW."
The old man beside me never even reacts to my rudeness. He nods with a smile, walking over to his makeshift cashier
station, or should I say a wooden crate with a shoe box on top, and looks at a sheet of paper with the prices.
"$24.47," He says casually.
"$24 for this?" I ask incredulously, pointing to my sparse selections.
He nods and of course I roll my eyes once again, nearly shoving the money into the man's hand like he had with the
cigarette. I grab Elena's hand, her eyes fixed on the chickens roaming freely in the field. I have a box of their cruelty free
eggs somewhere in the disarray of my hold. My hand is tight around her clammy palm, pulling her back towards my car,
which sticks out like a sore thumb among the rundown Subaru vehicles. Typical, I chuckle to myself. The car jettisons off
down the road before my door is even shut.
I pull into the driveway, throw myself out, only stopping to grab Elena and the bags. She obediently bobs behind me as
we walk into the house with our purchases. I sit her on the same chair in the kitchen and spill out everything I bought
onto the counter. I dig through it for a movie to put on. The stupid cartoon robot? Well, get ready for your Salvatore Theater
debut. I smirk, walking with it to the living room and plopping it into the DVD player.
"Wait. Shit," I swear.
Elena needs to eat and change. I can't stand how grotesque she looks in my clothing. Before long, I am running around
the kitchen, making a mess trying to wash the produce. I steam the kale and the asparagus, throwing the strawberries
into a bowl and cooking up the organic eggs. I immediately notice the difference in the quality. The yolk is a warm orange
color, like a sunset, not the typical pale yellow like the store bought brand. Even the eggshells are colorful, speckled
blues and browns. They are actually really beautiful. I'm thoroughly impressed. Maybe love does make a difference.
Maybe caring people, no matter how weird, make all the difference. These chickens were happy, weren't they? Free to
roam the grassy field day after day, feeling the sun beat down on them as they lived their short lives. No wonder Elena
will only eat these eggs, the result of a good home for the chickens that made them. I feel stupid to even acknowledge
that I care, but it's nice somehow, beautiful, I guess. Haha...okay fuck it. I'm sorry, I can't even hold a straight face saying it
out loud. But I had your attention there for a minute, didn't I? Admit it.
"Here, Elena," I say softly, setting all the food in front of her. "One order of only the purest shit on earth."
She smiles up at me and I know she's thanking me, but still, I scoff. As always, it makes me feel uncomfortable and I pull
my eyes away. She digs in and I head off to my bedroom for a new shirt. I hiss when I see the true damage.
"I'm so sorry, my little friend," I pout, chucking the beloved shirt into the nearest trashcan.
When I return downstairs, she is still eating, now working on the strawberries. There is a red ring around her mouth and
I can tell that the fruits are extremely tart by the way her face contorts when she bites into them. While she is busy eating,
I rummage through the Target bags for an outfit for Elena to wear. Sadly, I struggle to open the fucking underwear
package. Why, just why? Is someone seriously going to try to steal this? The plastic packaging is thick, wired shut with
industrial steel ties. The inventor needs to die: right fucking now.
When I manage to get a rolled up pair of pale pink undies, I throw them in the pile I set aside with a floral knee-length
dress, Converse sneakers, and hair supplies. I grow impatient for some reason, just standing off to the side like a
stalker as I watch her eat. Luckily, she sets down her fork, signaling the end of her food extravaganza. I throw the plates
into the sink. Some other fucker can wash them. I'm tired of leading this girl everywhere, but unfortunately she doesn't
come with a remote controller that I can screw around with. Oh the things I could do with something like that. I would
make her walk into walls and force her to run in circles over and over like any true video gamer would.
I guide her to the middle of the kitchen, grabbing the dress first. I guess it's nearly impossible to avoid seeing her naked
at this point, but even so, I feel like a pedophile. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't resist at all when I pull the old t-shirt over her
head. I may be a total asshole, but I force myself not to look at her bare chest. I can't bring myself to do it. Even my horny
mind can't succumb to the temptation. I throw the dress over her head and bury her in the fabric. Next, I pull it down and
adjust it, smirking in approval. She looks delectable in it, young and youthful.
I then lift each foot, one at a time of course, and slip them into the Converse and tie the laces. When it comes to the
removal of the bulky shorts beneath, I take a deep breath, unbuckling the belt and sliding the fabric down her long,
slender legs. I hear her whimper and I hesitantly look up. She's trying to tell me something. Her hand is over her lower
abdomen and I have to think for a moment. She has to pee. Oh shit.
The liquid begins to dribble down her legs and I nearly scream. Weirdly, the tears down her cheeks resemble the flow of
the urine now leaking between her hips. I grab her in one swift move, and use my vampire speed to pull her into the first
floor bathroom, just beside the staircase. I drop her on the toilet and the echoing sounds of urination against the toilet
water is like music to my ears. Besides having to wipe her down with a warm, soapy washcloth, everything is okay, my
expensive wood floors unscathed.
"Good girl," I praise, closing my eyes in complete relief.
I draw a circle repeatedly on her arm with my index finger, in a way praising her. The symbol is the only way I can think
that she'll truly understand the difference between good and bad. I will draw a harsh X on that same skin when I
disapprove. Seems like a legitimate system. Reminds me of dog training, but buying a dog clicker and clicking it
everytime she does something good seems inhumane. I smile, unable to hold back the humor at the comparison.
I finally pull the baggy shorts around her ankles off, throwing them into the sink as it seems I do with all of my laundering
needs. I then replace them with the new underwear, pulling them up over her butt and making sure they are secure
around her hips. I'm not sure if they had underwear where she came from, but it must be an awkward feeling, especially
for a girl. Fabric hugging that intimate region 24/7 after years of never knowing the feeling: fucking weird. I would,
however, appreciate if she wouldn't react too positively to the point that she smiles eerily at their presence. No time for
sexually directed jokes, though.
When we're all done, I smile encouragingly, drawing the infinite circle on her arm in approval once again, adding a 'good
girl' in there somewhere. She seems to understand the positive intentions of the symbolism. Why would I draw a circle
and not something else to express positive feedback? I have no idea myself. A circle for good and an X for bad seem like
appropriate symbols. I could have drawn a cross or something, but I'm pretty sure that's discriminatory to the religious
community. Then there's the upside down cross, well...well, you're just asking for a one way ticket to Satan's doorstep.
'Postcard from Hell: wish you were here!'
I grab the hair brush and lead her into the living room where the main menu of Wall-E is waiting. Her eyes light up and
she looks at me in disbelief. I nod with a smile and she nears the screen ever so slowly, reaching her fingertips out
hesitantly. She brushes the television lightly and gasps. Her eyes are so captivated by the thing, and I'm literally forcing
myself to be nice. I come up behind her and rest my hand on her shoulder.
"Come on. We'll go sit down and watch it," I tell her.
I am able to coax her to the sofa, where she sits down anxiously. The remote is already in my hand and I press 'play'.
Elena is silent for a moment, but only before the images begin to move. She cries out and nearly jumps off the damn
couch. I grab her arm and sit her back down, drawing a circle on her arm as a reminder that it's okay. But is it seriously
okay that all of this stuff somehow scares her? Hell no. She settles down when the little robot thing rolls across the
screen. The girl beside me is silent from that point on, watching the screen meticulously.
I take the opportunity to brush her ratty looking hair. I haven't brushed it since she arrived. I pull the tool through her brown
hair slowly at first, but grow impatient soon after. I brush through the locks roughly, holding her head as I tear the knots
with the comb thingy. Elena just stares at the TV, unperturbed. I eventually pull the hairy mass into a pathetic excuse for a
ponytail. I groan and start over. The movie has her in a spell and I am fucking happy about that. She looks better, smells
better, and now she even acts better by staying silent like I want.
I hear her giggle suddenly. I haven't heard her laugh like this before and it makes my heart race nervously. She
understands what's happening in the movie, doesn't she? Wow. Plot twist. I smirk for a brief moment, turning my eyes to
the television screen. It may be the only time I will ever let myself actually watch this shit. There's even a fucking love
story: how can robots fall in love with each other? What? Can they make robot babies...is there a setting in their manuals
that allow for reproduction?
Elena smiles through it all. When it ends, her eyes bubble with tears. I offer her another movie, but she keeps pointing to
the robot on the DVD cover. I groan, pressing the restart button. She wipes away her pathetic tears and starts the
process over: amazement, excitement, and then laughter. I hate to admit it, but she's been watching the thing all fucking
day...over and over and, did I mention, fucking over again? After the second time, I have to leave. It is too much. I am
bored and tired and full of raging vampirism.
At around nine, there is a loud, unexplainable boom in the den. It is so powerful that Elena's eyes pull away from her
movie. I run over to the window, knowing that something had slammed against the glass. I look out and sigh in relief.
Just a fucking bird that crashed into one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I'll have to raise my cleaning lady's pay for how
sparklingly clean they are...clean enough to fool this little creep. I roll my eyes at the black raven's dilapidated corpse.
When I turn back to reassure Elena before she has time to panic, she is gone. Seconds later, I hear the back door open.
"Elena," I hiss, chasing after her.
When I catch up, the outdoor lights illuminate the back patio for me to see in the darkness. I see her on the ground,
cradling the bird in her hands.
"Put that fucking bird down, Elena," I shout urgently.
That thing must be crawling with worms and life threatening diseases. I cringe, watching her stroke it like a damn pet. It
is all so sudden. Before I can yank it out of her hands, the bird inexplicably flies away, squawking loudly. The dead
fucking bird just flew away? No way. Elena is smiling, watching the raven soar into the night sky.
"Did you just-" I begin, in a way talking more to myself than to her.
Obviously it wasn't actually dead to begin with, I keep reminding myself. Elena stands up and just looks at me. My eyes
are full of shock and confusion and anger. I grab her arm roughly and bring her back inside. I create the X symbol on her
arm in two harsh strokes.
"Bad," I hiss and she cries out.
The first thing I can think to do next is to wash her nasty hands. I won't let her touch anything with hands like that. My
fingers grab her wrists and manipulate them to settle underneath the flowing water of the kitchen sink. I squirt about five
pumps worth of soap onto her hands and scrub them together repeatedly.
"Don't touch wild animals," I say beside her ear as I wash her, "Bad."
Elena is silently crying, but I don't feel bad about my decision to denounce her behavior. She shouldn't be touching
disease laden animals. It's almost nine at night and I am exhausted. I'm supposed to be at the bar, not being a fucking
au pair. At least children can talk and understand English to a degree. Look at me, I'm beginning to fall apart, beginning
to lose my control over my actions.
I dry her hands on a towel and lead her upstairs. Fuck dinner. I might as well be dragging her up the stairs. My hand is
ruthlessly gripping her arm as I walk up, feeling her stumble every alternate moment. I no longer care because I
shouldn't. Caring is a fucked up concept. Elena should learn quickly that I have no patience and that I will not hesitate to
make it known. She just won't stop fucking crying and my ears begin to ring in distress.
I throw her, maybe too harshly, onto the bed, pulling off her dress in one move. I turn to grab one of her new nightgowns
and ignore the endless cries of the girl. I'm not gentle, not even for a moment, when I turn back. I grab one of her wrists
and hold her so that I can get the fabric over her head. She is screaming, but it only infuriates me more. I roughly jam her
arms into the sleeves before taking off her shoes.
"Go to sleep," I growl, stuffing her like a doll beneath the covers.
When I slam the door shut, I feel like the entire house is shaking. Oh but those sweet vibrations feel fucking good. They
remind me that I need sex, good hot sex with a bottle of bourbon on top. I need to let my true nature run wild. It shouldn't
be tamed every hour of every day, not like a beast. I am not a beast, I am Damon fucking Salvatore.
The crying didn't stop. Not at 12am, 1am or even 2am.
"Faster," I hiss.
My hands are gripping her hips, digging my nails into her flesh. I close my eyes, enjoying how she's riding me like a
cowgirl on a wild bull. She's so tight, squeezing my throbbing cock with ultimate vitality. Between my moans, the cries
echo through the walls around us. I drown it out, attacking her neck with my lips.
"Are you sure she's okay?" The blonde girl heaves between fucks.
"Shut up and fuck harder," I growl, grinding myself deeper inside her.
I rip my fangs into neck, sucking and fucking simultaneously. The fuse of pleasure and satisfaction is so strong that I am
barely holding on. I lose it, and growl my release beside her ear. I heave for a moment before throwing the girl off of me.
She crashes to the floor with a thud.
"You asshole. I didn't even come," She screams at me.
"Get your stuff and get the fuck out." I stand up, taking a long swig of bourbon and grabbing my boxers.
The whore picks up her stuff, flipping me off as she leaves. Elena is still crying her fucking lungs out down the hall. I
throw my shorts on and head down there finally. I feel better, but my head is pounding from the endless background
noise. She better have a good fucking excuse. I open the door and walk in.
The girl is lying beneath the sheets as I had left her, but her face is red like a tomato, streaked with sloppy, wet tears. Her
cries die down when I look at her. She sits up and whimpers instead. I pull the sheets away and of fucking course...she
wet the fucking bed. I'm too tired to react. In my mind I am ripping her apart, but on the outside, I can only manage a sigh.
I squat beside her on the bed and gently rub her arm. Being mean to her isn't getting me anywhere. She looks at me and
I force the corners of my lips up. She sniffles, but stops crying immediately. I draw the circle on her skin and she nods a
little in compliance.
"It's okay," I say softly, standing up and helping her out of the soaked sheets.
With her hand in mine, I bring her to the bathroom and leave her so that I can change the bedding. I do it all robotically,
not speaking or whining or complaining. I'm just so sleepy that I'm like a zombie as I peel the dirty sheets off the
mattress. It doesn't take long for me to do my best to make the bed look presentable. I throw the pee-soaked bedding
over the railing in the hallway and hope that that blonde harlot is standing right underneath it when it plummets to the first
floor.
I drag my legs back to the bathroom, but I pause in the doorway. Elena is looking into the mirror, touching it in wonder.
Yet another new discovery, I guess. She touches her face, moving her fingers along her cheeks, her collarbone, and
even her lips, watching how they move in the reflection. As lovely as it is to watch her so infatuated with herself, I can't
help wondering how awkward this could get if she continues. Watching a masturbation spectacle is too erotic, even for
my taste.
"Elena," I beckon with a dull smile.
She turns to look at me, staring me straight in the eyes. I widen my grin to show her not to be afraid, and even though
she seems hesitant, she doesn't back away. I look into her eyes as I pull the nightgown over her head, my ears enjoying
the silence of no crying.
"Good girl," I whisper, keeping my blue orbs fixed on her.
Even when I pull her soaked undies down, I look at her eyes. I stand back up and for some reason I am frozen. I'm
unsure what to do next...use a washcloth, plop her in the tub, or maybe just leave it until morning. All I know is that her
gaze is so intense that it paralyzes me in this moment.
"I'm-I'm going to clean you up," I stammer, finally tearing my eyes away.
I fill the bathtub only about an inch so that it covers the base of the structure before helping her in. I grab some soap and
dispense it onto a washcloth as I had done previously. My hand nervously holds it, leading it down to her body. I look
away when I finally find the will to do it. I wash between her legs, her butt and the backs of her thighs. I rinse her and then
help her out.
The towel I wrap around her is warm and soft in the midst of her shivering. I return to her room briefly to grab a new
nightgown. I am hasty in my actions, arriving back to the girl within a half of a minute. She understands quickly and
actually helps me to put it on. She slides her limbs through the slots and waits for me to pull the dress down. It's
awkward thereafter, the house silent and the two of us just standing there in the dead of night.
But before I can even react, her twig-like arms wrap around me. She hugs me to her, holding me as if I am going to
disappear into oblivion. Her embrace is firm and warm, and I just stand there in complete shock. I don't know where to
even put my arms, so I keep them at my sides, simply staring down at her head on my chest. And for fuck's sake, I can't
even come up with a condescending remark in this moment. Do you hear that sound in the distance? Well, do you?
That's the sound of my pride draining from my body.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! As for the beginning with the organic farms...Damon was just being an asshole. I
100% support organic farming and the way the 'crunchy' people live. I am surrounded by many of them in my community
and they are amazing people. They truly have compassion and love for what they do and it makes all the difference. I buy
all of my eggs and produce from them. The stereotypes I brought up are silly, but Damon Salvatore would never openly
admit to accepting their way of life.
Oh and want a hint about Elena? Think: Pocahontas's story
P.S. She isn't a baby inside that body...she's the age she's supposed to be. More to come on that! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 5*: Chapter 5
Author's Note: Thank you to my beta, LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter!
*I recommend having the song 'You Are My Sunshine'-Patrick Dansereau Cover ready in another tab for one of the
later scenes of the chapter. That version is how I imagine it sounding, but if you already know the tune, it should not
be a problem! You'll know when to play it! Enjoy!*
I force Elena to go outside. She has spent all morning watching movies in the den, completely absorbed by them. My
house sounded like the fucking Sound of Music, catchy tunes blaring loudly wherever I went. And hiding away from it was
the easy part, but keeping my breakfast quiet was another story. I eventually resorted to a mix between compulsion and
neck snapping because the little human fucker wouldn't stop squealing, no matter what I tried.
We have been sitting in the yard for a while now and even I am growing bored. I look over and she's playing in the grass,
picking at some small critters. I sigh for the millionth fucking time. All I want is my freedom back, the freedom to spend
my days at the bar or making some innocent human suffer under my control. Not this. Stir crazy cannot even begin to
describe how trapped I feel in my own home. This temporary arrangement better be fucking temporary.
"Hey Elena," I finally say.
She looks up at me with those does eyes, wide and pathetic as always, pulling them away from whatever freakiness she
has been a participant of. Maybe behind those brown orbs is a malicious young girl plotting how to kill me in a variety of
gruesome ways. Sometimes her innocence is almost too potent that it's suspicious. Weird isn't it? How being the
epitome of anything can result in the complete opposite of its intent. If you're too good of anything, people automatically
assume something is wrong. All I know is, she better not be a fucking serial killer trained in the deserts of Uganda to
mutilate vampires, only after making their victims feel all warm and fuzzy inside, of course.
We walk into the house together and her skinny little legs are already directing themselves toward the den. I grab her
wrist in an instant, shaking my head. Why I fucking care if the girl wants to spend all day wasting perfectly good brain
cells is beyond me, but it feels wrong somehow. Then out of nowhere, an idea comes to me. I can leave the house, I can
have a life. This television will keep her occupied, out of trouble for at least a few hours at a time. How long could a blow
job and a few drinks take?
All I have to do is feed, hydrate, urinate, and destink her before I leave. Well, Damon Salvatore, I must say that you my
friend are a genius. I smile, finally regaining some of that lost enthusiasm about my situation. I sit her in the kitchen,
preparing her lunch in the meantime. I even hum a little tune here and there. The taste of liberty is so sweet against my
lips. I rush to steam the vegetables, whipping up some of that gruel-like oatmeal. Then, I smell something burning.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I scream, shutting off the burner.
I burn my hand trying to get the pot away from the heat, repeating that four letter word over and over. I don't really hear her
at first, my cursing the only thing to really register. But then I realize, I'm not the one saying it anymore. It's a feminine
voice, it's Elena's. I zip around to look at her. Her lips are moving, belting out the words.
"Foo-uck," She smiles, obviously proud of her work.
And so her first English word, ladies and gentlemen, was 'fuck'. Yes, out of the thousands of words in the English
language, she chose that. Well, it's not like I don't say it enough around here. I stand there for a good minute, mouth ajar,
just staring in wonder. Holy shit...she spoke. Now, whether to praise her or not. 'Fuck' is a bad word, but she's learning
English, so how can I tell her she's bad for saying it?
I step over to her with a smile, taking her hand in my mine and squatting beside her chair.
"No, no, no," I begin, shaking my head, "Damon."
I change the word for her, not encouraging the word 'fuck', but not criticizing her desire to communicate. I point to myself,
repeating it for her so that she can watch how my lips move to form the word. Her grin grows wide and she tries to mimic
me. She likes the attention I'm giving her, understanding quickly that I want her to try it out.
"Day-mond," She finally says with a thick accent.
Hey, close enough. I've had drunk women fail more miserably at attempting my name.
"Good girl," I exclaim, drawing our trademark circle of 'good girlness' on her arm.
"Day-mond," She repeats, squeezing my hand in utter satisfaction.
I then point to her and say her name, drawing out each syllable. I don't even to finish the last sound of her name before
she shouts it. She knows it, obviously. I roll my eyes a little, but as far as Elena knows, it is the best moment ever. Her
accent is thick, whatever it is. The night she found me...wait, found me? Sounds too weird. The night this crazy person
collapsed psychotically against me, she had muttered something in a language I did not recognize.
I don't know why I doubted that Elena could speak, but for a while there, I was convinced her voice box had snapped or
something from the trauma. Sounds stupid, but nothing surprises me anymore with her. She wraps her arms around
me, but I'm really not as vulnerable as I was last night. I pry her hands off of me, still smiling and hiding the fact that I hate
it. Hugs? No, too cutesy. At least I know what to buy her next...a little Rosetta Stone demo DVD or something. Nah...even
Rosetta doesn't have her native language on there.
Elena's best bet would be some nice children's alphabet videos. Teaching someone English that doesn't have a basis
of any known language requires something simpler. Oh fuck it, explaining this to you is too much work. I'm going to try to
teach her and that is all you need to know. Not today, though. Today is my day to be free of any responsibility. This
parenting thing is great and all, but getting rough on the dance floor sounds magical right now.
I walk back over to the stove and start another round of oatmeal. It doesn't take too long and soon enough, the food is
being eaten. I'm too busy changing my clothes and grabbing the car keys to notice that she loves her food. Damon
Salvatore's five star dining experience: coming to a city near you. I scoff, throwing some of the dirty pots into the sink.
When she finally finishes, she wipes her mouth and waits for me to direct her.
My hand tugs her to the den. When the DVD player fucking broke this morning, I was forced to actually read the manual.
Somehow I managed to fix it, but during that little exercise, I found out you can program a DVD to be replayed on the
machine. Of course I was eager to try it out. I would no longer have to manually restart Wall-E every time the damn thing
ended. It looks like my small outing just turned into an all-day adventure.
I could get home around dinner time and she would still be watching the movie, maybe for the third time, but still
watching it all the same. I sit her down on the sofa, grab a blanket and drape her with it, before grabbing her a glass of
water. Her eyes are unsurprisingly glued to the screen and so I leave. I hop into my car and drive off into the beautiful day.
Tell me again why I'm amazing...nah...I already know.
I'm surprised how packed the club is in the middle of the day. Must be a holiday or something. Not even two drinks in and
I am being swarmed by plenty of hot women. The place is dark and loud, just how every club should be for a vampire to
do whatever the fuck he pleases. The lap dances just keep coming, girls throwing themselves on me. I drain blood here
and there, but they're too drunk to notice. Then there is the DJ who is playing what is supposedly called music, though it
would be a disgrace to the real artist if I called a song made up of one fucking line a 'piece of music'. Still, it is certainly
better than those lame songs from my time. It's sin city, baby, and let me tell you, I enjoy it.
One girl is groping my manhood, another unbuttoning my shirt, and the music is just pounding in my eardrums to a
suitable beat. It is blazing hot in that place, body heat radiating from the seemingly dense room. The dark brunette next to
me is moist with sweat, grinding herself against me with a suggestive grin. She tugs at my hand and pleads with me to
dance. I finally give in for some reason.
My shirt is hanging open, my toned abdomen out in the open for everyone to see. The girl I'm dancing with doesn't seem
to mind, licking my chest with her tongue, and gyrating her hips on my cock. There should be a sign hanging off of it
saying, 'Warning: hard when wet.' Damn, there might as well be no clothing between us because I can feel everything so
well already. She sets her lips next to my ear, presently cupping me.
"Let's get arrested," She hums and my brows furrow in confusion.
I look down and she's kneeling on the dance floor, unbuttoning my pants. So she wants to get arrested by assaulting my
cock in public? This girl has some high aspirations for herself. Of course I want her to do it, I can already feel her warm
lips, but something is eating away at me. Guilt. What if Elena is peeing on my carpet or something? What if she thinks I
died? Oh well...She's fine, I tell myself again. I close my eyes instead and let the pleasure consume me.
My legs stumble to the car around four O'Clock. I know I can't leave Elena home alone forever, but damn it was so nice to
get away. I feel alive again, cockier than ever. The ride home is long because of the fucking road construction going on. I
can't get around any of the cars and I curse in frustration as I wait. There are times in my life where compulsion does not
work and I'm not pleased. Meanwhile, I lick the blood in the corner of my mouth and think about life instead. For some
reason the horrible thought that I may have to take care of Elena for another five years or some long period of time
scares me. Choosing between five years in prison or five years with a freaky human girl? I'm ready for my orange
jumpsuit, thank you.
Somehow I manage to get through the fucking traffic and into the driveway. I yawn a little whilst adjusting the crotch of my
pants which is crooked and hugs my precious gemstones awkwardly. When I look up at the door, it's wide open. The
panic sets in almost instantly. Oh fuck. My legs bolt through the opening within seconds and into the den area. The room
is a mess, books and miscellaneous crap scattered all around.
"Elena," I yell, eyes searching everywhere.
"Day-mond." I hear her whisper it.
My head turns toward the direction of the sound. She is curled up against one of the long windows, trembling. My voice is
shaking and my heart thumping against my ribs methodically. I am in front of her within seconds, holding her face in my
hands.
"I-I'm so, so sorry," I repeat again and again.
Strangely, her eyes grow wide and she pushes me to the side. I don't understand until I turn around. Two men are
running right for her. Elena lifts her hands up in front of her, closing her eyes, soon after. Seconds pass and one of the
men holds a gun pointed right at her. I scramble to move myself into the path of the bullet. Only one of us can survive
this. The bullet moves through the air so quickly, that I scream.
I'm sure it's buried in her skull by now. I force myself to look, but the bullet hasn't even touched her. I blink again and
again. It is hovering in front of her, just inches from her face. It floats for only a few seconds before crashing to the wood
floor with a clank. How the fuck?
Before I can even react, she thrusts her hands toward the invaders and simultaneously, their bodies pin themselves
against the wall behind them. Her eyes are leaking endless tears and I finally force myself to move toward them. Elena
can't kill them, she is too pure, just like Bonnie had told me, but I am the farthest thing from pure, so fuck it. My hands are
around the fuckers' necks, and I snap them both in an instant. Their bodies don't crash to the floor, though. Elena is still
holding them there with her...I guess, her mind? Her telekinesis?
I run over to her and she grabs me with so much force that my lungs wheeze for a moment. I pull her right to my body,
one of her legs dangling on either side of me. Our chests are pressed together and her face is sobbing into the column
of my neck. My body is shaking and all I can do is wrap my arms around her and apologize over and over.
"Elena, I'm so sorry." My voice breaks with the raw fucking emotion.
I have never felt anything, not in so long, but this feeling is powerful. It's guilt and remorse and relief all thrown into one. I
fucking left her alone. She almost died because of me, because of my selfishness. I squeeze her harder in my hold,
stroking her hair as I beg for her forgiveness.
"You're a good girl. I'm sorry," I whisper and she just sobs more.
We sit there like that for a long time and I hold her. Wall-E is on in the background. If a robot could flip someone off, he
would be giving me the middle finger on both robotic hands right now. Who could look at me in this moment and not call
me a heartless monster? I did this to her. Fuck the fact that she can move things with her mind. Fuck it. All that matters
right now is that she is okay. The guilt hurts, it burns more than vervain...and that shit burns.
Those men must be werewolves. I look up at their pinned bodies, listening for heartbeats. There are two. Great. I pick
Elena up and carry her to the sofa. She buries herself into the blanket, luckily, and I take the time to rip the hearts from
the two men, to make sure they're really gone forever. No one will hurt Elena, no one. I'm quiet about removing the
organs, making sure Elena isn't watching when I tear each one out.
Time passes and without much thought, I sit on the couch with her and we watch Wall-E together. She's curled up in my
lap, silent as always. I brought her to the bathroom while I removed the bodies and cleaned the room up, but she's not
stupid...she knew what I was doing. It's getting late now and the sun has almost completely disappeared from the sky,
but I owe it to her to keep my mouth shut and just watch the fucking movie. I owe her a lot, don't I?
When the credits begin to scroll on the television, she sits up and looks at me, right in the eyes. They show no anger, no
tension, but they pull away just as quickly as they find me. It breaks me a little inside, I'll admit it. She gets up from the
sofa and walks toward the kitchen. I follow her, waiting to feel a trip wire against my ankle, maybe trigger a series of 'fuck
you, Damon' bombs filled with vervain. That's what I want at this point, punishment for my stupidity.
Elena is sitting with her head down on the kitchen table when I walk in. She's traumatized, I can tell. Being home alone
and forced to fend for your life is probably not the best experience. How long had those men been there before I arrived?
Had she fought for long? What if she had spent hours keeping the men at a distance, shoving them away whenever they
took a step toward her?
I quietly make her something to eat: an omelet with lots of veggies thrown in. I serve it up, grabbing two plates. Eating
dinner with her will not fix anything, but it is a start. I pull the chair out next to her and sit down with the food in my hands. I
do not expect it, but I feel her hand wriggle its way into my palm, entwining her bony fingers with mine.
"Elena," I whisper. "Please eat."
Maybe she understands, maybe she does not, but she lifts her head anyway and looks at me, curving her lips up ever-
so-slightly. I smile back, stuffing some of the omelet into my mouth. That makes her happy, happy to see me eat with
her, right beside her. She probably wants the company and the security that comes with it, as would most people. My
eyes stare at my plate for a while, listening to Elena pick up her fork. Good, she's at least eating.
I'm even happier that we are eating together. And I guess I'm ecstatic that she is smiling and eating and breathing. It is a
relief not to be a dick every moment of every day. I need to take care of her, I need to protect her. Maybe it took a scare to
set me straight, but now I know at least. I will not, however, tell you that I care about her. It's different, I don't care about
anyone. Caring can be confused with empathy, something a vampire just does not have. Maybe I am attached to her to a
degree? But I refuse to let myself get attached to her, even though I have already, haven't I? Fuck.
It is getting late and I can see just how tired she is while we watch Fantasia. Finally, a change in rhythm with the whole
movie selection debate. She's struggling to hold her eyes open and well, so am I. My hand reaches for the remote and
Elena doesn't stop me for once. I smile and we walk upstairs together. I make sure the lights are off on the way before
locking all the doors. If those werewolves think they can have her, then they're in for a fucking surprise.
I first help her change into her nightgown and then we go into the bathroom where I brush her hair, being gentle
whenever I come across a knot. I'm scared to hurt her more than she already has been. I'll admit that brushing her teeth
for her, on the other hand, is awkward, well, because jamming a toothbrush into someone's mouth is fucking awkward.
Her mouth is foaming with white bubbles, dribbling onto the counter and then my shirt. She doesn't know how to keep it
inside the confines of her lips and as frustrating as it is, I am tired and guilty as fuck about earlier, so I let that girl drool
toothpaste all over me, as much as she wants.
I get her to spit it out and rinse. I'm somehow convinced that she has watched me brush my teeth before in my own
bathroom. She understands everything I ask of her, not that I'm doubting that dental hygiene wasn't an important concept
where she came from, but it's definitely suspicious. I wipe her mouth like a small child and offer her the toilet...no not like
that. I leave the room to let her do whatever teenage girls do on the toilet. After, I help her into bed and make sure she is
comfortable before turning for the door.
"Goodnight, Elena," I say softly, leaving the door open so that the hallway light illuminates the dark room enough for her
to feel safe.
It is too cloudy in the night sky to see the moon when I look out the window of my bathroom. I shrug my shoulders and
change into some cotton shorts, brush my teeth, and then finally wash my face with cold water, maybe to wash away the
guilt. I nearly crawl onto the mattress, turning off the lamp and almost instantaneously slipping into unconsciousness.
It's a strange feeling when you're halfway between being awake and asleep. You swear you don't know what things are
real and which aren't. You hear voices, see people that are deader than a doornail having conversations with you. I
swear I see her, the same long hair in the shadows of my room. She's standing there beside the bed, looking at me. It's
her, isn't it? She's alive or I'm dead...wait, am I?
"Day-mond," She whispers, but there's an accent.
She never had an accent, not like that. I think I mumble her name a few times, wanting so badly to reach out and hug her.
But I have to be dreaming, and I know I am because when the girl's fingers finally reach out to touch me, I wake up,
pulled back into reality.
It's just Elena, not my Sybil. I stare at her in the blackness for a few moments, still reeling from how real it had all felt. I
roll over to make room for Elena on the mattress, gulping for air. She climbs in and when she lays beside me, I can feel
how badly she is trembling.
"Elena, it's okay," I say softly.
She begins to cry, and I know she's scared of those men trying to hurt her. I hold her cheek in my hand and stroke it
gently with the pad of my thumb. Her warm hands are resting on the contours of my shoulderblades, and I hush her
when her nails begin to scrape harder into my flesh. Her cries get louder and she is shaking more and more, as if she
thinks she is going to die at any second. I don't even know what to do to help her. This girl should feel fucking special
because I never, ever, ever sing. Not ever.
I start out humming the tune of 'You Are My Sunshine.' I do it right beside her ear and within seconds, her grip loosens
slightly. I had heard the song once, back in the 1940s. I guess it kind of stuck with me, even though I'm pretty sure I
ripped someone's throat out as it played in the background, but I'll keep that piece to myself. The lyrics are beautiful, like
a lullaby, you could say.
And so the two of us are just lying there in the darkness of my bed while I sing. My voice is soft and I mumble over the
lyrics I have forgotten over the years. Elena watches my lips, touching them with her fingers.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine" I hum in a warm tone, "...You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll
never know dear how much Ilike... you. Please don't take my sunshine away."
I couldn't say the word 'love', not in front of Elena. Fucking lyrics. Making me say things I don't mean. I don't love anyone,
not anymore. Never again for that matter. I believe in life there is only so much room in a person's heart for other people,
and that it is possible for one person to occupy the entire thing. It's rare, but I've felt it, what it's like to run out of room in
your heart for anyone else, even after they're gone for good. Not that it matters anymore, when you're a vampire, you have
no heart, no room for love.
Elena's cries die down soon enough, only after a few verses, until the sobs are replaced with rhythmic breaths. She had
fallen asleep against my chest somewhere in the middle of the song. I smile, wiping the remnants of her tears away and
pulling the sheets around her. She's beautiful when she sleeps. I knew a girl once that slept like that on me. She was
beautiful just like Elena. That was a long time ago when God did take my sunshine away. I hadn't dreamed about her in
ages, maybe fifty-something years. I begin to sing the song again, not for Elena this time, but for that beautiful angel up
in heaven, for my Sybil.
"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms," I sing softly, "When I awoke dear, I was
mistaken and I hung my head and I cried..."
I fall asleep sometime later, listening to the peaceful melody of Elena's heart beating. Thud, thud, thud. I do not even
dream, I just sleep, in something I imagine a comatose state to be like. It is all so pleasant until the ringing of a cell
phone wakes us both right up, breaking the solemn time. Elena nearly jumps off the mattress, but when she realizes I
am there, she just hugs me closer, whimpering. I pick up the damn thing and answer.
"Bonnie Fucking Bennett-" I begin.
"Damon, check channel 7. I think I know where Elena came from," Bonnie says breathlessly and what is left of my heart
nearly jumps out of me.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed!
Chapter Recap:
1) Elena's first English word is 'fuck'
2) Damon leaves Elena home alone
3) Damon discovers Elena has telekinesis
5) We learn a little more about Damon's girl, Sybil (now that she has a name) Name Pronunciation: sibble or (si-bull)
6) Damon can sing (okay maybe not necessarily well, but I wouldn't mind falling asleep to it)
7) Bonnie knows more about Elena
'You Are My Sunshine' is a pretty well-known song! I grew up listening to it! The lyrics pretty much say it all!
Thank you so much for all the support! Your words truly inspire me! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 6*: Chapter 6
Author's Note: Thank you to LiveBreathVampires for editing this chapter! xoxo Ren
My hands dig into the bed-side table within seconds, scrambling for the damn remote. Elena is still clinging to me like a
monkey, and she seems alarmed and confused. She looks at me for instruction, but I am too fucking busy to speak. My
fingers nearly tremble when I finally point the thing in the direction of the television. I decide that some light would be
good and so I quickly switch the lamp on. Finally when I look up, a hot-ass reporter appears on the screen, and boy, is
she fuckable. I nearly growl in approval.
"Authorities have confirmed the reports of a supposedly abandoned tribe seven miles into the Mystic Falls Forest. It is
believed that a gruesome slaughter had taken place there weeks before, possibly from a bear attack. Most concerning to
the police in this investigation is the mystery behind the people who were living there. No bodies have yet been
recovered from the scene and even more bizarre, it appears the members may not have spoken English and possibly
abstained from any modern conveniences. This is Stephanie McDonald for Mystic Falls' Local News."
Holy shit. I feel my breathing hitch and my hand immediately snatches the phone before I press it up to my ear in some
form of panic.
"Bonnie," I begin, "W-What the fuck?"
The whole illegal village settlement is just too 'not weird'...if that makes any fucking sense. Elena is just a girl who
happened to be raised away from civilization? That's it? There's no magic spell making English sound like gibberish to
her? She's not a two year old child inside that mind or some alien from an intergalactic world? She's just some fuck-our-
government-let's-build-a-tribe human?
"Elena may be the only survivor, but it all makes sense. Same timing, same location, same circumstances. I-I really don't
know, though. Maybe they were trying to hide Elena or protect her from something." Bonnie's voice is higher than usual,
more excited.
"You expect me to believe that she ran seven miles and still looked immaculate?"
Let's be fucking real here. I roll my eyes, hoping they get stuck like that.
"Damon, stop being an asshole, seriously," Bonnie whines.
I am not being an asshole, am I? Just because I question the legitimacy of things? Elena's feet weren't even scratched
that night of the full moon and she had been fucking barefoot. Before I make Bonnie hang up on me, I quickly fuck the
idea and move on to another interesting concept.
"So with the whole talking thing-" I start out.
"She was just taught a different language. If I dropped you off in the Amazon rainforest and expected you to be able to live
with those native people, you would look stupid to them. They cannot speak your language, but you cannot speak theirs
either, so it's extremely difficult to communicate. Not to mention their culture and way of life is completely unlike yours.
For Elena, your way of living is unique."
"Because we have some badass technology, right? And of course...me."
"Yes to the first part only," She scoffs cruelly, "That means that her curiosity with certain things does not make her weird,
Damon. She's not a child, she's a curious teenage girl who just so happens to live in a world where no one can
understand her. How can she not be afraid when she can't speak up?"
"Aw, you sound like a 'creepy tribe' advocate. Are you accepting volunteers?"
"Damon," She hisses, "I'm going to transport you to a place where no one can understand what you're saying and see
how you feel."
She actually sounds kind of serious. For a brief moment, I swallow thickly in fear.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Miss Judgy. You go right ahead and do that. I have some toilet training to work on," I complain,
thinking about the bathroom situation in the village.
Was it a fucking hole in the ground? 'Simply squat above this shit-filled void and let it all drop'. Do you have to sign up
when you want a new hole dug? Are they customizable? Now there's something. I would like a hole no deeper than 13
feet, please, with a railing for stability and a blood machine so that I can drink as I piss. Sounds fine with me.
"Just try to be nice to her, would you? I'll call when I learn more."
"Yes, mother dearest." I hang up with a yawn.
It's strange how relieving it is to finally know where Elena is from, yet I suddenly miss the mystery of not knowing. There's
no more suspense or thrill in making wild guesses. The girl is just a girl, one with telekinesis and weird fetishes, but a
human girl nonetheless. What a relief.
I don't know how, but Elena has already fallen back to sleep on my chest. I guess we bored her to sleep. I chuckle to
myself softly, turning out the lamp and waiting for sleep to take me, too.
"Let's go, sleepyhead," I whisper, waking Elena up and prodding her shoulder.
She groans a little, but opens her eyes to look at me. I scoop her up in my arms and pull her from the sheets. My legs tug
me toward the bathroom, where I set her on her own feet and help her not to tumble down to the unforgiving tile. She is
such a drama queen, exaggerating the struggle of standing. Mmmhteenage girl all right!
I suddenly notice my Playboy magazine collection, and as you can guess, I get the fuck out of there. Elena does not see
them, or at least, I hope not. I do not really want her copying those sexual positions and walking around naked like it is
normal. I'm sorry I enjoy looking at breasts when I urinate...don't judge me. My fingers tug her down the hall to her own
attached bathroom, a much safer choice.
At least her clothes are here and of course her hairbrush and such. It's strange how fucking tired I feel. It is as if my arms
do not want to comply with my demands today. I begin brushing her hair in the mirror, being stalked by her lust filled
eyes, like I'm a big, juicy sirloin steak. Why does she have to look at me like that? Does she enjoy making me feel
uncomfortable?
I eventually pull her locks into a high ponytail, a much more successful attempt than my previous endeavors. It actually
looks pretty decent. She smiles at me and I force myself to grin back.
"Day-mond. Elena," She says softly. "Day-Lena."
Okay? Not weird at all. Two of the only English words she knows and she decides it would be impressive to smoosh
them together. Congrats. I roll my eyes. I'm just not in the mood today for monumental achievements. Instead, I grab a
dress out of her closet, bringing it back to the bathroom, and handing it to her. She understands the dressing process by
now, right? How many times have I done it for her? If she is truly a teenage girl in that body, this should be a simple
concept.
"Elena," I begin, pointing to the dress, "Put this on."
I turn and leave, shutting the door behind me. I pause outside the door frame and look around. First, I notice a stream of
sunlight leaking into the space and my eyes follow its path. Then I pass the time by pacing her bedroom, considering
breakfast choices for a while. But my brain shifts over to recalling Bonnie's discovery last night. The fucking thought of
Elena losing her family and all she had ever known in that forest is eating away at me. Is she just as lonely as I am? Is
she a lost and broken soul? I push away the consideration immediately. I don't need another reason to pity her, not now.
I walk back to the bathroom and open the door slowly. Of. Fucking. Course. She's just sitting naked on the floor, her back
turned toward me, sniffling. I groan in frustration, snatching the dress in my grip. Somewhere in my anger, I say her
name and she turns to look at me. I force myself to take a deep breath. She's just confused. She didn't understand what
you wanted. My arms wrap under her arms and they pull her to a standing position.
Elena turns around and the tears are threatening to escape her ducts. I gently cup her cheek in my hand and take
another deep breath. My face softens and I smile slightly. Those eyes of hers jam guilt right down my throat, and make it
impossible for me to be angry. She's definitely an expert in that field. Before long, I am helping her into the dress, making
sure to zip up the back without getting her long ponytail caught. When I'm finished, we walk back into her room. She
stands there for a little while, waiting for me.
I'm scared to leave her alone after yesterday, so I take her back to my bedroom so that I can change in the comfort of my
own bathroom, surrounded by the images of sexy nude women. I sit her in the oversized leather chair in the corner
before crawling into the adjoining room where I can shower and dress. Elena seems pretty content when I leave her, her
eyes curiously examining the chair. I strip first and then admire my manhood in the mirror for a brief moment. I still look
fucking amazing, even after 150 years. Pretty good for an old man.
When I step into the shower, the tile is cold against my feet and I groan until the sudden rush of water from the nozzle
sizzles against my flesh. Normally an hour shower would be an acceptable amount of time to be diligently wasting away,
but with Elena nearing 'feeding' time, it seems that that dream will have to wait another day. The soap suds slide down
my body until I am completely rinsed and my sweet gems are squeaky clean.
Then, I step out and throw on some jeans, along with a grey cotton tee. My hands towel-dry my hair once more, making
sure that my beautiful locks are pristine. I finally finish up and I casually step out into my bedroom. Elena is sifting
through the bottom drawer of my side table. I smile for a second until I remember what is in that drawer. I scramble
toward her in horror.
"Elena don't touch that," I growl in panic.
She's holding a picture frame in her hand, a vintage hairbow on the floor beside her. My blood pumps vigorously, and I
feel my throat squeeze in anger. She is not fucking touching that stuff, is she? Before I can even think, my fingers grip her
ponytail and yank so hard that she falls backward until her skull crashes against the wood flooring. The sound is loud
and heavy, but I am in such a state of fury, that it doesn't even matter.
"I fucking said not to touch it," I bark, ripping the picture frame from her hands.
Elena is screaming and crying and panicking, but I just can't calm down...not with this. I could never forgive her if she
broke those irreplaceable momentos. She had no right to touch them, no fucking right. Within seconds, I take Elena's
wrist between my fingers and drag her to the hallway, slamming the door of my bedroom and locking myself inside. At
this point, I am too livid to give a fuck about how she feels. Elena crossed a line. I stare at the grainy photograph,
brushing my fingertips over Sybil's beautiful face.
I grab my hidden stash of liquor, taking the entire bottle into my hand and chugging. My throat is so tight that I can barely
breathe, not that the alcohol makes it feel any better. I plop myself down, the leather chair encompassing my body and
hugging me. I lean harder against the back of it, while my nails try to scrape into the leather. My brain forces me to curl
them to try to protect myself from harming my beloved furniture. There are plenty of things in life that pull us apart, that
break us, even vampires. I was once human, remember that. I came into this world pure and good and innocent. I was
full of humanity and compassion and love. No one is born a monster, no one.
I whip out my cellphone and my trembling fingers text Bonnie.
D: Find another vampire. I am done with her.
I push a hand through my dark raven locks, still damp with water. The trauma hurts. I hurt all over for that matter. Why is
this happening to me? Is the pain the result of my heart growing or is it from the emotion finally poisoning my once
emotionless bloodstream? The phone chimes and I look at it.
B: Are you sure? Damon, come on.
D: Just do it. This is too much. If you care about her, you will find a replacement.
I'm learning that the more time I spend with Elena, the more she reminds me of Sybil and consequently, the more I am
forced to actually feel. No fucking more. I'm done with her and I'm done with this emotional bullshit. I became a vampire
to forget about Sybil, not to live forever to reminisce. I take another swig of bourbon, and closing my eyes slowly, I allow
the physical aching in my heart to spread like the plague throughout me, all whilst gripping that heavenly photograph.
Her name was just as dignified as her spirit: Sybil Salvatore, always on a horse, galloping around the plantation and
soaring through the wind like a mad woman. The slaves would wave at her from the fields, knowing that that sweet girl
was always Sybil. Her black locks soared behind her as she rode and that smile, oh that perfect smile that rarely left her,
was plastered across her lips when she felt the breeze against her. I guess she felt free like that, like she was the only
girl on earth that could fly. I always called her my nightingale and she was.
Sybil was my baby sister, four years younger than me. She was such a beautiful girl, full of so much life. Whenever the
house is silent enough, even now, I swear for just a moment I can hear her galloping by, laughing into the wind. She
never stopped smiling, not even when I would sling mud at her for fun or push her around. She would just scream my
name and chuck it right back. No one told Sybil Salvatore what to do, no man ever could. She was a fighter, strong and
full of utter tenacity.
In the end, loving Sybil wasn't enough, though, was it? Loving someone doesn't pardon them from tragedy. Loving
someone with your whole heart only coaxes death to snatch them away sooner.
She looked me in the eyes with those trademark baby blues one day in 1860, sharp and illuminated, but for once they
appeared broken, mourning. Her arms held me against the wall of the living room until she could conjure up the courage
to speak.
"Damon, I-I'm scared," She choked the words out, clenching my arms roughly.
"Just tell me," I begged, but she shook her head. "What's going on?"
Her arms wrapped around my waist and she buried her face into me. When her knees gave out from under her, I held
her up. She had turned fifteen only weeks before, but in that moment, she looked twelve.
"H-He grabbed me and then he touched me and I-I-I tried to fight him," She warbled and my eyes grew wide.
"Who?" I snapped, shaking her until she looked at me. "Who touched you?"
"I don't know," She wailed.
"Tell me what he did, Sybil. Did he-" I began in a state of panic.
Not my sister, not my sweet Sybil. She was an angel. How could anyone do that to her?
"He took my dress off," She whimpered. "And threatened me. He said that if I told anyone, he would slit my throat."
My heart was physically hurting.
"Promise you won't tell. Promise me," My sister sobbed, looking up with those big blue orbs.
I cupped her cheek with my trembling hand, pushing her raven hair away from her face.
"Tell me who did this to you. Now," My voice was shaking, but stern.
"I-I can't," She whispered.
"God damn it, Sybil. Tell me or so help me-"
"What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt me, too?"
I stared at her in disbelief. I pulled her against my chest so tightly that I could feel her heart thump against me.
"I would never, ever hurt you. I want to help you. I need to find that bastard and hang him from the nearest tree, Sybil. You
have to tell me. Please."
"He was an officer. I-I don't know his name." She said the words so softly that I almost missed them.
Her hands pushed me away suddenly and she ran for the horse stable, I just knew it somehow. Then there was a
scream. I still remember how cold that shriek sounded. I bolted from the room and out the back door. An old slave
woman held the girl in her arms, sobbing. Sybil was convulsing, her body uncontrollably spasming. Someone called a
doctor, but it would take time. Multiple people held her limbs down, and I yelled at them to stop. I didn't want to see her
confined like that, pinned down like a prisoner. She had already known that feeling of being forced into something she
didn't want.
"Give her air," I barked and almost everyone backed away.
One of the men in the field carried her upstairs to her bedroom. When the doctor finally arrived, he forced everyone out.
Before they dragged me out of there, I kissed her cheek, tears streaming down my own face. The doctors back in my day
didn't know shit. No one knew what was wrong with her, but she got really sick.
She woke up hours later and I truly thought she was going to be okay. She ate food and smiled and laughed like always.
But, whatever the fuck it was, it took everything from her: first her sight, then her kidneys, and finally her heart. The
unrecognizable illness ate away at her slowly, so slowly that I barely noticed how much it had drained her.
Every night I slept beside her and held her skinny carcass. She talked to me and laughed and even cried occasionally.
Whatever she did, I held that angel against me through it. I stroked her forehead and whispered sweet things in her ear. I
loved Sybil Salvatore with every ounce of me. She filled my heart to the rim. I tried to stay strong for her, but the fear of
losing her ate away at me emotionally just as it ate away at her physically. The two were proportional.
"Damon?" She hummed one night. "Please don't let the doctor cut my hair. I heard him tell mother."
I couldn't imagine her with short hair. Those long locks were a part of who she was. I wondered if it had become too
much work to care for. It was getting tangled, her food sometimes getting caught. The fucking caretakers would complain
over and over about how frustrating it was to deal with, but they could kiss my ass because I wouldn't let them do that to
her, not to Sybil.
"I won't let them," I promised.
Other nights we talked about death and of course about heaven. It was not something I wanted to talk about. Who
would? Yet, the topic excited Sybil, comforted her somehow. She believed in a merciful god, another being that would
make sure that she was happy. Still, I wasn't ready to let her go.
"Can you fly in heaven?" She asked and I smiled.
"Of course, only angels can truly fly there," I whispered.
The room then went silent for a while. It was nice, though. Her fingers gently fiddled with my hand and together we
listened to the crickets outside.
"Am I going Hell?" She suddenly asked.
"Why would you ask that, Sybil?" I said softly.
"I'm tainted. That man touched me and now no one will want me. In God's eyes, I'm disgusting."
"You're not, I promise. You did nothing wrong. That sad-excuse for a human did that to you and I will degrade him when I
find him. I will beat the living shit out of him and kill him slowly."
She reached over to the side table with what strength she had and opened the tiny drawer. She pulled out a photograph
and her favorite hairbow. She gave them to me with a smile. The photograph was black and white, of course, and slightly
grainy. Sybil was lying in the grass, her hands behind her head, smiling as always. It was my favorite picture of her. It
encompassed everything I loved about my sister. I held the hairbow in my hand, on the verge of tears. Hours later, she
asked me something I'll never forget.
"Am I dying, Damon? Tell me the truth."
I didn't have the strength to lie to her and so I didn't.
"Yes," I answered flatly, and she just nodded as if she had already accepted her fate.
A week later, she lost her sight and then her kidneys gave out soon after. Her eyes stared straight ahead, even when I
held her cold hand and talked to her. Those eyes reflected her will to live, but it wasn't enough. She fought until the end,
I'll tell you that. She prayed to the Lord every night, not to ask for mercy, but to ask that I be happy. She was selfless like
that.
I held her one last time in my arms. It was a rainy night in late May. I hovered her face and her fingers felt the contours of
my jaw, tracing the edges. She laughed and told me to shave, pulling away at my scruffy chin. When she was finished,
she pecked my lips with hers and smiled.
Then, I finally broke down. I was scared, so scared that I would physically shake at the thought of losing her. My eyes
brimmed with tears and I looked at her sweet face, even though she couldn't look back.
"Don't leave me," I begged, my voice cracking. "Sybil, please."
I hugged her and rocked her in my arms as I cried. The rain had stopped sometime later.
"I want to fly, Damon. Please just let me fly," She whispered.
And I let her. I let her soul fly away that night, right out the open window. My nightingale died in my arms, done being a
fighter. Her battle had come to an end and it was okay somehow because I knew that she had won. She got to fly, feel
the clouds beneath her as she went.
I woke up with her cold, hard body against me. She died in her sleep or so I like to think. Her eyes were sealed, that
beautiful smile still etched on her lips. She looked happy. When death had taken her, she had willingly gone, liking
whatever heaven had to offer her. Yes, people die, that's life, but not Sybil. She was too young, too good to die. She was
too good even for heaven.
And so I found distraction in drinking, in the sex, anything to forget about her. I would have done anything to forget, too. I
guess that's something great about being a vampire, being able to take away the emotion. Four years after her death, I
did just that and I never looked back, not once.
I eventually leave. Elena must be in her room, as she fucking should be. The bourbon bottle is still in my hand as I walk
down the staircase and into the den area. My eyes are bloodshot and red, not from crying, but from exhaustion. Thinking
about Sybil is exhausting, drinking is exhausting, even breathing is exhausting. My defense has been down and I was
being tainted with human propaganda this whole time. I never saw it coming, I guess.
"Day-mond," Elena whispers from the entrance of the living area.
I close my eyes and take another sip of the gold liquid. I'm letting Elena go for the sake of the both of us. I'm saving her
from me, from the evil inside me. Then again, I'm saving myself from her. There is something inside me fighting for
dominance, begging me to hold on to what I truly am: a monster. I don't want to feel humanity or love or emotion, and so
I'm pushing Elena away. It's okay, though. It's fucking okay to let her go. I need a good fuck, not a teenage human girl to
try and change who I am. I can't be saved and I don't want to be.
By the time I open my eyes, Elena is kneeling in front of me, with tears in her eyes. Oh fuck. She hands me a small
bouquet of wild flowers, likely from the backyard. She sets them on my lap when I don't move to pick them up, flashing
those pathetic chocolate orbs at me like I'm supposed to care. It only gets weirder when she bends over and kisses my
feet. Her lips linger there for a long moment and I sit, immobile. I know that she is apologizing. This is her way of
showing it, but I can't, I just can't deal with her right now.
I stand up, now towering Elena on the floor. She looks at me with streaming tears and a pouted lip. I stare right back into
those eyes that for the longest time creeped me out. I stab mine into hers cruelly and shake my head slowly, throwing
the flowers at her feet. They scatter haphazardly around her before I walk away. The pain of letting go is intense, but I'm
pushing away the good in me, I'm taming it like I always have.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
*Sybil died from an unknown condition or illness. No one knows (could have been genetic). People died all the time from
a variety of things that no one understood*
Chapter Recap:
1) Elena comes from an illegal settlement, where no survivors have yet been found (why they were living there is not yet
known)
2) Elena is like an immigrant who doesn't speak the language, but no one speak hers either (this is just a way to think
about it)
3) Elena makes the mistake of touching Damon's stuff
4) We learn that Sybil is Damon's little sister (and no...they did not love each other like 'that'. But he loved and cared for
her with all his heart)
5) Damon is giving Elena to someone else to care for
6) Damon doesn't want to feel his humanity or be reminded of Sybil, so he feels he has to say goodbye to Elena
Thank you for your support! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 7*: Chapter 7
Author's Note: Thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter, and of course my deepest gratitude to all of
you for your support and motivational words! xoxo Ren
I keep Elena busy with movies for most of the day, whilst anxiously waiting for Bonnie's call. The sooner this girl is gone,
the sooner I can get back to doing whatever the fuck I want. Luckily, there is something completely cleansing, almost
cathartic, about the whole ordeal. And Elena doesn't even realize it, but I'm packing her stuff into a tote bag, every last
memento of her scavenged and stuffed away into a bag. Instead of wondering what the hell I am doing, she mindlessly
stares at the fucking television screen, her knees against her chest like a small child. Fine by me, really. I begin loading
her vast DVD collection into the tote, too, along with her clothes and shoes, watching how the bag continues to grow and
expand.
Sometime later, I set the thing down by the kitchen counter and start making a list for her new owner. It begins as a
catalog of Elena's likes and dislikes, how her food should be prepared, and of course her fascination with certain
movies. By the end, I might as well have written a fucking funeral eulogy. What I believed would be one page turned into
three. I'm surprised by how much I know about the girl, as if I have known her all my life. I almost smile, but immediately
push the thought away. I just need to remind myself again and again that this is all for the best, that Elena will be happy.
Living with me is no picnic, not some amusement park with balloons and happy workers, the farthest thing from a
dreamland. She would never be happy here, not even if I wanted her to.
B: We can come pick up Elena if you're ready.
I'm really doing this, aren't I? She's leaving. I force myself to smile, and I force myself to go through with it, as I should.
Doesn't it take twenty one days to form a habit? If I let her go now, I can still save myself from any attachment or human
connection.
D: Yup. She's ready to go.
B: We'll be there in five.
I take a deep breath and walk to the den to get Elena, but the television is off and she's not around. I knit my brows
together in confusion, but I hear the toilet flush seconds later, and my jaw nearly drops open in surprise. She used the
toilet on her own? Wow...impressive. I smile a little before grabbing the large tote bag and throwing it over my shoulder,
finally feeling how badly my heart is aching. I try my best to ignore it. I know what I want.
When Elena comes out of the first floor bathroom, I smile at her. She smiles back, maybe for a second believing that I
have forgiven her. I reach out and grab her hand softly and she accepts it without hesitation. We walk hand-in-hand to the
front door, stopping in the foyer. Her chocolate orbs gaze up at me and there's this fucking piece of me that wants to
gouge them out and another that wants to get lost in them.
We stand in the silence for a while and it is surprisingly peaceful. When I hear a car pull up in the circular driveway, I take
another deep breath. Then, of course, a knock. I open the door quickly and wait for the guests to step inside. The vampire
is a woman, shoulder length brown hair that is spiked at the ends to match her sharp smile. Elena's hand tightens a
little in my hold, but I think nothing of it.
"Damon, this is Rose," Bonnie introduces.
I nod and smile awkwardly. She seems nice enough. The guilt is easing a little, at least. My eyes look down at Elena and
her heart beats softly. She can't understand the conversation, but she trusts me too much to predict what is to come next.
"My humanity is on, if you're worried Damon," Rose says with a grin, a cocky ass grin, like having your humanity on
makes you a better vampire. I scoff.
"Good. Here's her stuff. Umand there's a list of everything you need to know about her, too." My voice is confident, but
shaky, and I can tell that Bonnie can see my nervousness.
The vampire reaches into her pocket and hands a piece of paper to me. The fuck? I give you a girl and you give me a
fucking piece of paper in return? How fucking generous. I roll my eyes.
"Here's my address and number if you ever want to visit or talk to Elena."
I stare at it for a minute before stuffing it into my back pocket, and dismissing it. As soon as this cocky bitch and her new
toy leave, I'm going to shred the damn thing. I do not need a new paper trail of things I'm trying to scrape from my
memory. This transaction is taking too fucking long, though. The anxiety is building up and I know that Elena is going to
call my bluff soon enough.
"Well, whenever you're ready to go" I begin, coaxing this process to accelerate.
"Of course," Rose laughs, opening the door in preparation.
I pull Elena toward the two women, but her eyes grow wide and she immediately puts up one motherfucking fight. The
heels of her feet scrape into the flooring and her hands thrash and claw for a grip of my shirt. She knows as soon as
Bonnie and Rose grab her arms that I'm handing her over. She is an extremely smart girl, screaming my name and
crying hysterically for me.
"Day-mond," She sobs over and over, punching and screaming. "No."
"She is just confused," I shout to Rose, forcing a smile of assurance.
Elena turns around to look at me, but I just stand here like an asshole, emotionless. Those warm doe eyes are wild and
panicked, begging me to save her, but I just can't, not now. I flick mine away from hers, watching her struggle in their hold
in my peripheral vision. That's when she begins knocking things over with her mind, smashing my precious vases and
artwork collection onto the floor around me. The telekinesis grows more and more desperate the longer I remain inert,
and I shake my head with a groan.
"Day-mond," She chants, screaming and throwing her head back in helplessness.
"Damon, do something," Rose hisses.
Windows fly open, seat cushions soar across the room, and glass shatters, but I am unperturbed by it all. Only when
she begins to use her magic on Rose and Bonnie do I have to intervene. As much as I would like to witness these two
supernatural women dragging Elena to the car, I don't really want the mute girl to be an assassin, in addition to her other
freaky talents. The women let go of Elena and she runs right into my arms, falling to her knees before me. Her face
burrows into my shirt, mumbling my name. I squat into a pitcher's position and pull her into my arms.
"Elena, you're okay," I whisper monotonically, holding her against my chest.
"Day-mond," She sobs.
My arms carry her toward the car outside and she doesn't seem to notice any of it, maybe in such an intense state of
hysteria to be bothered. I gently set her in the passenger seat of Rose's car and squat down beside her again. She looks
into my eyes, sniffling and pulling my hand to her face.
"Good girl," I say softly, tracing a circle on her arm.
A small grin appears on her lips. The sky is cloudy and dark and it reflects mournfully in Elena's warm eyes. Even then
she looks beautiful. There is a force beckoning me to hug her, but I can't go through with it. Instead, I turn to Rose.
"Get in the car and lock all the doors, so that when I shut it, she'll be locked inside. Once she gets home, she'll be fine."
I turn my attention back to Elena, who is still erratically whimpering my name. My fingers brush the wild stray hairs out of
her face one last time before I force the words out of my lips. I even offer her one last smile.
"Bye Elena. Be a good girl for me," I whisper, making sure her body is completely inside the vehicle before standing up.
I shut the door quickly and again, the desperate screams erupt. Her fists pound against the window over and over, but I
turn my back away like a coward and walk toward the front door. Rose and Bonnie pull away within seconds, and I don't
watch. I can't feel regret, not now. Elena is free of me, free of the demons deep within me. I know somehow that it is all
for the best.
I'm a heartless monster, nothing more. When I die, I'll be damned to hell, so why the fuck should I bother being good?
No matter what I do, my soul will always be absent, bound to the underworld to rot eternally. So am I on the border of
humanity and evil? No, my humanity is officially off, I let it go completely.
The house is overrun with a serious infestation, so bad that the house is covered with blood and urine and sweat. No,
there are no fucking rats, just a copious supply of young women dancing and drinking and partying all around me. Dead
bodies cover the floor like rugs and the screams of compelled girls stabbing themselves for the hundredth time ring out
like rhythmic chirping. I've been 'playing' for hours, maybe days. I'm not sure anymore, but the death toll has sure as fuck
risen since my little charade began.
"Do it, sweetheart," I whisper in one of their ears.
I grind her hips into the kitchen counter, my lips just beside her ear. Her breath is shaking, but she reaches out to touch
the hot stovetop burner obediently, screaming when her flesh sizzles against it. She tries to pull away, but I hold her wrist
down, animalistically kissing her neck. I then tear into the pulsing artery, burying my face into the column of her throat
and sucking for a good while. My lips feel how the liquid rushes into my mouth, quenching my thirst simultaneously.
When I pull away, the skin of her hand is unrecognizable.
Burning flesh is surprisingly disturbing, even for my taste. I grab a knife, wrapping an arm around the girl's bare waist
and pushing her head back until it rests on my shoulder. Trailing the blade from her navel up to her collar bone, I make
the line as straight as possible, watching the skin split open. The girl cries out as I sever her flesh, the blood dribbling in
little droplets down her. They form a pattern, like a piece of precious art and wrap around her waist before plummeting to
the tile floor.
"Now give me one good reason to let you live," I hum into her ear.
All she does is cry and whimper and beg. I am getting fucking impatient, wanting the excitement associated with a fresh
kill to linger in my bloodstream. How is this so hard? Am I really asking too much? Geesh.
"I-I," She stutters. "Please."
"Not a good enough reason. I want you to take this knife now and stab yourself in the heart."
"Nooo," She whimpers.
I push my bottom lip out to form a pout, "Do it for me, baby."
I hand her the knife and place her ass on the kitchen counter, so that her legs dangle. She looks at me in agony, her
blackened fingers trembling to hold the weapon. She holds it over her heart for a while, watching my eyes for
reassurance. I smile when it plunges into her chest, scraping against all kinds of things, bones and muscle and veins.
As always, I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose, yet something is different. It doesn't feel amazing like it
normally does. The adrenaline, the victory, it's not there at all. Her body tumbles over and falls flat onto the tile below. I
step back to get out of the way. Do I look like I give a single shit?
Now I really, really want to feel the thrill of malevolence, just to prove that it is still there. I stumble back to the living room,
compelled girls lined up against the walls. I count four. There were ten to begin with. I smirk. Scanty clothing barely
clings to the girls, as if begging me to rip them off of their hosts. I'm too fucking tired, though, and I collapse into my chair
with a groan.
"I want you girls to fight each other to the death, now. Whoever is left gets the best fuck of their life," I shout.
The chaos begins as soon as the words leave me, and I watch in complete amusement. This takes catfight to a whole
fucking new level. Hair tearing, skin cutting, biting, and every possible thing I would want to do to each one of them,
without clothes, of course is being played out before my eyes. My cock is throbbing in anticipation and I lick my lips slowly
until they are moist.
Then my fucking cell phone rings for the fourth time in the last hour. I look at the screen and as expected, it is Bonnie
once again. My head shakes and I turn the damn thing off completely. When I glance back up at my little kittens, they are
feverishly grunting and scratching each other. The blonde is choking the tattooed brunette, the bow-legged girl is
stabbing the tallest of the group, and I'm just smiling in amusement. It is a fucking bloodbath and the scent of fresh kill is
swarming the air around me. After a while, I stretch my arms above my head and hum along to the shrieks, making my
own melody with them.
It seems like I only close my lids for a second, but when they reopen, just one girl is left heaving on the floor, drenched in
blood and triumph. The bow legged brunette? Well isn't it your lucky fucking day. I stand up with a smile and walk over to
her, taking her hand and helping her up. Within seconds, I drag my tongue up her face, tasting the blood of her victims.
She giggles girlishly and I make open mouthed kisses along the perimeter of her jaw and down her neck. The soft
moans come next and all I want is to bury my manhood inside her.
"Congrats, sweetheart," I whisper seductively, slamming her against the nearest wall, so that she can feel just how hard
I am.
She growls before those hands reach out to feel me up. She giggles again, grabbing my hand, and pulling me toward
the staircase before I can even react. Her long legs run up the damn steps like a track star, screaming in glee, but fuck it.
I instantly grab her ankle and her entire body slams against the wood under her with a thud, and then a murderous
scream, seconds later. No fucking way are we having sex on my bed. The little whore is covered in blood and STDs, not
that I mind either, but still...that bed is sacred. I roll her over on the stairs and she looks at my confused and quivering.
"I prefer it kinky," I whisper.
There's nothing kinkier than having sex on a staircase. The wood digs into your spine, your body is reclined at a forty five
degree angle and you can only imagine how many pairs of feet have walked beneath your bodies. These stairs have
history and hey...easy blood cleanup, too. I tear at her clothing, begging to remove it. The process is short and before
long, I am butt naked and yearning to be fulfilled.
I push myself inside her and she grunts in approval, snapping her head back in an instant. I watch her face, wanting to
see it contort in agony. I do not understand why at first. Maybe it is the way she looks at me, the way she smiles, or the
way she says my name. There is something about it that makes me livid. 'I am a monster,' I keep reminding myself.
I flip her over onto her stomach and enter her again, slowly. She moans softly, gripping the staircase. I've done horrible
things in my life, things you can't even imagine. Using women is not something anyone would be proud of, but I love the
power, and especially the control. I want to be the puppet master, I fucking crave it. I love how they fawn over me right
before I take away their will. It's one of the few ways I find true adrenaline.
Then the nostalgia hits me, but for the oddest reason. Thoughts of Elena crawl into my brain like a fucking maggot. It fills
me with this unjustified anger and my thrusts become rougher, more demanding. I push away any thought of her, but I
ponder on the memories of her skinny, little legs climbing these same steps so many times before this. I can still
remember her curiosity the first day and how other times her feet would pitter patter up them when it was time for bed.
But my childish, sentimental behavior is getting fucking ridiculous. I don't need her, I don't need anyone for that matter.
The bow legged girl is screaming bloody murder, instantly pulling me from my daydream.
"You're hurting me," She fucking screams, "Please."
I look down. Her hips are bruised and bloody, my nails buried in her flesh. I lost control again. I'm losing my control.
Fuck. Something is breaking me inside. I need to feel something. Glory, power, something. I grab the girl by her hair,
gripping the cluster roughly. She whimpers, but I try not give a single fuck. Still, even after all this pain and torture I have
caused, there is no fulfilling emotion for me, no adrenaline.
"Am I a monster?" I hiss.
"There's good inside you," She gurgles in trauma.
I tighten my hold, turning her face to look at me. It's covered with blood and sweat and my spit.
"Tell me the truth," I compel.
There is a silent pause but she answers eventually, robotically if anything.
"M-Monster," She sobs.
"Good. Thank you for being honest," I hum before snapping her neck in one swift move.
Her body slams against the wooden staircase, smacking her head on it and falling limply to the side. The retinas of her
eyes are twinkling and glazed. The sight of death, I guess. I lightly stroke her face, trailing the tip of my index toward her
throat. My fingers eventually wrap around her skinny neck, before I finally fling her across the room until her body crashes
into some glassware. Serves her right. By the way, this place looks like a shithole. I call up my cleaning crew, instructing
them to get their fucking asses over here.
Then I sigh, grabbing my clothes and jacket, and throwing the ensemble on quickly. I feel like shit. Nothing feels the
same as it used to. The killing, the torturing, the abuse towards these humans. It's supposed to make me feel amazing
and powerful, but now I only feel numb. Something's not right. As a vampire with no humanity, nothing matters, but
somehow everything matters right now. What the fucking fuck? I head out to the main road. If anything makes me feel
better, it's playing some head games with the average human population.
I lay in the road for a long time, no traffic passing for a long while. I watch the sky and my mind wanders. I expected that
everything would return to normal after Elena left, that the thrill of killing and being a monster would immediately
reappear. I've been doing it for so long, but instead I just feel empty. It seems no amount of human pain can tame this
insatiable need anymore. Am I dying? Is this what it feels like? At the end of your being, you go numb, so that nothing
makes you feel alive anymore, and eventually you just perish?
A car approaches in the distance and instead of the anticipation I usually feel, I groan in dread. The vehicle begins to
slow and I close my eyes instinctively, awaiting my next victim, hoping it will trigger the monstrosity I know is inside me.
The person runs over and then they stop a good two feet away.
"Damon?" The familiar voice beckons.
I open my fucking lids and who else but Bonnie Bennett is standing over me. She looks at me as if she has seen a
ghost. Hmm...not far off, really.
"What the fuck do you want?" I growl in frustration, pulling myself to my feet.
"I was on my way to your house. You haven't answered any of my calls," She says in an accusatory tone.
"Thanks for the obvious," I spit, rolling my eyes.
"Damon, Rose can't get Elena to stop crying. She won't eat or sleep or drink. She just keeps screaming for you." She
crosses her arms and points her witchy little finger at me.
"And this is my problem how?"
"Why can't you just let the good in?" She finally questions.
I pause at first, not knowing how to fucking respond. The question is ridiculous and meaningless. I shouldn't have to
explain myself.
"Because when people see good, they expect good, and I don't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations." I shake
my head, pushing a hand through my dark locks.
"It has been a hundred and fifty years," She whispers, "Do the world some flipping good for once."
"I didn't choose to be like this. I'm like this because I'm fucking guilty, okay? Is that what you wanted to fucking hear? I
never found my sister's rapist. I never served justice, got it? I died that day. When my sister died...I-I died with her."
The questions are flustering me. They screw me to the core, trying to break me. She is relentless in her quest for a
decent explanation. My eyes stare at the stars and not at the witch.
"It's not your fault, Damon," She tries to assure me.
"Fuck off, Bonnie. The last thing I would want to do is take care of a fucking mute freak." The words are acidic as they
leave my lips.
If the only way to prove to Bonnie that I don't want to be good is by showing it, so be it. I will curse and hiss and belittle
Elena until that witch gets in her fucking car and drives away. I've made my choice and I'm not changing it.
"So that's it then? You're going to let her scream until her lungs give way?" She barks.
I throw my hands up in a surrender, stepping backwards slowly.
"Not my problem anymore," I say in a deep chuckle.
I begin to walk away and Bonnie shouts after me. I don't turn to look at her as she begs and pleads. I'm going to fucking
go home and have a nice blood bag and find a way for my life to return to normalcy.
"Damon, please," She yells, but I drown out her voice until I'm so far gone that no one can save me, until the world is
forced to just fucking let me be.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts! xoxo Ren
Chapter Recap:
1) Damon hands over Elena with a sorrowful goodbye
2) Damon is off his medication (haha!)
3) He is surprised when his usual cruel tactics don't give him the adrenaline rush he always got with killing
4) Elena is not handling Damon's disappearance well...reacting by refusing to eat, sleep, and stop crying
Thank you again! :)
*Chapter 8*: Chapter 8
Author's Note: Thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter!
P.S. I always personally thank each of my reviewers, but to the 'guests' that leave such sweet words, thank you so much!
I wish I could message you my gratitude because it means so much to me! xoxo Ren
Curled beneath the sheets of my warm bed, I think and think and think. The thoughts, the considerations, they all offer
themselves before drowning me with their vast density. Sometime later, I roll out of the fucking bed and drag my feet
along the hallway of the boarding house, one in front of the other, but reluctantly. I am sleep deprived and despondently
searching for relief. I somehow make it downstairs, even in my despair, collapsing onto the sofa in the den.
My lips take a sip of the bourbon glass from a previous alcohol filled night. I lay my head back and although it takes a
while, I close my weary eyes. My body feels soothed by the warmth of the leather against my back, the smell of fresh
furniture polish validating the revival of this once blood splattered room. Everything's where it should be now and I find
something relieving about it. Then, I take one last deep breath before finally, my consciousness is reaped.
Lately my dreams have become repetitive, memories being replayed from when I was human. They haunt me each
night, but tonight this specific dream is new. The memory is frightening, mostly because I have forgotten that any of it had
actually happened. How could I have forgotten that night with Sybil? It was merely a week before her death, another rainy
day in May, one where the sky was clear and blue, yet wet. The dream begins and I watch it play out just as I remember
it.
We lay in her bed as always, dark rings around her eyes, showing how much death wanted to claim her. It is surprisingly
sunny out, a rain shower presently sprinkling the green earth. The nurse places a large clay bowl on her bedside table,
setting Sybil's wrist inside the basin. Back in those days, they slit your wrists and let you bleed out for a while, foolishly
believing that whatever the illness was, no matter what it was, it was in the blood. Unfortunately, it only made the patient
weaker, more susceptible to death. I was no smarter back then, and so I let them do that to her.
I watch as the the droplets splash into the bowl, each timed accordingly. As the blood begins to leave her, so does the
color of her cheeks. She looks ghostly, pale and sickly, and yet so alive with that sweet smile plastered on her lips. After a
while, she throws her head back and laughs at one of my immature comments about the nurse. I have to describe
everything for her, be the eyesight she now lacks, and I can't say I don't exaggerate things to make her smile.
"Damon? Have you ever been in love?" She asks me softly.
"No," I whisper, almost too embarrassed to answer her, "Only old people fall in love."
She chuckles lightly and then sneaks her fingers into my palm with her free hand. Tears slowly creep down her cheeks
and it takes me a second to notice them.
"Sybil, what's wrong?" I urge.
"I want to fall in love, Damon. I want to grow old," She whimpers.
I see the pain in the way her face contorts, the way she squeezes my hand with so much force. Within seconds, I'm
holding her waist, stroking her cheek with my fingertips.
"Please don't cry," I beg, wiping away some of the wet trails.
"What that man did to me-" She starts to say. "What did he do to me? II don't understand, Damon. It just hurt so much.
Mother used to say that when I get married, on my wedding night, the man I'll be married to will fall in love with me as
time goes on. He will be kind to me, and that way, I can let him kiss me or touch me-"
"No," I hush. "Don't. Don't think about that. What happened to you has nothing to do with what happens on your wedding
night."
I kiss her forehead, forming a pattern of them across her face. She smiles a little, her bright, blue eyes gazing at the
white ceiling as she cries. I would have done anything for Sybil, anything to make her life fulfilling. My lips move to form
words soon enough, and the memory grows clearer to me.
"What does your true love look like?" I whisper beside her ear.
She sniffles, but smiles, "Long, dirty blonde hair. It is curly and wild and his eyes are a deep green."
"And his name?" I ask softly, stroking her temple.
There is a long pause, but her lips curl up in an intense daydream. Eventually she chokes out a name.
"Warren," She whispers back.
I smile a little before gently tucking her black hair behind her ears and pressing my lips to her neck. She belts out an
idiosyncratic chuckle, loud and vibrant as always.
"He'll first kiss your neck and whisper 'Sybil, my darling Sybil'," I say softly, kissing her throat sweetly.
I move my lips down to her collarbone and she smiles, emanating just how much this means to her. To escape the pain
for five minutes, to be able to feel what it is like to be loved by a man, even if only in her mind. Being blind makes it all
the more special, though. I can be whoever she wants me to be, a person that she will never know nor meet.
Furthermore, I show her the way she should be treated. What that disgusting man took from my sister was not her
innocence, but her views of love. There was no love, no respect, no selflessness. I wouldn't let her die believing for a
second that what that man did to her was love.
"He'll stroke your waist," I continue in a deep hum, "And finally his lips will meet yours, ever-so-gently pressing them
against yours."
I mash my mouth to her cold pout, and of course, she is giggling and attempting to hold a straight face, but somehow
simultaneously crying out of pure happiness. I begin moving my lips, kissing her deeply, the way my sister deserved to
be kissed. Her mouth tastes like death, cold and stale, but even so, I suckle her lips. When I pull away, I give her tired
lungs time to breathe, turning my lips to her collarbone instead. They brush along the bone, causing Sybil to gasp.
"And when he's exhausted from kissing you, he'll whisper 'I love you, Sybil Salvatore, with all my heart'," I tell her, finally
pulling her against my chest, and holding her steadily in my arms.
Blood from the bowl and her wrist has splattered all around by the action, but I don't care. Bleeding her out isn't doing
anything for this sweet angel. It is only giving her more pain. Hours later, after a short nap, my sister looks up at me, not
that she can see or anything, but because she knows my face is there. She stares in the direction she believes my eyes
to be, pausing for a moment before finally whispering, "Thank you."
The dream skips around a lot through time, but I once again recognize the day. The scene wasn't long after that night.
The girl in the dream, Sybil, whispers something inaudible in my ear and I nod.
"When you find your soul mate, Damon Salvatore, you better love that girl with your whole heart, understand?" She
laughs.
"How will I know she's the one, Ms. Salvatore?" I ask childishly.
"You won't be able to stop thinking about her. She'll make you a better person and she'll annoy the hell out of you," She
snorts, laughing maniacally. "So promise me, Damon. Right now."
I sigh dramatically and clear my throat. Oh, the things I did for Sybil.
"I, Damon Salvatore, promise to love my soul mate with my whole heart. Happy now?"
Her smile grows wide, the edges appearing to reach from one ear to the other in complete euphoria. She pulls my face to
her lips and kisses my cheek, or at least tries to find my cheek. We laugh and laugh and then there is nothing but
darkness.
I wake up in the middle of the night with sloppy tears brimming along my lash line. The dreams feel so real when they
play out. I'm not sure how the fucking tears got here, but they certainly were not consensual. I wipe my face with my arm,
and groan, shaking my head and trying to push Sybil away. I remember promising her, but I made a lot of promises to
my sister. If this dream is my subconscious mind's way of convincing me that others are worth caring about, then it's
sure good at making me feel like shit.
I sit up on the sofa, reaching for the remote. I turn the damn thing on, taking another sip of the room temperature drink
beside me. It is never too early for a stiff drink, is it? Fuck it. There is never a bad time for a stiff drink. It's 5 O'Clock
somewhere. I close my eyes for a second, pulling air in through my nose and out through my mouth. Then the
reverberation of a familiar voice rings in my ear. My eyelids snap open and the television stares back at me, stabbing me.
I must have forgotten to take the fucking DVD out of the machine before Elena left. The Disney cartoon has been sitting
here the entire time, waiting for me to watch it as if some sign from God, or maybe fate.
Wall-E. I hear him speak and I nearly choke on the alcohol. Either this is an omen or a token of hope. Holy fuck. The
scene is of Wall-E teaching Eve his name. He draws out all the syllables until the female robot repeats it. Look fucking
familiar? Except in this movie, Wall-E must show Eve that she does not need to use violence. He shows her how to be
'good' and kind. Elena was trying to teach me goodness, wasn't she? Something clenches inside my chest and I feel
it..it's my fucking heart. I miss her. I truly fucking miss that annoying mute girl.
"Elena," I whisper, as if I'm saying it for the first time.
I grip the sofa, nearly quivering in panic. I let her go. It's like an epiphany, and I suddenly understand the severity of what
I've done. You fucking asshole, I hiss at myself. This entire time, I had believed that the only way to be happy was to
distract myself from thinking about Sybil, about what happened to her. But Sybil would never have wanted this for me.
She wanted me to be selfless like I was with her, to care about someone else, to comfort them like I had her. Sybil
doesn't want me to forget her, she wants me to spread the same joy I brought to her. How could I have been so fucking
stupid?
I grab my leather jacket and hastily make my way to where I left that pair of pants with the paper and address on it. Wall-E
plays in the background as I leave and within seconds, my hands dig through the fucking laundry basket, through
drawers, and everywhere. I can't find the fucking thing and I'll admit, I'm growing worried. I'm too ashamed to call Bonnie
and too anxious to roam the streets and ask around. When the helpers had cleaned up, I didn't give a fuck about those
pants. I actually wanted those humans to lose them. Shit.
I look one last time in my drawers and fucking boom. There they are. I snatch them, digging into the back pockets. The
small paper is there, but I am careful with it. The thing is withered and the ink smudged from being thrown into the
washing machine. I look at the blurry text, but luckily, I am able to read the house number and some of a street name.
Good thing I've lived here long enough to know that there is only one road in Mystic Falls with a 'ford' at the end of its
name.
My foot slams on the gas pedal before anything can stop me. I have to see her, look into those wild brown orbs and hold
her skinny silhouette against me. My breathing is heavy and labored as I drive along, zipping through traffic lights and
passing cars. The address isn't far, just many windy roads to get there, I guess. It gives me time to think about my
selfishness.
My humanity was never truly off, not even when I said goodbye to Elena. This girl had turned it on, she had softened me
so subtlety that I didn't realize it at first. Everyone had been telling me to trust my heart. They saw the way I looked at
Elena, the way she made me feel something for once in my fucking vampire existence. Even my subconscious wanted
me to stop pushing her away. I guess I wanted a reason not to care. I was afraid of change, afraid to feel again. I wanted
her, this whole fucking time, I wanted someone to care about.
The tires squeal when I pull into the driveway, and the car is barely stopped when I jump out, immediately sprinting to the
front door. I am heaving and out of breath, waiting and waiting. Rose eventually opens the door, her eyes tired and red.
She looks absolutely fucking horrible.
"I'm taking her home," I say fearlessly.
I push her aside and step through the door. I know that Rose doesn't own this place, and the likelihood is that the owner
had died somewhere along the line. I don't fucking care at this moment, though. All that is reeling through my head is
Elena.
"Damon," She shouts behind me as I walk toward her staircase. "Elena's not here."
My stomach drops and my legs spin me around to look at the vampire. She pushes a hand through her hair, forcing her
eyes down.
"I called you again and again to tell you. Elena ran away," She whispers.
"And you didn't bother fucking looking for her?" I bark in horror.
"I haven't slept in days Damon. I haven't had blood in so long," She mumbles, holding on to the door frame for support.
"The entire vampire race depends on her, Rose. Not to mention that she can't communicate," I accuse harshly.
I am so upset at the woman, but am I any better than her? I left Elena home alone once. I handed her over to a complete
stranger. I lashed out at her when she touched my stuff. As angry as I want to be with Rose, the only person I should be
angry with is myself. The true monster is me. I haven't been the man I promised Sybil I would always be for her.
"Damon, she was long gone by the time I realized."
"Well go to hell," I spit.
I notice Elena's tote bag near the front door beside Rose. I grab it and leave immediately, chucking the stuff into the back
seat and taking off. There is only place, besides my house, that Elena would have gone. Home. Her true home, where
everything began. My foot has the gas pedal flat against the car floor, frantically hoping for a miracle. The werewolves
could have her. She could be lost and cold somewhere high in those trees, on the verge of death. I try my best to remain
calm, only gripping the steering wheel until it begins to crack. Fuck being calm.
When I come to that same spot on the main road where Elena had run to me, I pull the car over, and flash into the dense
forest, using my supernatural speed to zip through the miles and miles of brush and trees. Seven miles, the news caster
had described. I run and run and run, my shoes pounding against the leafy ground. There is this piece of me pushing
me on, prodding my legs to go faster. I close my eyes and then nearly collapse when my knees lock suddenly, right in
front of the yellow caution tape that is fencing in the crime scene. I bend over and sneak under the ribbon, stumbling and
searching.
The place is barren, as it should be in the middle of the night. Even the cops have gone home, tired of investigating and
questioning. It seems that I call her name a thousand times, my voice trembling and deep. I look around the so-called
tribe, the houses made of huge logs and mud. It is rustic, allright, but I can't appreciate any of it with the desperate ache
in my heart. I just need to find her. I call louder and louder until I nearly trip over something.
She's curled up in the fetal position, lying on a small dirt mound and shivering from the cold. I fall to my knees beside
her, scooping her into my arms, breathlessly. She cries out, a sharp scream of complete relief that muffles into my
name. Her body shakes in my hold, but her arms wrap around me all the same, and she softly whimpers.
"Elena," I beg, "We're going home, baby. I promise you."
I let her lay against my chest as I drive us home. As unsafe and awkward as it looks, it feels right just to have her with
me, even if it is literally on my lap. When the car stops, she sobs my name, maybe expecting me to return her to Rose. I
guess I can understand that. As much as she seems to admire me, she no longer trusts my intentions, and that is
completely understandable. I hush her cries softly, carrying her toward the house. The relief is evident when she realizes
that we are back at the boarding house.
My tired legs stumble up the stairs and I push my bedroom door open with my foot. We are both so completely
exhausted that neither of us complain when I step into the shower stall and collapse to its floor with her still in my hold. I
turn the nozzle on and warm water instantly pounds us. I just lay against the shower walls with Elena in my arms while
she sobs. She grips my shirt with her fingers, refusing to let go. It is completely silent except for the sound of running
water, and it gives me time to finally fucking breathe.
Neither of us has to say a word. Only the raw emotion is needed to understand how pained each of us is, how relieved
our hearts suddenly feel. I let her cry for a good twenty minutes, only occasionally apologizing, but I know it will never be
enough, so I eventually just stop. When I'm sure her initial breakdown is over, I loudly sing her 'You Are My Sunshine' over
the intense pounding of water. She collapses backward until her spine presses into the wall of the shower, just like me.
I sit up and look at her mournfully, gently taking her hand into mine. My fingers lead her hand to my chest, right where I
believe my heart should be. I rest it there and look into her warm eyes.
"Damon, bad," I whisper.
I then direct the same hand to her heart, pressing it there.
"Elena, good," I say softly.
She looks at me with a quivering lower lip, but shakes her head in disagreement. Seconds later, she guides my hand to
my heart.
"Day-mond good," She hums, curling her lips up at the corners.
Water drains off of her like a waterfall and her eyes are swollen from endless crying and screaming, but still, somehow
she looks vibrant, happy in a way. I smile right back at her and unexpectedly, her eyes light up. I will admit that my heart
melts to hear those words from her lips. The fact that she can still the good in bad people, especially after all I've done to
her. This girl, this girl who is the personification of goodness, kindness, and purity, thinks that there is enough goodness
left in me to redeem myself. I cannot help but grin.
We sit there like that for a while, just smiling and enjoying the water. Eventually she moves to sit on her knees and I do
the same. Our bodies face each other, feeling how the warm water continues to spray us. I begin to unbutton my shirt,
peeling off the drenched fabric. Then, I take off my pants, leaving the clothes beside me in the wet shower. My poor
shoes are unsalvageable, but I take them off anyway and set them aside.
I leave my boxers on and begin helping Elena with taking off her pink shoes before unzipping her dress. Our eyes are
fixed on each other, both afraid that this is all just a dream. I slip the clothing over her head, leaving her in only her
undies. She looks at me exhaustedly. Just like me, she hasn't slept in days. I'm convinced she'll keel over right here in
the shower, but instead, she looks at me with those eyes, in awe that she's home, that I'm here with her.
I grab the shampoo with a smile and begin scrubbing her head gently, massaging those beautiful, long locks with my
fingers. My eyes close for a second, feeling just how severe my own tiredness is, how badly it is eating away at me. Then
I feel her fingers on my head. She's working the soap into my hair. My lids snap open and I smile at her. She smiles right
back. It seems that her hands remember how I used to wash her and they replicate it on me now.
She laughs when I flick a cluster of bubbles at her, returning the favor to me. I instantly pull her against my chest and she
giggles, not expecting me to be so um...playful? As she lays against me, I trail the backs of my fingers up and down her
bare back with the soap and listen to her soft cooing. She is so warm and I relish in the feeling for however long it lasts.
The water eventually washes away all the suds from our bodies and hair, swirling down the drain like a whirlpool. I look
down at Elena's face and her eyelids are sealed and her mouth ajar, breathing deeply. I knew she would fall asleep, just
not now, not half naked in the shower. I chuckle at this curious little creature before standing up with her in my arms.
I look at her fingers and they are like prunes at the tips, like a little old lady. At least she smells clean, and even better, I
can't help but notice that we smell the same, both radiating that heavenly odor of cleanliness. My hands wrap Elena in a
bunch of white, fluffy towels before carrying her sleeping frame to my bed. I lay some towels under her head to capture
the moisture of her long, soaked hair, luckily not disturbing her sleep in the process. I quickly scamper back to the
bathroom to change out of my own soaked boxers, replacing them with clean cotton shorts. Then, I dry my hair and return
to the bedroom, where Elena lays sleeping, wrapped in her towels like an angel.
The last thing I do is take off her wet panties, being careful and gentle as not to wake her. Her hips are turned to the side,
thankfully, so that when I slide them off, she is not exposed. My eyes click back up to look at her face, relaxed and not
pained anymore. And then I nearly roll onto the mattress, turning out the lights and feeling her warm body radiate beside
me. In the blackness of the room, I watch her with a smile, knowing that everything is how it should be. Elena belongs
here, she belongs in my life, and I know that now. I just needed to be reminded that it's okay to be good, that I can let
people in.
"Thank you, Sybil," I say softly, shutting my fatigued eyelids, "Thank you."
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed!
Important things to remember:
1) Damon was in no way in love with his sister. He did not want her to die believing that rape is love. You have to see the
beauty in what he did for her, rather than ponder on how 'barbaric' or 'gross' it is.
2) Damon needed to be reminded that it's okay to be good...the dream and a little bit of Wall-E did the trick!
3) He is not in love with Elena per se, but he cares a lot about her, too much to just let her go
Thank you for reading and reviewing! Yours words are the best motivational support I could ever ask for! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 9*: Chapter 9
Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter for me! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
xoxo Ren
P.S. I recommend having another song opened in a tab for a later scene. This time? 'Itty Bitty Pretty One' by Thurston
Harris.
I feel her against me, groaning softly in her sleep beside my ear. My eyes flutter open against the silent pleas of my
stubbornness. The morning light is bright and spreads over both of our bodies, momentarily distracting me from a
distinct odor. Blood. Veins form under my eyes, my fangs thrusting through my gums uncontrollably. I am sitting straight
up before I can think, searching my surroundings for the source. My hands pull the sheets from Elena's skinny
silhouette, revealing what I had initially expected. I force the fangs to retract, sighing softly in relief.
Red smears scatter the white towels from the night before, her bare body unaware that it is lying in the mess. Elena is
still fast asleep, her brows furrowed in an intense dream. She moans before flipping over to bury her face into the pillow.
I guess it's nice to at least know that she is truly a girl, right? A human girl with her monthly visitor, just like every woman
in the female population. My eyes are fixed on her naked backside, staring it up and down. The longer I gawk, the more I
realize something: she has no hair on her body.
Every time she was bare, I would flick my eyes away from her. I have never actually taken the time to look at her body.
Why should I? That's fucking creepy and weird. Still, I'm curious now. I drop my face down to her spine, looking
meticulously for signs of body hair. Not a single one. My fingertips brush her skin and it's spotless. What the hell? I look
at her legs, expecting a garden of dark rooted hair in need of a good shave, but instead, there is nothing.
I gently roll her over so that I can see the front of her, being very careful about it, so that it does not disturb her sleeping
frame. I check her armpits: bare. Her belly: bare. Finally, I look down below her navel: fucking bare. My eyes are wide and
if anything, shocked. I had seen her naked plenty of times, but obviously not observantly enough to realize that the mute
girl that likely lived in that forest all her life had no hair. Sometimes we forget that hairiness is something natural, well,
because nowadays, women remove it all.
Different story back in the 1800s, but now, there's never been a woman that hasn't hacked every follicle from her body in
my presence. Does hairlessness represent purity because it is reminiscent of a child, an innocent child? That's what
woman with no hair look like: tall little girls, still waiting for puberty. It is a fad that still creeps me out a little. Now, for the
first time, I realize Elena is just like them, reminiscent of a child, one with no hair, free of all burden. I pull the sheet back
over her body when I see her shiver.
For a while, I sit there, thinking, maybe mesmerized by a myriad of things. Things like 'Elena is home with me' and 'Elena
is in my bed, not a hair on her body besides her head, eyelashes, and eyebrows,' and 'Elena is bleeding all over my
towels'. Yet, those things are unimportant, somehow. All that matters is that she is with me. Here, I know she is safe and
cared for. I may not do the best job in the world, but I try my best for her. She's a part of me now. I gently tuck a loose
strand of hair behind her ear, watching her face contort in restlessness.
I quickly run to the car to grab her tote bag and fucking hope that the neighbors don't notice the man outside, half naked.
My hands drag the overflowing thing up to my room quietly and before long, I lay back down beside her and wait.
Listening to her heart thud beside me is all I need to be content. Still, there is something deep within me praying that she
is familiar with this monthly extravaganza. Explaining this to her would be nearly impossible. Even so, lying so close to
her blood is driving me insane, the scent being the equivalent of a human's homemade pancakes sizzling on the
stovetop. I have to force myself to be in control. Not my favorite activity, but hurting Elena is something I can never
imagine doing again. I will make sure it never gets that far.
Eventually she groans, burrowing her nose into my chest and gripping my ribs. The groans become muffled and I am
alarmed when she whimpers in pain.
"Elena," I say softly in concern.
I notice her holding her hip, realizing soon enough how much it is hurting her. Cramps? Menstrual pains? I can't be sure,
but my arms wrap around her in an instant, heaving the girl onto my muscled chest. I skim my fingers through her hair
and hush her softly. The first thought that comes to mind is painkillers, aspirin, anything to take away the pain, but of
course the impurity of those drugs would poison her rather than relieve the pain.
"Day-mond," She sniffles.
I kiss her temple and again hush her strained whimpers. The sheet covers her up to the divot of her lower vertebrae so
that almost her entire bare back is exposed. I can feel her breasts press against my chest, radiating a warm heat that
envelops me almost immediately. We lay there for a while, just being, nothing more. She cooes as I rub her back with my
palms, maybe soothing some of the pain momentarily.
"Let's go get you cleaned up, baby," I say softly, sitting up with her.
She groans a little, but luckily it is her headstrong will, rather than the pain, instigating it. I help her onto the flooring to
make sure that she doesn't get any blood on the bed. As long as it stays on the towels, I'll be a happy camper. The
morning light illuminates the room, but most of all it illuminates Elena's olive flesh as she stands. She looks beautiful,
radiant. Her long hair drapes over her breasts until the nipples disappear beneath them. I smile at her when she
catches me looking. Awkward as fuck getting caught, I'll admit it.
I lead her to the bathroom, and yes, my raunchy magazine collection is still in there, but I throw a fucking towel over the
stack before Elena's eyes have time to realize. Her nightgown and hairbrush wait for me in the tote bag of her
belongings. I smile at them for a second, before bringing them to the bathroom. Elena waits patiently, busily exploring
her caretaker's private bathroom. I walk in and her fingers are brushing along the marble counter. The familiar brown
eyes snap up when I enter, but I smile reassuringly.
Before I even blink, she smiles back, allowing me to throw the nightgown over her head and obediently slipping her
arms into the sleeves. She plops down on the toilet, permitting the gown to fall around her hips so that it does not touch
any blood. I'm quick in wetting a washcloth with warm water and handing it to her. She understands quickly, wiping the
blood on her outer thighs first. I turn away, busily digging through her belongings for something to 'fix' this. I feel my
cheeks flush out of pure humiliation. I soon find something, a thing called a 'maxi pad', somewhere in the vast vicinity of
that bag.
My eyes curiously hop to the back of the package for instructions. I take one out, holding the flat foam square and reading
the label. Maxi pads with wings? What the fuck are wings? Are these pads going to fly away when they're done? Not to
mention that the depiction on the cover looks like a fucking sleeping mask. 'Extra absorbent'. So an extra absorbent
sleeping mask, for those teeny bopper romance breakups, I'm going to guess? But in all seriousness, how much
fucking blood is there going to be? Should I get out a life jacket in preparation for the sinking of the Titanic? Sounds like
we're all going down with it. My eyes do backward somersaults inside my lids incredulously.
I unwrap the pad thingy, the clean, pale underwear waiting beside me. Best gift I've ever unwrapped. I smirk. A strip of
thick paper towel to make my day. And it's not long before I already get the fucking sticky part stuck to my fingers. It is
industrial strength tape, damn it. I try to shake it off, slapping it against the cabinet until it sticks to that instead. My lips
curse under my breath, embarrassed and frustrated already. I sigh, shoving my eyes back to the instructions.
"Remove wrapper," I mumble. Fucking got that part. "...remove adhesive cover on flaps or wings"
I can't hold back a chuckle that has conjured in the depths of my throat. Wings, flaps, all such lovely descriptions. Still, I
diligently follow the fucking directions and remove the adhesive strips. My eyes click back to the words, but only after a
long, cocky smirk carves itself into my features.
"Stick the adhesive to the panties, directly below where your" My eyes grow wide. Well, okie dokie. Sure thing. I scoff in
some form of a nervous laugh.
I press the damn thing inside the lining of the underwear, adjusting it numerous times until I think it looks straight. What
the fuck do I do with these flappy things, now? I groan. I'm no expert on this. I don't think I have ever touched a fucking pad
in my entire existence.
"Fold flaps under," I mutter, reading from the packaging again.
I do that and again get my finger stuck to one of them in the process. But of fucking course. The damn thing folds on itself
until there is no more adhesive for the wing to hold onto, and I mutter 'fuck' a couple of times for a dramatic effect. I'm
finally finished, happily, but the thing is fucking lopsided and one has a deformed wing. If it were a bird, it would a broken
one. I can't say the quality of my work is so great, but hey, better than nothing. I walk over to Elena, setting each of her
ankles into the leg holes of the panties. She's cleaned herself up well, obviously used to this monthly ritual. The pads
seem foreign to her, but probably resemble something similar to a cloth.
She stands up slowly and I pull them up around her hips for her. She smiles at me, but I can see where she is hiding
pain in the indentations of her creases. She's aching. I wrap my arms around her, whispering her name softly. She
doesn't react when I scoop her up bridal style into my arms. I carry her back to my bed, throwing the bloody towels off and
laying her body out on the white covers. Her face scrunches a tad in discomfort, but she's a fighter, I can tell. The heating
pad is just down the hall, and so I grab it for her. I hope it is enough to make her somewhat comfortable, or as
comfortable as possible. I can't understand her situation, but I hate seeing her in pain. If anything, I wish I could take it all
away, every last ounce.
Later that day, I look at her from the entrance of the room. She's quietly watching one of her movies on the DVD player in
my room, hugging the heating pad, and popping cubes of fresh fruit into her mouth. I laid with her for most of the morning
until I couldn't ignore her grumbling stomach any longer. Elena was content when I left to get her something to eat,
instinctively pulling the heating pad closer to her body. And to tell you the truth, I do not mind spending the day in bed with
her. I've missed her, I've missed her presence and her warmth and her little smile.
I jump back onto the bed with her and she giggles. Just the way she gets so excited when I'm near makes me feel
incredible, like I have a purpose. She has a piece of watermelon in her hand and before long, she pushes it up to my
lips. I laugh nervously, but accept it, opening my lips to receive it. She smiles and stuffs one into her mouth, too. When
she holds up another, her eyes looks at it questioningly.
"Watermelon," I say softly.
Her eyes become fixed on my lips, watching how my mouth manipulates to pronounce it. I repeat it numerous times and
she smiles, trying it out herself.
"Wha-tear," She tries, and I nod.
"Melon," I articulate.
"Meal-in," She mumbles. "Wha-tear meal-in."
"Good girl," I almost shout in enthusiasm.
I love hearing her voice, her beautiful, angel voice. I draw a circle on her arm and her eyes light up in triumph. She thrusts
another piece into my mouth as I encourage her, and unexpectedly I almost fucking choke on it. I cough, dislodging it
from the back of my throat. Between the embarrassing coughing and laughing, I chew it down like a good little boy and
Elena chuckles quietly, turning her eyes to the screen. Beauty and the Beast. Of all the movies. I press my hands to the
back of my head and lean back against the plush pillows, enjoying these silent filled moments beside her.
After a while, I feel her curl up against me, draping her arm across my abdomen with a sigh. I tense a little initially, but
this urge to want to touch her is so strong that it's almost hypnotic. My fingers reach out and stroke her cheek. She
mumbles my name, setting the heating pad across my abs and laying her face on top of it. Odd creature, I think to
myself. Moments later, I close my lids for a few minutes, the movie muffling in the background. We must fall asleep like
that because when I open my eyes again, it's almost five O'Clock.
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head and groaning. I look down and Elena is gone, only the warmth of the heating
pad remaining. My legs stumble to the bathroom curiously, the door shut like a barrier. I'm not sure why I fucking knock,
but it ignites a cacophony of clattering and chaos from inside the room. Fear is the first thing to find its way into my thick
skull. I open the door, stepping inside without a second thought. There are unopened maxi pads scattered on the floor
and a crying girl curled up by the toilet. Her eyes are wide in fear, and I can hear just how fast her blood is pumping.
"Elena," I say softly, walking toward her swiftly.
She shudders at my touch and I'm shocked. I notice a dried streak of blood down her inner thigh and I see that she was
trying to change her pad by herself. She didn't want to wake me or maybe she just didn't want to be a burden. Either way,
I smile at her and lift her onto the toilet.
"You're a good girl." I whisper, tracing a circle on her arm. "You're such a good girl."
The tears ripple along the skin of her cheeks, but I soothingly wipe them away. I repeatedly remind her that everything is
okay, that I'm not going to hurt her. As much affection as she always shows, there is a place in her heart that still fears
me. She never knows what will spark an outlash from me. Understandingly, my anger scares her. I rub her arm up and
down softly, watching how her face slowly relaxes until her lips curl up slightly.
I grab her a wet washcloth again and hand it to her, turning my attention to the soiled sanitary napkin in her underwear. I
have to force my lungs to keep taking deep breaths in order to deter me from the blood. It's testing me, begging me to
give in, but I fight right back. Elena allows me to slide her panties off and I try not to look at all the blood. The more I rebel
from the temptation, the dizzier I begin to feel. The vertigo causes the world to spin, but I hold on to the counter for
balance, refusing to relinquish to my vampiric instincts. Eventually, I wrap the thing in toilet paper and throw it into the
trashcan as fast as fucking possible.
I let out a long withheld breath of relief, throwing the panties into the sink and turning on the faucet. The water dilutes the
scent immediately and I'm completely relieved at this moment. Whew...glad that's over with. I'll have to get another pair of
underwear out of the bag for Elena, and as much as I dread having to repeat the pad installation process, I just want her
to trust me, and so I do it without protest. But fucking still, installing a TV is much easier than installing an adhesive pad.
I'm an expert now and my verdict is...leave it to the professionals, people. If you need your pad installed at any time, call
me!
When all is said and done, Elena and I walk hand-in-hand to the kitchen. As shitty as she feels right now, I hope to cheer
her up a bit with some dinner, anything to get her out of the bed. I want her to experience the world of fine cuisine. I mean
if I had my own business, it would be world famous, of course. People all over would watch the television in awe. 'This
program is brought to you by the Salvatore Kitchen. With a name like Salvatore, it has to be good.' I would wink into the
camera and an hour later, a stampede of women would be pushing their way in to taste what I have, on multiple levels. I
hum a chuckle softly, searching the fridge for something to prepare.
Cooking reminds me of when Sybil and I used to sneak into the kitchen to cook together on the days the slaves were
busy polishing the silver. We didn't know anything about cooking when we started, but by the end of her life, we felt we
knew everything worth knowing. We were used to the slaves' cooking at our beck and call, but Sybil and I wanted to
explore it for ourselves, discover how those women got the grits so creamy or how the pies were baked to perfection.
When Sybil got sick, she stopped discovering with me, but I never gave up the hobby. I would still sneak in to cook, using
Sybil as my guinea pig for new recipes. She was honest, and I loved that about her. Quickly, I snap out of the memory
and grab some green vegetables, instead.
Next, I pull Elena to where the counter is, standing her in front of me. I take her hands and guide them to the ingredients
I've set there, using her as my little puppet. She doesn't mind at all, belting out in laughter when we begin chopping a
head of spinach leaves. My chest presses against her spine, but she leans back as if I'm a chair, smiling and trying to
look up at my hidden blue orbs. I throw more vegetables onto the cutting board and manipulate her fingers to grip the
knife as she chops. Before long, I let go and turn to grab a pan and some oil, whipping back around. We throw all the
ingredients in, adding a little oil first, of course. Elena follows me over to the stovetop, standing in front of me again. My
lips are right beside her ear and I softly encourage her.
"Good, Elena," I whisper, softly guiding her wrist to stir the vegetables on the heated pan.
They sizzle, but I'm almost convinced that it is from how close our bodies are. I can feel how warm her body is. Moments
later, my fingers gently pull her long locks behind her shoulder before the strands can dip into the cooking food. She
smiles a little, again leaning her entire weight against my chest. I sway us slowly side to side, humming some awfully
catchy tune from memory. We both laugh at my failed attempt and then I turn the burner off, seeing as everything is
cooked and succulent. My hand reaches for the radio, turning it on, and skimming through the stations. I stop when I see
Elena smile ever-so-slightly.
'Itty Bitty Pretty One' by Thurston Harris. I remember that upbeat fucking song from back in the 50's or 60's. Elena's eyes
light up when I let it continue to play, and then something I do not expect happens. I grab her hand and twirl her around
the kitchen. She is so light, that it's like dancing with a ragdoll. I pull her right against my body and bounce us around to
the upbeat rhythm, watching how she can't stop laughing and screaming in glee.
I shake my perfect ass from side to side, before grabbing her waist and spinning her around in my arms. My fingers
entwine with her right hand and I sway the two back and forth to the beat, my lungs shouting the words above the music.
All I hear is this angel's endless laughter, smiling and glowing in pure amusement. She is so beautiful, so fucking
beautiful. Her cheeks blush a warm pink, and although she tries to hide it, she's been caught by my preying eyes.
"Woahhhhh oh oh," I bop, "Little bitty pretty one, come talk to me."
We're galloping around the expanse of the kitchen, shaking our heads simultaneously to the beat. I've got moves, ladies
and gentlemen. This white boy can fucking dance. I hold Elena's hand, throwing her away from me and then reeling her
back in until she crashes against my chest. We are both heaving and I can feel her warm breath fanning my face. Those
chocolate brown eyes are looking up at me, intensely locked with mine. We're frozen like that and neither can bear to pull
away. She looks down at my lips momentarily, reuniting her gaze with my eyes seconds later.
Still, the action makes my heart race. Her lips are so close, inching towards mine. My breathing hitches and as much as
her lips are beckoning for me, I can't do it. There's a place in me that's not ready, maybe afraid of this girl, of what comes
with loving her. After all these years, I can't love someone, I just can't, and so I step back from Elena until our bodies no
longer touch. She stands there alone, smiling and gasping for air, unaware that I almost kissed her, that I almost let it
happen. She may see the good in me, I may not be a monster in her eyes, but I can't change what I am.
I am a monster, Elena, and monsters are not capable of love.
Author's Note: Thank you very much for reading and reviewing and supporting and just being amazing!
Chapter Recap:
1) Damon discovers the girl that grew up in the forest is completely hairless
2) Elena gets her monthly visitor, but in a way, they bond over it (haha! Sounds weird!)
3) Damon struggles with conquering the good ole maxi pad! (my brand of pads has instructions on the back...thought I'd
use them for something useful!)
4) They spend the day in bed together watching movies
5) Damon cooks dinner with Elena before spontaneously dancing with her
6) They almost kissed, but Damon still feels guilt and fear with loving Elena. He allows himself to care about her, but not
'love' her
Until next time, I hope you enjoyed! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 10*: Chapter 10
Author's Note: Thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter! Also thank you to Ashley, one of my friends
who left the site, for reviewing as a guest! It meant so much! xoxo Ren
P.S. Extra long chapter for all of you!
During the nine days that come and pass, I rigorously enforce hour after hour of basic English demo DVDs. They teach
the most rudimentary concepts of everyday objects, people, numbers, manners, and even verbs with stupid fucking
pictures to accompany them. Verbs are incredibly important. I want, I see, I like, I hate, etc. It is the basis of
communication between us, the only way that allows me to fully understand her feelings. And so, for every two hours of
the lessons she watches, I allow one movie of her choosing. I mean, am I being that fucking mean about it?
Sometimes I'll sit down and watch them with her, nodding in encouragement or pointing to a real-life example of what
they are depicting. Even so, the whole sign language thing has been a handy little fucker, especially while she is still
learning. Nowadays, I point to everything, I mean fucking everything, and name it out loud, expecting her to repeat the
word. Still, I can't say this has all been without whining, crying, or temper tantrums.
One morning I had prepared her a salad and a bowl of oatmeal. I held them out to her while she sat at the kitchen table,
gesturing to each and pronouncing them for her. I wanted her to tell me which she wanted to eat by using her words, not
just by pointing. But sweet little Elena didn't want to play along anymore with my 'name' game. She was tired of being
expected to learn a language she had no idea how to speak. Maybe she was frustrated or just tired from a rough night of
sleep, but either way, she made sure to let me know.
"Salad," I held it up before lifting the other bowl in my hand, "Oatmeal."
She kept pointing to the oatmeal, grunting impatiently when she noticed I wasn't moving from my spot. I shook my head
and repeated the statement, waiting for her to catch on.
"Use the words I taught you, Elena," I told her firmly. "I want"
"I w-want," She stammered, "Oat-"
Her voice suddenly cracked and she planted her forehead on the kitchen table in defeat, sobbing in frustration. Of
course, I was losing my patience with her, but I can only imagine how baffling learning a language can be, one you're
surrounded by all the time, but makes no sense. I placed the bowls down on the counter and stepped over to Elena,
squatting beside her chair. My fingers curled under her chin, pulling her face up to look at me. The tears had already left
their mark on her cheeks and I took a deep sigh.
"Oatmeal," I repeated.
Her eyes hesitantly looked at me and when they finally did, they were a murky brown, far from her usual chocolate orbs.
I'm not sure if she was afraid of my sternness or if she feared that my short fuse would burn up any minute. Whatever the
reason, her quivering lips moved to form words, and my hold on her chin loosened ever-so-slightly.
"Oat-mail," She mumbled, allowing another tear to trickle down her face like a bead of sweat after a workout.
My face softened finally, and I quickly returned to the kitchen counter to pick up the bowl of oatmeal. She ate in silence
that morning, spooning the bland grain into her mouth, drenched in the flavor of her tears.
Today is better. I see an improvement in her English vocabulary, even in the way she pronounces them. We give names
to everything we do: 'potty' and 'sleep' and 'eat' and 'bath' and 'movie'. I mean, they are not very exciting titles, I'll admit it.
They are boring and lack originality, but calling sleep 'dreamland' or 'cuddle time' is convoluted and too fucking hard to
remember. I'm over 150 years old. I have to be able to remember these terms, too.
I try not to be too demanding of her, but as snow begins to sprinkle the earth, it's a sign that time has passed, that the
world has moved on without us. I'm tired of her endless tears when I can't understand what she wants or feels. The way
her eyes become wet, black pits when she points to something and I just shake my head in confusion. She then sobs
into my shirt and mumbles my name until her lips give up their fight. When she finally relents, her body always collapses
against my chest and I hold her in my arms and stroke her face softly.
Presently, her eyes are dry wells while she gazes at the television curiously, keeping her concentration on the narrator.
The woman talks in a childish, condescending tone that irritates the fuck out of me. Is that how they keep the baby's
attention while they watch these? I mean, these are made for babies, not teenage girls. Still, Elena doesn't realize that,
and really it is for the better.
"I cold," She whimpers at some point.
"I am cold," I correct.
"I am cold," She says softly, the words thick and far from what I would consider an American accent.
I grab her a blanket, casually gazing out the window at the swirling of white snowflakes. Snow like that is nomadic it
seems, never settling or planting itself in a particular place. They have no true home, kind of like me. This house is far
from a home, rather an estate far too grand for one man. I notice that the grass is a pale green, repelling the snow and
refusing to give up its fight for a view of the fucking sky. I scoff. By this time of year, when the weather shifts to a cold,
dreary temperature, I go off to some tropic island, sipping on coconut cocktails and sun-kissed babes. I guess oatmeal
and a clingy teen girl have replaced those treasured beauties.
"Oh, the good old days," I sigh.
The day continues to pass slowly. In some ways, I believe that this bout of despondence may be the result of withdrawal.
As much as I care about Elena and her well-being, the repetition, the crying sessions, and the endless movies are all
that fill my days. There is no thrill, no excitement or danger or adrenaline. To be honest, Elena is all I have, for good or for
bad. I'm tired all the time, and the two of us have been up since five this morning after another round of frightening
nightmares had invaded her sleep.
The Macy's Thanksgiving Parade is coming to an end, but Elena is as in love with it as the beginning. The singing, the
giant balloon creatures, and maybe even the cheering crowd get her all riled up. She laughs and shouts my name.
'Daymond, sit'. Then the cell phone rings, and my eyes turn to my jean pocket curiously, ignoring the distant pleas of an
overly excited girl.
"Damon, where are you, my friend? Did you forget what day it is?" Enzo laughs in my ear, his British accent playfully
humming as usual.
Holy fuck. It's Thanksgiving, yes, but I completely forgot what else this day brings. And no, not the Thanksgiving you
humans have. Same day, different reason. It's a time where Enzo and his buddies get together for a blood fest. We
vampires don't want to be left out of a holiday celebration. The increasing coldness of the weather in a Virginia November
coaxes this yearn for extra blood, I guess. What better than making a party of it? Skip the fucking pumpkin pie and get me
a blood bag.
"I have a girl-" I begin to say.
"Well bring her over," He snaps jubilantly, cutting me off before I can get another word out. "She can hang with Caroline
and her friends."
"She's-" I try to explain.
"Get your ass over here, Damon. The blood bags are waiting," He says to me before hanging up.
Why does everyone have to fucking do that? Such rudeness. I groan a little. It's good to get Elena out of the house, right?
She's been holed up and I sure as fuck have been holed up, too. She's not Anne Frank. Do I really want to encourage an
antisocial party pooper? Luckily, there are women there for Elena to meet. Female influences are always good for a new
resident of the real, modern world. I plop down next to Elena as she had initially wanted me to do. My arms pull her to my
chest and she giggles. Finally, I kiss her forehead gently before helping her up.
"We're going out," I tell her with a grin.
I lead her upstairs so that I can get her dressed and looking less like roadkill and more along the lines of innocent
psychopath. Maybe even give her an axe as a prop, but, wait... Halloween has long passed. Oh fuck it. Possibly this
costume idea could be used next year. Hopefully by then she can speak her mind. Whether I like it or not is a different
question.
My fingers tear a brush through her tangled locks, while she steps into one of her more formal dresses. Her bare back
stares blankly back at me, waiting to be zipped into the fabric, but all I can notice is that tattoo on her neck. Somewhere in
me believes that if I gawk at it long enough, I'll figure out what it means, and suddenly I'll solve this enigma I call 'Elena'.
To my disappointment, no epiphany hits me and so I return to reality.
Eventually, I zip up the dress until the stunning red cloth hugs her in all the right places. It is unsurprisingly knee length,
as Elena made clear that it should be at the store. The dress is cinched at the waist and fans out around her thighs,
which pulls my eyes down to her immaculate calves. She catches me staring, but how can I not when she is so
breathtaking? Skittishly, I snap my eyes away and tell her to go 'potty'. She understands the key word, stepping toward
the toilet while I move to change into something more appropriate for this so-called party.
When we finally leave the fucking house, it has been over an hour. I can't find the keys to the car for a good twenty
minutes and then Elena begins to cry when she realizes that we are leaving. Memories of my abandonment come
flooding back into her mind, sadly. I get down on my knees and nearly beg her. I make promises about movies and
safety and hugs, anything to convince her that I will never give her up again. Using the thirty-something English words
she is now familiar with, I somehow manage to get her into the car.
I can tell how nervous she is by the way she fiddles with the hem of her dress. The radio fills the silence between us, but
no amount of noise could possibly drown out the echoed pounding of her heart. Luckily the ride is only about forty five
minutes and the car pulls into Enzo's familiar driveway. There are plenty of other vehicles situated in front of the historical
and grand house, white pillars drawing our eyes up to the vastness of this place.
"Daymond," She whines beside me, gripping the leather seat. "I scared."
"You're safe with me, baby," I say softly.
As if those words are the key to her obedience, she opens the car door and steps out before running around the car so
that when I get out, she can wrap her lanky arms around me. I grab her hand and we walk up to the front door, which is
left unlocked as expected. Probably not a good idea to walk uninvited into someone's house with Elena watching, but I'm
not going to be fucking awkward and wait to be greeted, something that could take hours with Enzo.
Loud chattering fills the vicinity from where we stand in the foyer, but soon enough I can put the voices to some faces.
Male and female vampires are scattered all over, standing with wine glasses filled with blood, others simply sipping
from blood bags. No more than a few steps into the grand formal living room, I hear a memorable voice yelling for me.
Our eyes simultaneously snap to Enzo, seated on the vintage red loveseat with another male vampire to his right. No,
that's not his boyfriend if you're fucking wondering.
"Damon!" He shouts, even when I am standing directly in front of him. "I must say, your taste in women has never been
anything less than superb."
"This is Elena. She's not a snack, got it?" I say firmly.
Still, I know Elena is safe here. All around us are other vampires with their companions and human toys. Not to mention,
my badass Elena can take care of herself when it comes to defense. This party is not full of ruthless vampires, not like
me. Being friends with Enzo is the only reason I'm even considered on the guest list. Here, no humans are harmed.
Blood is stolen from blood banks, nothing more.
"Damon, Caroline would never let me harm-" He begins, but his pupils stare past me. "Speak of the devil."
I turn to see what his eyes are so struck by, and of course, his girlfriend Caroline is walking toward us. Her face lights up
when she notices Elena clinging to my arm, nearly running the rest of the way. Enzo rolls his eyes, but smiles at her
lovingly.
"Damon. Who. Is. This?" She asks while standing on the tips of her toes anxiously.
"This is Elena. She's special and not to be harmed," I again make clear to them.
"She needs to hang out with us girls. We're doing hair and makeup." It's not really as if she's asking, but rather telling me
that she is taking Elena with her.
"Elena doesn't speak English, Caroline."
"Um...these hair pins are the universal language," She chuckles, showing them to Elena, who is currently shielding her
face with my arm.
I'm surprised when Elena's eyes grow in awe at the metal hair pins, with their trashy gems encrusted into them. I roll my
eyes, but at least Caroline can communicate with her through something, even fucking hair jewelry. I've known the
blonde and her British beau for years. She was far from what I expected Enzo to fall in love with. Unlike him at the time of
their meeting, she only drank from bags and was some fucking 'pro-human life advocate'. As all women do to men,
Caroline changed Enzo, got him on this cruelty-free diet, though all he does anymore is complain about it.
I kiss the top of Elena's head and whisper for her to follow the female vampire. Those wild brown orbs look up at me with
a smile, and before I can even blink, she's walking with Caroline to wherever they are going. Reassuringly, I can listen to
what they're doing from my place in the livingroom. I will know if Elena is upset or scared or being hurt in any way through
supernatural hearing. Enzo shakes his head and chuckles at his lover.
"Damon, we have coolers over there filled with blood bags, any flavor you like. The most popular of the night is AB
negative. It's like the caviar every guest feels they need to gobble down just because it's rare and shit. It's like they need
to feel reimbursed for giving me their time. Greedy fuckers at this party, you know?" He laughs.
I smirk a little, quickly grabbing my fucking blood bag party favor and plopping down beside him. I throw my head back
and take a deep breath, relieved to be out of the confines of the boarding house. I hear Enzo chuckle and I try to rub the
awkwardness away immediately. He then introduces me to his other friend, whom only stops through the town every ten
to twenty years. All three of us recap our lives, all the hilarious and bloody tales and of course, the amazing things
compulsion can do for vampires. Every once in a while I tune out and listen to the girls upstairs. Caroline shouts to
someone about more hairspray or complains that there isn't enough sparkle. I have to keep myself from chuckling.
"So Damon, how long have you been fucking that foreign girl?" Enzo smirks, but wow, it's like a stake going right through
my abdomen.
"It's not like that," I spit angrily.
"Damon Salvatore hasn't sunk his cock into a girl he has known for more than five minutes?" Enzo laughs, encouraging
his other friend to join in with him. "Someone alert the media."
I have to keep myself from wrapping my fingers around his throat and chucking him through a window. It hurts when
people's assumptions about you are all they have as a basis. Even if you try to change, people will always associate you
with what you used to be. In my case, knocking up any girl that so much as looked at me was who I was. With Elena, I
could never imagine doing that to her, not like I had before. It would never be just sex. Still, pushing myself away from
loving Elena is how I am also protecting her. And so if protecting her requires no love, then I'll never need to know what
making love to her feels like, never yearn to touch her like that.
"I would never do that to her," I say in almost a whisper.
"You care-" He begins to say, but not before Caroline begins giddily shouting her excitement from across the room.
I look up and Elena is beside her, but she looks different. Her hair has been curled so that the locks drape around her
head like a curtain, sparkly pins holding the waves to sit delicately along her scalp. Her brown eyes have been defined by
a dark pencil and eyelashes that looks like butterfly wings taking flight when they flutter in my direction. She smiles
enthusiastically, her red pout compelling my attention to her lips. She looks absolutely incredible. I stand up and take her
hands in mine, gazing down at her captivating brown orbs.
"Daymond like?" She asks me.
"Beautiful," I whisper in awe.
"Beautiful?" She questions in confusion.
"It means 'very, very good'," I emphasize, cupping her cheek in my palm.
There is a long pause, but her face takes on a serious impression suddenly. She looks directly into my eyes, moving her
hand up to touch my face.
"Daymond is beautiful," She says very seriously, dragging her index along my jaw bone and tracing it lightly.
In this moment, I see a woman, an intelligent, nurturing woman. She's not a child in there. The maturity in the way she
says certain things is helping me to see her true age. It's as if the gift of words is allowing her to express her feelings,
because it without a doubt is. Elena knows what love is, what caring for someone requires. She might have fallen in love
back where she came from, and I may someday learn that from her own lips. This mysterious girl has an entire life
locked away in her mind, still not meant to be unveiled to me. I could remind her of her dead lover, and be nothing more
to her. The thought almost breaks me inside.
"I had to use my expensive all-natural, organic makeup on her. She sure has some spunk. This doll fought me for it,"
Caroline laughs and I can't help but laugh, too.
The two vampires look at me in shock, as if a second head has fucking blossomed from my neck. My chuckle settles
down and I clear my throat awkwardly. Luckily, the sound of a belting piano catches Elena's attention and I can
concentrate on that instead of this gaffe. Again her eyes light up, curious and captivated by the warm tones of a piano
somewhere in the house.
"Does she like music?" Caroline asks.
"I'm not sure about the piano," I say softly, gazing down at Elena to see if I notice anything to validate the claim.
Before I can even speak, Caroline has whisked Elena away. I sit back down beside Enzo and take a sip of my blood bag,
patiently waiting for some party confetti to shoot out of it. I'm glad Elena's having fun, but fuck it, I'm not. After all the
people I have encountered, it seems Elena is the only one that doesn't judge me, or at least doesn't judge me for what I
am not. She doesn't have a preconceived notion of what I should be. As they say, it is better to be hated for what you are,
then to be loved for what you are not. Elena genuinely loves me for what I am, and that, my friends, is rare as fuck.
"I saw the way you talked to her Damon. You really-" Enzo says.
"I care about her," I make clear. "Not love, just care."
"She cares, too," He comments.
"I know," I say in a dull tone.
It's because I know this that I am afraid. I have this fear of hurting her, breaking her, making her something she was
never destined to be. She may be the epitome of innocence, but innocence can be taken away, tainted. What if while
she's changing me, I'm ruining her, so slowly that no one realizes it? The sound of a short tune vibrating the floor
beneath my feet coaxes me to stand. I know it's Caroline and Elena, Caroline whooping encouragingly as Elena mimics
the notes hesitantly.
I leave Enzo without looking back, making my way to another living area where a black grand piano sits in the corner. The
fireplace is unquestionably grander than the piano, but fuck, what a nice piano it is. Elena and Caroline sit side-by-side
on the black leather bench, smiling and giggling. I lean against the doorframe and watch. It is a beautiful sight. Elena
looks happy and thank goodness for a vampire like Caroline. Most of the year, she and Enzo travel the globe, only
coming back to visit her parent's gravestones and celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas near the city she had spent
her human childhood.
Caroline never turned her humanity off, not once. Even so, she never disclosed how she became a vampire or why or if
she wanted to. Everyone around me, myself included, are full of secrets, and the mystery behind us makes it all the more
exciting. My lips curls up into a grin as I watch. Could I ever be good enough for Elena? Something inside me tells me to
at least try. And so I walk up behind them slowly before tapping the blonde on the shoulder. She looks up and her fingers
freeze.
"May I play?" I ask and all Caroline can do is smile, hopping up off the bench like a fucking bunny on ecstasy.
Elena's eyebrows slide up her forehead until they are so high that it seems they are being stretched like two wooden
bows. I smile and sit down, keeping my eyes on the keys beneath my fingers. Playing the piano isn't new to me. My father
paid for me to take lessons, but after only three years, I gave it up. I was like twelve when I stopped, believing piano was
for sissies. During the time, I learned a few songs, and surprisingly I can still play some of them. I'm a little rusty, but
Elena is mesmerized by the sound, not the accuracy. She's not a picky person, bless her.
My angel is pooped. All the laughing and smiling and living just exhausted her to the core. Caroline was sad to see us
leave, but wow, too much fucking talking for my taste. Hopefully Elena isn't a chatter box inside there. There is only so
much a man can take. Enzo can have all the brownie points he wants. As much a dick as the vampire acts when she's
around, I know he loves Caroline when no one is looking, maybe even enjoys the endless sound of her voice.
Elena's body trembles beside me from the cold of the night, but I hold her hand reassuringly, drawing the pad of my
thumb over her cold fingers while cranking the heat of the car up to maximum. Sometime later, she pulls my hand up to
her lips and kisses the tip of each of my fingers. It's unexpected and sweet, but it's as if there's a string connected from
my fingers to my cock, every stamp of her lips sending an electrical pulse through me. Even the way she mumbles my
name between kisses pumps blood to my genitals, almost in an overwhelming wave. Holy fuck.
I sneak my hand away from her hold, plastering a fake smile to hide my discomfort. My heart is racing and fuck, I want to
pull the car over and kiss her beautiful lips. I want to succumb, forget the fact that I don't deserve her, that I am a monster.
This warm semblance between our bodies, it is captivating and tranquil and almost indescribable and it takes a good
five minutes to get my heartrate back down to 'human' range. The car ride is silent, but only if you don't count the rhythmic
beating of her heart, her beautiful, perfect heart playing like a melody in my ears.
Later that night, we sit on the couch, watching one of the learning programs. She actually asks me to watch them, even in
her state of exhaustion. She changes into a nightgown, but insists that she wants to keep her hair and makeup as is. We
both pay attention to the narrator teaching the basic parts of the body...and no...not the ones you are thinking, either.
"Daymond, teach," She whispers, climbing onto my lap and straddling me.
She runs her fingers through my hair, pulling it up into a ruin of black locks. She laughs and begins tracing my facial
features, trying to remember all the names that the woman on the screen had taught her. Sometimes I remind her when
she's lost or try to sound out a little until she finishes it.
"Nose," She says, skimming her finger along the slope.
"Good," I whisper, staring into her inquisitive orbs.
"Lips," She hums, outlining them so slowly and tickling every nerve.
"Good."
"Beautiful lips," She tells me, pressing her thumb to my mouth.
She stares at them for so long that I think she's fallen asleep with her eyes open, but finally they pull away. It feels like
she's swooping down to kiss me. Instead she sets her lips beside my ear.
"What hiss tis name?" She asks, pulling my hand to her heart, or it can possibly be argued that it is her breast.
"Heart," I whisper back.
"Hardt," She repeats in awe.
Without expecting it, she sets her hands on either side of my head. My brows furrow, but she smiles ever-so-slightly.
"I show my hardt," She hums.
Then she closes her eyes and seconds later my neck involuntarily snaps back just before the images suddenly appear.
Elena is trying to show me something, just another of her unusual abilities. And then I realize, she's not showing me a
movie, she's showing me her soul, everything that has made her who she is. I'm watching the night we met, she's
playing it all out to me, from the point of view of her chocolate brown eyes.
She's showing me what no amount of words could ever express, and I feel a chill run down my spine.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! Delena overload!
Chapter Recap:
1) Damon is really pushing Elena to learn English, but not without a few meltdowns!
2) It's Thanksgiving!
3) They go to Enzo's house for a blood party
4) Damon is seeing Elena more as an adult as her language progresses, and it is becoming harder to fight his feelings
for her
5) Elena is showing Damon a vision of the night they met
Thank you so much for reading and supporting! I love you so much! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 11*: Chapter 11
Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for being a wonderful beta! She went on vacation for a few
days and I was already delaying the writing of the next chapter with the chaos of school starting up again. By the time I
had it written and edited, it was way overdue! I'm sorry...but I really hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxo Ren
The full moon shines down on them with such intensity that I struggle to see clearly for a moment. There are about thirty
adults, all watching the deer they have come to gather around. Bambi, I suppose...warm brown coat with specks of white.
The onlookers' clothing is simple, only neutral hues, while many of the men are without shirts, as if the endless stretch of
tattoos can pass the modesty test. Man sluts, is my first impression. Geesh...put on some fucking clothes.
Even so, it's strange looking through Elena's eyes, I can't see her, only what is in front of her, like she's not there at all. My
mind watches as those familiar hands reach out to hold the deer's face gently in the wells of her palms. Bambi's large
orbs are calm and warm when they look up at her, almost captivated by her gaze. I don't think most animals ever look at
a person with such depth, not like this.
Moments later, I hear snapping noises, and when her eyes click up toward the spectators, I realize some of them are
digging their fangs into the animal's flesh. The people are not human, they are fucking vampires. As surprising as it is,
the deer's refusal to notice this is even more remarkable. The animal just stands there while they tear into her,
completely calm. Its eyes blink every ten or so seconds, unphased by the seemingly gruesome sport that goes on for
several more minutes. Then finally, the bloodsucking ceases and they step back, blood dribbling down their chins.
Elena gently moves her hands until they cup the creature's chest, one on either side of its heart. She whispers something
in that strange native language, watching in wonder as the deer calmly takes off for the woods, no cuts or bite marks on
its thick, brown fur, not a single one. It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my existence, the way that
this doe glistens beneath the moonlight when she departs. I wish the moment would have lasted even a few seconds
longer than it does.
The group disperses suddenly and Elena walks toward a small cabin made from what appears to be mud and twigs,
green and brown vines covering the place from top to bottom in an intricate weave. Three men stand outside the door,
whispering something to her as she passes them. Whatever it is, she giggles in that heavenly voice. When she steps
inside, it is a small bedroom surrounded by endless tree roots climbing the walls like snakes, covered in warm moss,
and even a small bird nest is perched beside her bed. It is a small space, but the blankets are piled high on the mattress
like a castle, as if that makes up for the rest of the place. Her body reclines onto them slowly until they engulf her body,
similar to a swaddled baby.
She looks at the door once more, listening to the soft whispers of the men protecting her outside. From what, I can only
imagine. And so she closes those warm orbs, surrounding my consciousness with darkness once again. It is dark for
several moments before the shouting and chaos begin to augment in volume, so much so that her eyes shoot open
alarmingly. Numerous vampires are scooping her up, pinning that worn brown cloth to her nightgown and frantically
shouting orders at each other.
By the time I even realize what is happening, a man with a full beard has her against his chest, running with supernatural
strength towards the woods. Elena is shouting something at the man and they are obviously disputing. Her eyes look
over his shoulder at the massacre, werewolves tearing vampires limb from limb. Many are on the ground writhing in pain
from what appear to be werewolf bites. They are as good as dead, and Elena knows it. It breaks my heart to realize that
the vampire who is carrying her refuses to let her go help, even as she shouts and fights in his hold. This man's job is to
make sure she survives, it was all of their jobs to protect Elena, sacrificing themselves for the survival of this emblem.
"Caius," She screams over and over, pounding her fists on his bare chest, toned and covered in tattoos. "Ni sjiiok"
His eyes stare straight ahead, even as his feet plummet to the forest floor and push off again and again. They are flying at
full speed down the steep slope of this mountainous region. Elena looks at him through blurry eyes to see his rigid
features and fearless gaze. His breaths are heavy, but he keeps pushing himself harder. A whimper escapes his lips
when the snapping of branches becomes harder and harder to ignore.
"Caius," Elena whispers, "Fgihmni"
He drops to his knees suddenly, allowing his legs to give out from underneath him. The leaves crackle along the ground
and an exhausted grunt heaves from his lungs. In the distance, Elena can hear the wolves approaching. Caius yells at
her, nudging for her to run. She hesitates, but nods, taking off down the seemingly endless slope of the forest. Her eyes
stare forward in determination, but the gentle sobs rumble within her throat from the anguish of this night.
And then Caius's screams ring out so sharply that my heart shudders. Elena sobs loudly after that and eventually she
forces her hand over her mouth to silence herself. And then she just keeps running and running and running. It feels as if
she has been running for days, the wolves loudly sprinting behind her, but finally, she stops. When she turns around,
they are there, only two of them. Blood drizzles from their jowls, reminding her of what they have just done. They growl at
her, but she throws her hands forward, slamming them onto their backs. In the time it takes them to pop back up, they
are not prepared for more.
Elena closes her eyes and concentrates. I hear whimpering and lots of pain in the darkness of her memory, not from her,
but from those fucking wolves. She briefly exposes her orbs, watching the dilapidated bodies of the wolves. They are still
alive, but not alive enough to get up and chase this girl for a good while. Then without a second thought, Elena is running
again and this time, there is an end. She finally emerges from the forest and, for fuck's sake, there I am, waiting to tear
my fangs into that man on the roadway. My eyes shoot up in pure shock and disbelief at her sudden presence, but before
the scene goes any further, the vision dies.
When I open my eyes again, I am back in my living room. Elena's hands are still pressed to my head, and I feel
disoriented, but almost in a surreal sense. It's only when I feel something wet splash onto my face that I realize she's
crying. My fucking heart breaks. She showed me her pain, her life, and everything that she lost that night. Her hands pull
away just before those familiar brown orbs meet mine.
"No more," She whispers solemnly, and I know that she means her family.
"I'm sorry, Elena," I softly say, wiping the tear from her cheek.
"I okay," She says softly before smiling.
Somehow nothing matters in that moment, as if the entire world has stopped spinning for us. My mind is overwhelmed
by her, by her compassion and strength. I know now, I understand the place she comes from, everything she left behind
to escape. Our eyes stay planted on each other until she gets up from the sofa. Elena walks up to the bedroom, but once
we're inside the room, I grab her hand in mine, pulling until she is against me.
There is so much pain in the world, but 99% of it is concealed within us. We pass each other every day never knowing
someone's story, never truly understanding why they are the way they are. Our judgements come solely from pride and
intolerance and naivety. When we believe someone is free of pain, we feel empowered to plow them over with our hatred
and our judgement. We've all done it at least once.
"Are you okay?" I beg, even though I know that she isn't.
"Yes," She whispers.
I stare into her eyes for validation, for the truth, for anything, but I can't read her. Eventually she steps back, looking up at
me for just a fleeting moment before slipping beneath the sheets of the bed. I watch her attentively as she turns her body
away from me. The room is silent and my eyes click up at the ceiling with a fucking sigh, maybe because all I want to do
is help her. I wait a few minutes before getting into bed beside her, and I don't dare touch her.
The next day, she is smiling and hovering my face when I open my eyes from a peaceful sleep. It's nearly impossible not
to smile back, and I cup her cheek in my hand softly. It is the best fucking way to start my day, I'll admit it, but I begin to
wonder if last night really happened. Has she already forgotten or is she really as okay as she told me last night? We get
dressed and eat breakfast as always, before heading over to the television. Everything seems to be as it was before, and
I truly don't mind it.
Elena doesn't know it yet, but I have a surprise for her, something I have been planning for a few days now. Those eyes
look up at me in pure excitement when I grab the car keys and take her hand in mine. We head out on the windy road
together, listening to some awful 90s hit and watching the clouds pass overhead. It is chilly as fuck outside, but
somehow the sky is a warm, summer blue with puffy white pillows stamped everywhere we look. Elena and I practice the
'name' game for most of the hour long drive. There is nothing relatively close to fucking Mystic Falls. I mean, the nearest
city is a good 45 minutes and you only go there if you want to stand in line for hour after hour of endless fucking fun at the
Department of Motor Vehicles.
The highways are packed today with thousands of people shopping for the upcoming Christmas holiday. I feel this urge
to run them all down with my car at full speed until they're nothing but ground beef between my tires. I scoff. The last time
I celebrated Christmas the way these fucks do was back in 1863, three years after losing Sybil. I smiled for my mother's
sake and decorated the tree with one of the slave girls who was too short to reach the top. It was one of the few times I
wasn't drunk and one of the last before I chose being a monster over hiding my misery.
I really want to teach Elena the word 'fuckers' and point to the numerous asshats that cut me off or honk at me as I speed
past them. More importantly, weaving in between cars as fast as I am cannot be good for a girl that just finished
breakfast, but for whatever reason, she just smiles and points at a bird soaring in the sky. The fucking thing should be
flying down south by now, to bask in the warmth, unlike this icy hell. He's just as fucked up as the rest of us, I guess.
When we finally pull onto the right exit ramp, I sigh in relief. Elena chuckles, resting her hand on top of mine. Luckily, the
place of my choosing is just about a mile down a long stretch of road. I pull in and park, relieved and no longer doubting
my decision to bring her. There is nowhere more thrilling than an aquarium. This one is massive, with a Ferris wheel
and even a dolphin show from 12-1 every afternoon, but it's too cold for either today. At first, Elena does not understand
the significance of this place, not until we step inside. The place is pretty deserted since the holiday season is
apparently much more important.
As soon as we saunter casually through the glass doors, her eyes grow to an unimaginable size. A painted mural of all
the sea creatures grouped together is the first thing we see, tall and bright in its appearance. Elena runs to it, skimming
her fingers along their painted forms. I am right beside her, stroking her hair and telling her the names of each animal.
The security guard rolls his eyes at us, probably questioning the mentality of this grown woman I'm with. I'll admit, I don't
fit in here, either. An aquarium is not the first fucking place to look if you're trying to find Damon Salvatore.
"Elena, let's go see them, okay?" I say softly, tugging her to the ticket counter.
Yeah, I would like a triple cheeseburger, hold the cheese, with a side of curly fries and a juicy carotid artery to boot. I scoff
when I see the prices. I'm not saying I can't afford the price of a fucking ticket, but damn, $25 for one lousy entry pass? I
ought to see a live dolphin birth and get to keep a starfish as a complimentary gift for how much I'm paying to be here.
Still, I smile and obligingly hand the money over to the woman, who obviously hates her life by the way she jams the
change back into my hand. Okey dokey...I should back away slowly and hope I don't lose an eye.
I walk with Elena across this stupid bridge thingy, the water below filled with fish and stingrays and all kinds of water-
burrowing amoebas that would gladly crawl into your bloodstream and eat your brain for lunch. She doesn't seem too
interested by them and so we keep walking, passing giant glass structures filled with water and exotic sea creatures.
Those catch Elena's attention almost immediately. She walks right up to the glass, pressing her hand against it.
"Whale," I whisper in her ear.
I am standing behind her, almost protectively, as if the beluga whale might smash through the barrier and gobble her up.
My hand finds her waist and I rest it there, barely realizing that my chest is so close to her. When she leans back ever-so-
slightly, I look down in surprise at her. She softly chuckles, but it isn't because of us, but rather the whale that is looking
at us on his side of the tank. He taps his head against the spot on the glass where Elena's hand is, twirling and opening
its mouth in an excited chant.
"Daymond," She chuckles, looking up at me. "Look."
I nod and kiss the top of her head encouragingly.
"I see, baby," I hum.
She pulls me down the long room of tanks to where the open tank of stingrays sits. There is a woman standing beside
them with a smile and I finally realize why. You're supposed to pet these things. I cringe at the thought of sticking my
hand into a creature's home with the word 'sting' in its name. That there should be a warning in itself to stay the fuck
away, but the anxious tug of Elena's hand is proving to be a challenge.
"Hello, here is the sign with all the rules about petting the stingrays, okay? They won't hurt you," She tells us.
I look up at the fucking sign. Sounds like we're at a damn daycare. 'Keep your hand flat. Don't do this. Don't do that. Let
them come to you. Blah blah blah.' I roll my eyes, but help Elena with what to do. I take her hand and reach it down into
the water, right along the edge of the tank like we're supposed to. We stand there for a moment before one of the flat sea
creatures swims toward us. Sadly, they resemble something I probably should not say out loud. Would you mind if I
coughed it to you or should I leave it to your imagination? Clue: I get excited when I see one. Although, I'm not as excited
for this little activity.
I feel Elena jump when it slides right beneath her hand, but then she belts out in laughter. Once she gets the process,
she slips her hand away and does it again. Somewhere in there, I join in, setting my hand on the top of the water near
the edge. There are ten or fifteen of these things swimming around and they continuously lap the circular tank over and
over until each brush themselves against the underpart of my hand. I cringe a little, not as enthusiastic as Elena. They
are slimy and cold and slippery. It's fucking gross as fuck.
"Damon, I want," She tells me with a smirk.
I gaze back at her like she's insane, but she just smiles and returns her eyes to the stingrays. We watch as they all ride
the sides of the tanks like they have wheels, zooming up and down them so that we can see their 'faces'. Now when I say
face, it is more like three slits: two eyes and a wide grin on the bottom of their disc-like bodies. I pull my hand away after
only a few minutes, shaking the water off and nearly running to the sink that requires you to wash after petting. Surprise,
surprise: you have to clean yourselves of their slimy fucking nastiness when you're done.
Elena is quick to follow, nearly skipping jubilantly over to where I stand at the sink. When we're finished, I thank the lady
as an example for Elena. She also repeats the word, maybe unsure of what it actually means. As we walk along again,
we pass parents with their children. Elena stares at them all in wonder. I can't be positive that she met any other children
where she grew up. To her, they are just mini people with screeching lungs and poopy underpants. At some point I have
to stop her from reaching out and trying to touch a little blonde girl in pigtails that stands beside her while we watch the
colorful fish in their tanks.
The room empties out soon enough and we look up at the ceiling at the same time, as if we both know that something
magical awaits us. The entire thing is made of glass, and the creatures watch us from above. It is incredible and
breathtaking and mesmerizing. Elena tips her head so far back that she nearly topples onto her ass. I laugh, grabbing
her waist and steadying her. She smiles and turns around to face me instead, so that when she looks up, we can both
admire the same view.
"Beautiful," She whispers.
I'm still looking up at the mega tank when she says it a second time, and soon her fingers find my jaw, angling it to look
down at her. My eyes find hers and I realize, she is talking about me, not the fish. She smiles, stepping closer until there
is no air between our bodies. I am frozen against her, those warm orbs pulling me into a deep trance that I can no longer
fight.
"Daymond," Elena hums my name, breathing the word against my lips so that I can taste it.
And then it happens, as if those eyes are beckoning me to capture her sweet pout in mine. I've never felt this way. It's
something I cannot even describe, but I know somehow that I want to kiss her. Just once at least, just to get a taste of
her cranberry lips fusing with mine. So, I do. I let our lips touch and mingle and nip. They are even softer than I had
expected, richer and creamier and warmer. Elena doesn't pull away, she smiles instead, gasping and mumbling against
my mouth. I move my hand to her cheek to show that I mean to be gentle, but she seems to already know.
I need to pull away, to give her time to breathe and maybe even to give her time to ask me what the fuck I am doing, but I
want more, I crave it like blood. Somehow I manage to take my lips off hers, waiting for her to cry or something.
Surprisingly, she smiles, moving her fingers up to her slightly puffy lips to feel them.
"Kiss," I whisper breathlessly.
"Kiss," She repeats.
We are still standing in the middle of the fucking aquarium, our bodies pressed together and our faces just inches apart.
Both of us are catching our breaths, but our eyes again lock intensely. The connection is so strong between us. Her
fingers entwine with my raven locks, driving me even more crazy with desire. I can feel my cock harden as soon as she
pulls me down to her and forces our lips to meet once again. This one is brief because I turn my face away seconds
later. If I allow this to go on any longer, it will not end well.
"Elena, turtles. Do you want to see the turtles?" I ask, noticing the sign just ahead, my eyes finding anything to pull us
from each other's hold.
"Okay," She hums, maybe disappointed or even confused.
The kiss has left my lips tingling, unlike anything I have ever felt. I just don't know if I regret it. If something feels good,
there's a strong chance it's bad for us. Even more, I'm not sure I could ever love Elena as she deserves. There will
always be that heartless monster fighting me for dominance. I'm not sure yet if love is worth changing for.
I seriously think I am going to have to adopt a baby seaturtle when I watch Elena hold one later this afternoon. The way
she looks at the animal makes my heart race, or maybe that is the aftermath of the kiss. Either way, I realize just how big
her heart is, so open and loving. I've never seen anything like it. Even one of the other visitors comments on the way
Elena holds the baby turtle with so much tenderness and compassion. She whispers to them in her native tongue as
she had with the deer in her memory she showed me. I take about a hundred photos on my phone, not that this
admission can drain anymore pride from me. Judge all you fucking like.
Afterwards, we stop for lunch at a picnic table in the parking lot. The oatmeal I brought for her is cold from sitting in the
car, but Elena loves her fucking oatmeal, so she eats it without question. After, we go back in, with a little compulsion
and my wicked good charm, of course. Elena just cannot get enough of the place. Everything we pass for the second
time is just as exciting for her as the first. She stares in awe, those beautiful lips parted ever-so-slightly. The kiss has
brought us closer together, but she hasn't brought it up again, maybe because she knows it is something sacred only
between us and no one else.
The public bathroom is interesting. I have to go into the women's bathroom with her, locking the door to keep everyone
else out. Not to mention how confused Elena is when she sees the toilet tucked away into a fucking crammed stall. I
leave it open so that she doesn't have a meltdown or start screaming bloody murder. When she is all done, she washes
her hands in the sink like I showed her, before skipping the hell out of there. It smells nasty, like thirty day old blood
rotting away in those sanitary napkin disposal bins. I nearly gag.
By the time we have gone through the aquarium a second time, it is around four. We both look at each other when we
reach the parnonas and smile simultaneously, as if to say 'let's get the fuck out of here'. There is less traffic on the way
home and we zoom along to the Christmas station on the radio. I remember many of the slower hymn-like tunes from
my own childhood. I'll admit, I even sing along to one or two just to make Elena smile.
My new reason for living is to see her smile, to make her smile, and maybe even to kiss that smile just once more. Her
smile is what makes me feel whole.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for your support and love!
Chapter Recap:
1) Elena shows Damon her memories of the night they met (he discovers that everyone but her was a vampire)
2) The next day, Elena is back to normal. She seems to bounce back from emotional trauma quickly as in other chapters
(i.e. forgiving Damon)
3) Damon brings her to the aquarium, where they share their first kisses...Damon is still unsure about it.
4) Christmas is on its way
Love you all! I've already written almost all of the next chapter! xoxo Ren :)
*Chapter 12*: Chapter 12
Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter!
She sits on my bed, or should I say 'our' bed, to watch one of her princess movies for the millionth time while I am in the
bathroom. I haven't taken a shower in a few days and yes, vampires need to fucking bathe too or else they begin to smell
like shit, and no way in hell will I allow myself to get that far. And so I quickly shower, scrubbing myself until I come to a
squeaky clean finish. I spend most of the time in that room thinking about Elena and that steamy kiss. Why can't I just let
myself have her? Why am I fighting?
Could I kiss her and keep my feelings separate? If I cup her cheek, can I promise myself I won't touch her anywhere
else? How far can I go before the grave I am digging for myself is too deep to escape? At any moment, I could lose her,
find out that her long lost mother wants her back. Any minute, she could decide that her feelings for me are just platonic,
nothing more. Then what? I feel so attached, yet if someone broke the wire between us, could I ever truly move on? I
keep telling myself that I don't need her, that caring is a vampire's fucking weakness, but I feel alive around her,
completely and utterly alive.
Then I have to consider the fact that she is too young, too naive to love me. She would only learn to love a monster. What
if our philosophies are too unalike to live in harmony? Her soul is pure, mine is gone altogether. I wish I could just hear it
from her lips. I want her to tell me that she only kissed me back out of confusion, maybe even out of pity. There are so
many things to consider and I'm just not sure that loving Elena will do anything to benefit either of us. For now, I will make
her smile and I'll kiss her and I'll wait for the day she stops my lips and tells me 'no more'.
And so I fucking sigh and throw on some pajama shorts. My fingers push the bathroom door open slowly, and when I
look up, Elena doesn't notice me. I stare at her curiously from where I stand, wondering what the hell she is doing on the
bed. Her dress is up around her ribs, so that her belly shows. Weird as fuck. I keep watching and realize why. Her fingers
are pinching the skin, seeing how much of it she can grab between her thumb and index. I take a step forward and notice
the Playboy magazine beside her on the mattress. No, no, no. Do not compare yourself to them, I want to scream to her.
"Elena," I say softly instead.
She finally looks up at me in surprise. Her fingers immediately pull away from her abdomen, nearly throwing her dress
down over it. The magazine is still next to her, but she knows that I know. There is no use left in hiding that. When I crawl
onto the mattress, she winces slightly and hides her face from me out of embarrassment. She knows she shouldn't be
touching my stuff, but I'm not angry with her, not one bit. I pull her into my lap gently and kiss her between the eyebrows.
"You are beautiful, Elena. So, so beautiful," I tell her.
The magazine is already in my hand when she translates my words in her mind. I point to some disgusting slut on one
of the pages.
"Bad," I whisper, drawing an X on the page.
Then I rest my hand on Elena's flat abdomen and softly say 'good' in her ear. She smiles at me and nuzzles the column
of my throat with her nose. I run my fingers through her hair and tell her over and over that she is good, that she is perfect
just as she is. The moment even forces me to admit that I find Elena attractive, that I would rather kiss her lips than
some big titted whore with her legs already spread. I'm just sad that she found the magazine. Now she believes that
girls like that are what all women should look like, that men only want those qualities. I rip the magazine up right there in
front of her, tearing the pages out and shredding them with my fingers. She smiles a little, luckily, and I throw the pieces
onto the floor in triumph.
"Daymond happy?" She smirks.
I cup her cheek and stare into those beautiful doe eyes just before I get lost in them, just before I yearn to kiss those lips
again. My hands allow her to recline onto her back until she is flat against the mattress. She looks up at me with a
genuine grin and unexpectedly begins to laugh. I brush my fingers through her long locks, gazing down at that
breathtaking angel with a crooked smirk. My lips press against hers for just a few seconds, but it's all she needs to
mumble my name like it's the first time she has seen me in years.
"Very, very happy," I hum, kissing her for another time.
She giggles softly beside my ear until I am literally carrying her downstairs in my arms. I grab a fluffy blanket and a scarf,
wrapping her in them. I'll admit that I didn't have the decency to buy her a winter coat while we were at Target. I don't recall
there being any so early in the autumn season, but I could be wrong, and if that's true, then I will accept your snide
fucking remarks. Elena doesn't seem to mind, though. As soon as I step into the backyard, she is bouncing up and down
in my hold excitedly.
She doesn't care that I'm using oven mitts as winter gloves, a scarf as a turtleneck, and a freaking blanket as a makeshift
jacket. I set her on her own two feet and she immediately takes off running, throwing herself into the snow banks that
have formed. The fluffy, white stuff is up to my knees. I feel bad for all those sad short people that went outside for a walk
and never came back because the snow was just too high. Disheartening story, really. I look down for a second, just to
check for the bodies of those lost souls, maybe see an imprint of their short silhouettes in the snow or something. Okay,
now I'm being an asshole. You got me.
I suddenly feel something wet and cold on my face. I peel the frosty mixture from my skin, realizing that I have just been
hit with a fucking snowball. I look over at Elena, who is presently forming balls of snow with her mind. Lazy, if you ask me.
I bolt toward her, screaming at her with a smile so wide that it stretches from one side to the other. Elena screams back
playfully, running off across the backyard. She drops the oven mitts, but keeps sprinting toward nothing in particular. I
catch her pretty quickly, grabbing her around the waist in an instant. She flies up into the air when I snatch her, her legs
still mimicking the action of running.
"I got you," I shout, spinning her around and around and around.
I kiss her frozen cheek, rosy red from the cold of the day. The snowballs are now just a moosh on the ground, no longer
being controlled by this magic little angel's mind. I kiss her repeatedly, loving the rare coldness of her skin against my
lips. She can't stop laughing and heaving and yelling at me. Finally I let her go, but she just falls to the ground, nearly
pulling me with her. Once I realize what she wants, I surrender and join her in the deep snow.
"Angel," She laughs, swiping her arms and legs to form an angel in the snow.
"You are my angel," I tell her, kissing the tip of her nose. "So, let's go warm up, angel."
"No," She shouts, even though she is shivering.
She begins building little statue people out of the snow, lining them all up. Before long, a grand snow house pops up
along with what I think are supposed to be trees. The figures, more like distorted blobs, are almost a foot tall each, and I
can see how numb her red fingers have become. They are trembling, but she just smiles through it, continuing to build
her little fantasy. I watch her carefully, attentively. She points to all the figures to her left.
"People," She says softly.
Her fingers then move to her right where there are only two people. She smiles at them.
"Daymond and Elena," She laughs, pushing them closer together.
Elena turns her face to look at me and I smile at her, even though my mind begins to wonder why we're separate from
the other 'people'. Are those all the ones she lost? Is she proving that I am all she has left?
"Name?" She asks in whisper, pointing to our dilapidated snow silhouettes.
At first I don't understand, but she pushes the two figures together until they touch, then pulls her hand up to her heart. Is
she asking what I think she is? Asking for the word that I refuse to let myself say?
"I feel." Her lips twitch slightly.
There is a pause, as if the word can't come out. I promised I wouldn't say it, not here in front of her. I feel vulnerable
suddenly.
"Love," I choke out.
"Love," She repeats, drawing out the sounds. There is a long moment of silence before she speaks again, "Daymond
love?"
She pulls my hand to her face and my body instantly tenses. Her eyes are staring at me curiously, but it is almost in a
piercing way. I'm not sure what to say to her. Yes, I care deeply for Elena. I would only ever want to see her happy and
smiling, but there is a fundamental dichotomy between loving and caring. My heart is just not sure where it belongs. I
don't love her. How can I love someone when I have no love to even give?
I stand up, helping her to do the same. I don't answer her, but I swear I see her nod her head ever-so-slightly as if to say
she understands what I mean by the quiet dismissal. She smiles up at me, stroking my hand gently in her hold. Then we
run for the warmth of the house together, but I take a detour to grab the oven mitts she lost in our fun. After, we reach the
back door, stepping inside hastily for the heat we both crave. I pull all the extra clothing from her body, kissing her chilly
lips and chucking everything into a heap. Afterward, I quickly scoop her up in my hold and walk with her to the den. It is
warmer in there, but I know that a fire would be nice. The fireplace should be put to some good use about now.
But first, I make sure Elena is wrapped in as many blankets as I can find, laughing when I realize that she looks like a
small, overweight penguin, only her head poking out of the blanket mass. Why is she so fucking cute? I tear my eyes
away long enough to get the fire started, praying that I can remember how to do it efficiently so that I get a roaring flame. It
seems to work out okay. When I return with two mugs of tea, the fire is blazing perfectly. I can feel how intensely the heat
is radiating as I step closer. Even so, I look down at the mugs in my hand. I am not going to fucking drink this tea, but
hey, I enjoy being twinsies! Finally, I turn on Elena's movie for her, as if this stuff is her daily dose of calcium before
plopping down next to her with the tea in hand.
We sit like that, both mesmerized by the beautiful flames of orange and blue and yellow radiating from the vintage style
fireplace. At first we are just sitting one beside the other, but I pull her to my chest moments later, just wanting to feel her
against me. We sit like that for almost ten minutes before my fucking phone rings. I struggle to find it buried in my
pockets because all I want to do is sit here with Elena in peace. Is that too much to fucking ask? With a groan of
reluctance, I sit forward and answer the damn thing. My lungs sigh to make it obvious to the caller that I am annoyed out
of my wits.
"Damon. We need to talk," Bonnie begins in a mournful tone, "You're not going to like what I have to say."
"Just say it," I pressure her, moving to the other side of the room.
I stand there, pacing for a moment, trying to keep my voice down for Elena. Instinctively, I cross one of my arms over my
chest impatiently and tap my foot.
"I think we should meet in person. It's a lot to take in," Bonnie continues.
I'm becoming increasingly irritated with the witch. You can't fucking say 'we need to talk' and then drag it out for this
unreasonable amount of time. I throw my head back and groan.
"Whatever it is, just say it, Bonnie," I hiss, seating myself on the big red chair in the corner of the living room, where I
decide to pour some liquor into the tea mug. I take a sip and gag...it tastes like shit.
Is she aware that my throat is growing increasingly tighter? This psychiatric preparation she's giving me is beginning to
freak me out. I need to fucking know now. My nails are digging into the leather of the armrest anxiously. I watch Elena
attentively viewing her movie. She looks over briefly to smile at me. I smile back, and it's the fakest fucking smile I could
ever conjure up. I'm not sure if she realizes my bluff, but I pull my eyes away anyway.
"I talked to the witches. Many of them were more familiar with the legend and discussed it with me. Elena came from a
coven of vampires whose sole job is to protect their race. This protection lies in one human destined to stand as a
loophole for nature. These vampires live the same pure lifestyle as the human by abstaining from hurting any living
creature-"
"I know this already," I snap rudely whilst forcing myself to take breaths both in and out.
"Okay," She breathes in surprise, "Then you understand that Elena will not live forever. There's only one way to ensure
that the vampire race will continue on."
My heart drops a little. From the beginning I imagined a life of abstinence around Elena. Sex is supposed to take
innocence and taint it. We associate sex with impurity. Now, suddenly, it's going to be the only way to save all the
soulless demons roaming the earth. Do not say what I think you are going to say, I beg silently.
"Get on with it," I growl.
"Elena must conceive a child before the winter solstice of her 18th birthday, Damon. The witches believe this year is her
18th," She explains.
"The winter solstice is at the end of this fucking month-" I choke.
It has to be a fucking joke because the pain hurts so strongly. This conversation is going into such a dark corner, that I
cannot bear to consider what may lie within it. I am at such a happy place in my life with Elena, and this...this is breaking
me.
"I know," She says softly.
"Okay, so what do...I" My voice is shaking.
"That's the other thing. She must be impregnated by a vampire," Her voice lowers suddenly into a whisper, "Elena's
hymen can only be physically broken by supernatural strength to ensure that the offspring stays within the supernatural
realm. They know that werewolves would never want to continue the vampire race, leaving only the vampires as viable
donors. Elena's father was a vampire, but she is human, inheriting the human genes that her vampire father had when
he himself was a mortal and of course her mother's."
"Bonnie, no, no, no," I shout in denial. "Sex is impure. This is not the way."
I look at Elena, who is staring at me in confusion. I am yelling and having an emotional breakdown right in front of her. My
fist slams against the chair and she jumps a little.
"Sex is an innocent, natural act. I know this is difficult to absorb, but back where Elena grew up, they were aware of this.
They probably already had it all planned out before they were attacked, to ensure that Elena's bloodline would continue."
Caius is the first thing that comes to mind. He could have been the one doing the fucking honors. I feel sick to my
stomach, something I never feel. It's all disturbing. She's so innocent and sweet. Now she is being forced to have a
child. At least those vampires could communicate with her. How am I going to help her understand what I am doing? I
could lose her trust. Not to mention that this all has to be 'done' by the end of this month. One fucking month to help a
pure minded girl to consent to something completely foreign.
"This is fucked up," I spit.
"Damon, I can have someone else-" She tries to say.
"No. No one else is going to fucking touch her," I bark.
"I'm sorry, Damon. I don't make the rules," She whispers mournfully.
"Elena barely understands English, Bonnie. How do you-" I break down again. "And if I don't? What happens?"
"I think you know," She says softly, and I do.
This must be some form of a nightmare. Choosing between my race and what's morally right. Yeah...the vampire who
never gave a fuck now does.
"Will she be in pain?"
There is a long pause, a pause that is too fucking long to be reassuring.
"It takes a lot of force to break her, um, hymen so she may be in some...discomfort."
"Some fucking discomfort? What you mean to say is that it will be incredibly painful and I get to be the one to reassure
her that she's saving the fucking vampire race, right? I get to be the one to apologize and hold her down, right?" I accuse
cruelly.
"We can have another vampire-" She begins to say.
"No," I roar, slamming my head against the back of the chair repeatedly. "I get less than a month to"
I can't even say the words. I am mumbling and in utter hysteria. Have I not hurt Elena enough? Have I not been enough of
an ass? Now, I get to prove just that.
"This wasn't supposed to be your doing, Damon. I'm sorry that this has come down to you. Just remember that if you
change your mind, I can have someone else. You don't have to be-"
"A monster. Is that what you were going to say?" I hiss, hanging up the phone in fury.
Before I can even think, I am storming from the room. The phone smashes against the wall of the hallway as soon as I
let the thing slip from my fingers. Then, I scramble up the staircase with a bead of sweat trickling down my hairline.
There is so much pain in the way my lungs attempt to breathe. I can't do this to her, not to Elena. A sob finally escapes
me and I grab the dresser in my room for support.
My weary mind spends a long time drinking itself into oblivion on my oversized chair, until I feel numb, until the pain that
pounds against me ribs finally ceases. I close my eyes while I think and consider my options. Could I allow someone
else to do that to her? Could I direct some vampire to our bedroom and let them have their way with her? This can't be
the answer. It makes sense to keep the bloodline going, but why only until the winter solstice of her 18th year? I was just
beginning to allow myself to care about her, to give in to this aching need to be with Elena. I cannot go from kissing her to
hurting her like that. Maybe she already knows about sex, although I highly doubt it.
"Fuck," I whimper, snatching my hair and yanking on it.
Sometime later, I feel her on my lap. My eyes snap open to look at her, and her face is soft and understanding. Her
hands cup my face tenderly before those warm lips pepper my face with kisses. I grip the scotch glass like I'm holding
on for the sake of my life.
"I can't hurt you," I whisper pathetically.
She doesn't know why I'm upset, why I lashed out downstairs, but she tries to comfort me. Her arms wrap around me.
They encompass me with so much compassion, so much empathy, as if she feels everything I do. She is gently running
her fingers through my dark locks and just holding me, the way we all crave. And we stay like that for no finite amount of
time. There is no time where we are. We just are. The house is silent and empty and rather cold, and the snow is falling
outside the window panes of my room. It swirls and blurs as it settles on the ground, growing higher the longer we
remain inert on that chair.
Eventually I notice that her hand is right over my heart, feeling it pulse against her palm. She smiles and closes her eyes,
but watching her so at peace hurts me more. I'm going to ruin it. I'm going to force her to carry a baby, even if she doesn't
want to. I'm going to convince her that what I am doing is the way the world is, as if we're back in fucking 1860. She
doesn't understand enough English for me to even try to explain my actions. I close my eyes and hold her against me
tighter, listening to her soft breaths.
"Elena very, very happy," She hums after a while and I break a little more inside.
I wait nearly four days before I even consider 'trying'. I attempt to go on with life and deter Elena from believing otherwise.
We watch movies and cook and snuggle as always. I force myself to smile and laugh and help her with her English
demo videos. She spends so much of her time practicing and mimicking my words. It seems as though we sit in the den
for hours and enjoy the simplicity of each passing moment.
Today, there is a single ray of sunshine peeking through the cloudy sky. I stare at it from the window of the den. I've given
myself a few days to come to terms with what Bonnie said. She calls me numerous times and I simply ignore them all.
The voice messages that she leaves are to make sure that I am okay, but I'm not. Elena, on the other hand, plays with my
gold watch, tapping the glass with her fingernail. She seems so unaware of what the universe has planned for her, like
she's the only one not in on the fucking secret.
"Let's go to our room," I whisper softly in her ear.
I'll never be ready to do this, but time is not stopping, so I know I need to at least try. Like that sounds any fucking better. I
scoff at my own stupidity. Elena snatches my hand and follows me upstairs obediently. Her hair is wild and untamed
today. Somehow I love it, especially when I can brush my fingers through it while kissing her lips. It is soft and warm
when it rubs against me and I gently push it back out of her face to look at her. For now, I concentrate on the stairs
beneath our feet. When we step inside the room, I shut the door behind me until a soft click echoes.
I'm not sure if I shut the door to keep us inside or to keep the guilt out, but all I know is that my throat is tighter than a
duck's ass when I turn around to face her.
Author's Note: Evil cliffhanger...I know! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As you can tell, from this point on, the story will
become a tad darker with more drama and be less 'cutesy' and 'whimsical' in nature. In this story, 'dark' is not what you
think it will be. There will be no abuse or torture or anything remotely harming...it will just be a little more PG-13 or R .
Hold on for one wild ride!
BTW: Damon is not just going to lock them in the room and have his way with her. It will be a slow development and will
not take just one day.
Chapter Recap:
1) Elena finds Damon's porn stash
2) Damon is conflicted about his feelings for Elena and cannot even bear to say the word 'love'
3) They have fun in the snow without sufficient winter apparel
4) Bonnie divulges some very disheartening news about Elena's destiny
5) Bonnie's confession breaks Damon inside and he fights with himself on what he believes is the right decision
6) After four days, Damon will attempt to seduce Elena
As I explained to another reader, as Elena learns more English it will become increasingly apparent that she isn't a child.
Ending up in a place where you don't speak the language is very scary, and emphasizes the traits of a child because
there is a communication barrier. It makes Elena look childish, but she's not. She just cannot express her feelings, not to
mention that she is the epitome of innocence. Children are innocent, and thus Elena can be very similar to the traits of a
child, but it's only because she is pure and good. Such purity is not seen in adults, but in Elena, it is what makes her who
she is.
Love you all! Your support means the world to me! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 13*: Chapter 13
Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter! xoxo Ren
P.S. School has started up for me again, so my updates will become less regular. It may take 1-2 weeks, instead of 1-2
days! Please bear with me...I'm not going to abandon the story!
Her eyes watch me, but they are smiling tenderly as she waits for me to pull my hand from the doorknob that rattles in my
trembling hold. I slowly step away from it and we walk together over to the bed. I switch out the DVD in the player with
Wall-E because I know it soothes her. Anything that will keep her calm, I will do for her. She is standing beside the bed,
adjusting the pillows like she always does when we cuddle on the bed to watch something. She smiles at me suddenly,
like she knows I'm watching her. My arms wrap around her from behind and a sweet giggle belts from her lips.
I kiss her temple and sway us gently from side to side. Eventually she turns around to look up at me with a wide grin. I
lean down and capture her lips, pulling her firmly against my body possessively. She kisses me back, smiling in glee.
That's when I reach around and meticulously slide the zipper of her dress down just before pressing my entire palm
against her warm protruding spine. She only gasps when I move the straps to the edges of her shoulders until they slide
down her arms, bringing the rest of the dress with them. The fabric pools to the floor around her ankles, but she doesn't
seem to mind as my fingers spread across her exposed flesh.
"Good girl," I say softly.
My hands pull away to take my own shirt off. I don't want her to think that only I am allowed to see her like this. Her fingers
immediately attack my abdomen with their touch. She smiles, kissing me again. I close my eyes and try to coax myself to
go further. The elastic of her undies is curled inside the hook of my index, and I am hesitantly pulling them downward.
They slide off with ease, soon joining the heap of fabric around her ankles. By now she understands the pattern,
reaching her fingers out for the button of my jeans.
I pull her attention to my lips instead, doing the rest myself. By the end, we're both naked beside the bed, feeding each
other warm kisses in the presence of the frigid snow just outside the window. Our bodies heat each other, just barely
touching. Her fingers travel down my abs until she pulls away from my lips to look at my body. Her eyes are wide and her
pout open slightly in curiousity. She traces my hips first, hesitant to touch my manhood. I cup her cheek to grab her
concentration before trailing my lips along her jaw in a gentle brushing motion.
"It's okay, Elena," I whisper, sliding my hands down her waist. "Let's watch Wall-E."
I want nudity to feel normal to Elena. It may take days, but I have a few weeks to make it work. This is step one for me. If
we have to walk around naked 24/7, so be it. I just need her to feel comfortable like this. There is so much trust in her
eyes and it stings to have to break it in a way. To tell her it is okay, when really it's not. It may feel good now, but what
happens when it doesn't anymore? 'I'm sorry you're in pain Elena, but it's only out of the goodness of my heart'. Fuck it.
She settles onto the bed as always and I join her moments later. Her body almost instantaneously curls up beside me,
right against my ribs. I stroke her hair softly, entwining my fingers with hers. It is warm in the room, the heat cranked up to
almost 78 degrees. I'm beginning to sweat rather than shiver, but I want her to be comfortable, so I silently sit there and
watch the movie with her. I begin raking her arms with my fingers, moving my touch every few minutes or so. Her eyes
look up at me before she smiles.
I feel her hand on my abdomen and my muscles nearly convulse at her unexpected touch. She traces the outline of each
bulging ab, so close to my cock that I have to snatch her wrist or I will no doubt lose control. Hoping to deter myself, I kiss
her forehead and move my lips beside her ear.
"Time for lunch," I whisper.
There is some reluctance in her eyes, maybe because her attention is so focused on the television, but eventually I feel
her hand in mine. It's a damn good thing that my neighbors are nowhere near my home. We'd definitely be giving them
the show of a lifetime right now. Every window we pass, I wince a little. Elena begins to smile when we reach the kitchen,
leaning her elbow onto the countertop.
I begin to gather the ingredients for another batch of bland, tasteless oatmeal that Elena seems to adore more than
most people would claim. I feel the cool stone of the counter against my cock momentarily and I nearly hiss. Being
naked makes every touch more intense, and I have to be cautious about what I stand near. Not to mention Elena's
nakedness. By now, I am accustomed to keeping my eyes from looking at her nudity, as if they repel the sight, but I can't
help but glance every once in a while. Even though I 'can' stare without feeling like a dick, I still feel guilty.
My attention remains on the heated pan, although I can see her smiling in my peripheral. She has a heart of gold.
Whether or not she was intentionally made to be that way or not, I genuinely believe that this horrible, corrupt world has
gained something spectacular. In the depths of my thinking, I barely notice that she is kissing my cheek, on the tips of
her toes to reach my face. I instinctively turn toward her lips, and before long, I am being assaulted with them. I drop the
spoon I am using to stir, and listen to the echo as it clanks against the metal of the pan.
"I can't...cook...Elena" I mumble between her soft, warm kisses.
"I know," She smirks briefly, grabbing my face in her palms.
I comb one side of her hair to the side, so that I can access the column of her neck. The skin is so hot against my lips
when I finally press them there. I suckle the skin, burying my fingers deeper into her wild locks. Her soft gasps drive me
insane with lust. Moments later, her body leans into me and before I can even prevent it, the pan sizzles against my lower
abdomen, scorching the skin. I cry out and pull away, both from her lips and from the stove.
"Fuck," I groan, reaching my fingers down to touch the burned flesh.
Although I know it will heal, it still fucking hurts. Elena's eyes are wide in fear and she begins to tremble, gripping the
counter nervously. I am bent over and too annoyed to comfort her in the moment, but I get it together before she can turn
for the staircase. I pull her right against me, swaying her gently and hushing her.
"You're a good girl. You did nothing wrong. It just hurt me," I tell her.
"Daymond," She whimpers.
"I'm sorry, baby," My lips whisper, softly brushing her hair.
I grab her thighs and lift her up until she wraps her long legs around my waist, and even though she is touching the slow
fading burn, I keep myself from making a noise. Her arms are so tightly coiled around my body, like she's afraid I'll
disappear. Seconds later, I gently pinch her chin between my index and thumb, pulling it to look at me.
"Are you okay now?" I breathe, my eyes boring into her.
She nods slightly and I yank one corner of my mouth up into a smirk. Then I gently kiss her, moving my hand down the
length of her back. She sniffles but kisses me back. Unbeknownst to Elena, her most intimate region is right against my
body. I can feel it radiating warmth, but I can't allow this yet...no need to fucking scare her with a big hard you-know-what
pressing against her like that. This is about Elena and no one else.
I walk toward the kitchen dining table, gently seating her on one of the chairs. She looks up at me to smile. And then I
realize...I didn't turn the fucking stove off. Not again, not the fucking burnt oatmeal. Every. Fucking. Time. I nearly bolt
toward the sizzling pot, shutting off the burners and groaning at the sight of my complete food disaster. But somehow I
just laugh. I fucking laugh like it's the funniest thing I have ever seen. Elena smiles at me suddenly, seeing how happy I
am. The laughing bubbles up inside my chest and it just won't stop.
I even feel my eyes water because I am laughing so profusely. It's been a long time since I've laughed, or laughed like
this, at least. To be able to chuckle like no one is watching or judging...well it's rather pleasant. I hold the burnt oatmeal
up so that Elena can see what I've done. She can't help but smile, too. I begin a new batch, but the laughing refuses to
cease. Every time I pause and think I'm done, another chuckle escapes and it sets off a hundred more. Laughing helps
me to forget about everything. If only it had helped after Sybil. I guess that laughing as a medicine does not cure every
ailment.
Before long, we are both seated at the table. I watch her enthusiastically shovel the food into her mouth with a smile. We
stay there for a while, listening to the complete silence of the house. Then I hear someone pull into the driveway. My
supernatural hearing picks it up almost immediately. This sudden panic washes over me. Elena and I are fucking
naked...and our clothes, well, they're upstairs. The doorbell sounds moments later, my heart racing.
I shoot up the stairs without a second thought, grabbing my robe and running back down whilst trying to put it on. My
hand slams the door open, all in the midst of my lungs trying to catch some decent airflow. Caroline is smiling at me, her
lips pursed and ready to speak. Does she ever not have something to fucking say? I smile and wait a moment, but my
eyes have caught her outfit. She has a white beanie on her head and a knee length dress with a plaid trench coat. Even
her gloves match. Wrong fucking decade, Blondie.
"Damon! Oh my gosh. Enzo and I just picked up our Christmas tree. I made him stop by your house because, well, I
wanted to invite you and Elena to come decorate it with us. I mean, you don't have to, but it's a tradition and Elena is so
amazing and" She goes on and on and fucking on.
I have to think about it for a moment. Do I really want to? Would Elena want to decorate a damn tree? Although we have
nothing better to do for the rest of the day, I rather enjoy the complete silence sometimes. If I go, there is a guaranteed
'talk as much as you fucking can' policy. I sigh, roll my eyes a final time, and then nod my head.
"Sure. It will take us a few minutes to get ready, but I think Elena will really love hanging out with you." I force a polite
twinkle in my eye that shows my endless, tear-forming gratitude, just like so many fuckers fail to convey. I've got that one
down flat.
Caroline begins bopping up and down excitedly, clapping her white gloves together and turning toward the parked car
behind her to shoot Enzo a thumbs up. I can tell that he's not as thrilled as his girlfriend, but at least he's trying not to be
his usual assholey self. I try to smile as genuinely as possible when Caroline faces me again.
"We'll meet you two at my house," She finally blurts.
Soon enough, I am walking back toward the kitchen where Elena is still obediently chowing down on her oatmeal. She
smiles up at me, the food smeared in a ring around her mouth. I snort momentarily, but gesture toward the staircase.
The doe-eyed angel nods at me, following me right up the seemingly endless pattern of steps. As always, I throw a
simplistic, comfortable cotton dress over her head before pulling a pair of undies out of the drawer for her.
I have recently moved all of her stuff into one of my dressers. I guess you could say she lives in here now. The other
room is nothing more than a guest room, but I really don't mind. There is something extremely comforting about her
presence, about always having someone beside me when I sleep. She knows my bedroom extremely well at this point,
so much so that I would consider it 'ours'. Elena stands near the bed while I get her outfit together. Who knew getting
dressed could be such an intense activity. Not only does everything have to match, but she also has to approve of my
choices. Elena is a picky girl, I'll tell you. As I learn from her, you can't wear pink Converse with an oddly patterned dress.
Who knew?
When we're finished, I have her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, since I cannot seem to fucking braid hair without
failing miserably. Eventually we leave. The car ride isn't too bad, but we have to maneuver around a small car accident,
possibly caused by the dense flurries of snow that have come and gone throughout the day. Elena's eyes are fixed on
the woman crying into another man's shoulder. The blonde is shivering and distraught, and from what I can tell, everyone
is okay. Not that I naturally give a fuck.
Luckily the house waxing in the distance coaxes Elena's eyes to grow in excitement. She recognizes the place from last
time, but her reactions are always a little overdone for human standards. Still, I'd be more concerned if she didn't react at
all. At the end of the driveway, Enzo is yelling commands as he holds the ginormous tree over his head. It seems the
damn thing doesn't fit through the doorway. I try not to laugh, but it is fucking funny as hell. Caroline is in her own little
world and Enzo is growing impatient and flustered. And I think I have it hard! My car is parked beside theirs and I see
Caroline wave enthusiastically from the open doorway.
I step out of the car first, waiting to hear Elena's feet pound against the ground. Our eyes briefly meet and she
understands exactly what we're doing. When I look up towards the door again, Enzo has finally gotten the tree inside, but
his frustrated yelling can still be heard from outside. I guess the trail of tree needles guides us to the correct room of the
house because I can't help but gasp when I look at the damn tree. It is huge, so great that I swear I can just barely see
the top. It's a good thing there are high ceilings to accommodate the monstrosity.
"Wow," I whisper.
"I just knew it would be this perfect," Caroline shouts jubilantly, "Elena, I'll let you choose the color scheme for this years'
tree."
The blonde girl again takes off with Elena in hand. I didn't know people changed the color scheme of their trees each
year. Well, nothing surprises me anymore. This is my new life now, full of unexpected anomalies and freaks. I am left
alone, but only if you don't count Enzo, who is hidden beneath the base of the tree, attempting to secure the trunk into its
stand. I'm not sure how this thing is going to stay upright with such a heavy silhouette. I sigh and awkwardly stand
around, wondering if Enzo was suffocated by the dense greenery.
Soon enough, he crawls out from under, huffing and cursing. I see him stand and finally brush the needles from his
black pants. When he realizes that I am in the room, he smiles at me. There is some tension between us, especially
after my last visit. I'm surprised when he steps closer until he is literally beside me.
"Big ass tree, eh?" He asks in a friendly tone.
I nod, bury my hands deep into my pockets, and then readjust my footing uncomfortably. It is so fucking quiet, only the
distant laughing of Caroline in another room can be heard. Finally, he clears his throat.
"I'm sorry about the party," He mutters, "I was being an ass. If I knew she meant that much, I would have kept my fucking
mouth shut. Really, Damon. I didn't mean any of it."
My eyes click to his, and I smile. It means a lot to hear him say that.
"Thank you," I whisper, "I just never expected to...to care about a girl so much."
"Good. You're my best mate. I would hate to lose you." He slaps his hand against my back and laughs when he sees
Caroline return with a myriad of boxes stacked on her arms. Elena is just steps behind, her arms, too, filled.
"Daymond, look," Elena laughs.
"I'm watching you," I remind her.
Her feet wobble when she sets the boxes down, but luckily the beyond-expensive merchandise is unscathed. Caroline,
as Caroline does, begins to shout out orders, making sure that everything is down to the most minor detail. Elena just
smiles and eagerly joins in with the chaos. I'm behind her within seconds, gently rubbing her arm to let her know I'm
there. She gasps and looks up at me with a devilish smirk. Then, her arms reach above to hang the glass ornaments.
Even on the tips of her toes, the tree towers over her. Sadly I'm in the same boat. I hear Enzo dragging out a ladder, but
when you have such a pretty girl in your presence, who needs a fucking ladder?
I grip Elena's waist and heave her up toward the ceiling. She squeaks out a giggle as I effortlessly lift her over my head.
Her skinny fingers hook the ornament on one of the high branches before they reach down for another. Obviously I'm too
preoccupied to hand her more, but Caroline is there within seconds, all smiles. She yells at Enzo soon enough to take
over for her while she grabs the camera. She snaps away at us with the flash at full intensity. I'm fucking blinded after the
fourth or fifth. Elena, on the other hand, thinks it's the most exciting thing.
"Elena, are you done?" I ask in a strained groan.
She nods her head over and over, shouting a chipper 'yes'. I let her drop right down into my arms until she is against my
chest. My lips peck a kiss on her cheek.
"Good girl." I playfully pat her butt, finally setting her feet firmly onto the flooring.
She reaches toward the box of gold colored orbs for another, but I know within seconds that it isn't going to end well. Her
lungs are laughing too much for her to concentrate on anything. The ornament slips from her fingertips so fast that she
doesn't even have time to realize that it is no longer in her hold. The thing shatters right against the wood flooring. I hear
a sharp scream before Elena falls to her knees beside it, sobbing and crying and grunting.
"Elena, it's okay," I say, maybe too loudly.
I am standing behind her, my hand grabbing her shoulder gently. She is hysterical, only crying harder when I try to help
her stand back up. Her knees collapse as soon as I slightly loosen my grip, just barely missing the glass shards.
Finally, I scoop her up into my arms because it seems nothing else is going to work. I feel her body thrash against me
when I succeed, the cries only growing more distraught.
"Shhh," I hush, "Elena, it was an accident."
"Damon, it's fine, really. I have a million more of them," Caroline joins in, standing off to the side with Enzo. Their faces
say it all...concern, confusion, maybe even pity.
Elena's cries haven't died down, no matter how many times I kiss her cheek soothingly, or how long I rub her back.
Caroline keeps asking if she should get her something, maybe a glass of water, but I keep shaking my head.
"I ruin," Elena mumbles with a quivering pout. "Daymond, I ruin."
"Caroline, Enzo, I think it's time for Elena to go home," I say whilst walking toward the door anxiously. "Thank you both for
everything. Elena loves coming over, so thank you for your generosity."
They nod their heads, almost mournfully. Caroline walks me to the front door, apologizing for not being able to make it
better. I know what she means. We were having nice time, and I hate to leave so suddenly, but obviously Elena is done
with it. I'm not sure if her reaction came from guilt of breaking such a beautiful object or if she really did feel that she
ruined everything. I just hate to see her so upset, over something so fucking silly, too. She lays in my arms, her face
buried into my chest.
Caroline reaches her hand out to stroke Elena's hair softly. "Elena, sweetie, you come back anytime, okay? Don't feel
bad. We love having you here."
Maybe Elena doesn't understand everything this woman says, but her crying stops long enough for her to nod her head
slightly.
"Good. Feel better, honey," Caroline finishes, opening the door so that I can carry Elena out to my car.
The ride home is fucking speedy as hell. I run through all the traffic lights and zip past every motherfucker on that
roadway. It's not like I'm angry with Elena. If anything, I'm angry with myself for not being able to kiss it all better. Usually,
my assurance is all she needs. And in a way, this outburst is making me more fearful about Elena's emotional stability. If
her reaction to such a minor detail was this upsetting, how will sex be any fucking better? I can already hear the horrid
cries and the pain and the warbling words from her lips. The thought makes my skin prickle suddenly. How am I going to
go through with this? The days just keep counting down and yet, I am no more ready for it now than I was yesterday.
The following morning, I wake to the familiar silence of the house. Elena is beside me, tucked in the fetal position and
sound asleep. I stretch my hands over my head, already wanting nothing to do with waking up. There's a frost on the
trees this morning and I can't help but shiver at the sight. A warm shower should do the trick. I glance at my angel's
sleeping face one last time before disappearing into the realm of the bathroom. The door silently shuts behind me, and I
am just as quiet when I remove my attire.
Water slashes my body in a steady stream, engulfing me in the pleasures of warmth and comfort. I allow the water to
continue its assault, pressing myself harder against the wall of the shower. Steam rises, trailing along my skin like a
poison. As always, I consider the day's events. Today is December 7th. The Winter Solstice is December 21st this year.
Two weeks. That's all I have left and the sudden hopelessness is looming around me, as if the steam is the
objectification of this futility. Eventually I hear the door creak open, so slowly that I begin to think that it is nothing more
than my mind playing tricks on me.
"Daymond?" I hear her call.
The glass partition is too blurry from the steam for me to see her clearly, but I can make out her silhouette and those all-
too-recognizable legs that pitter patter their way over to the shower. She stands frozen a few feet away, calling my name
again.
"I'm taking a shower, Elena," I shout over the water, "I'm right here."
"My head hurt bad," She whines.
"I'll be right out, baby." I begin to scramble, searching for the shampoo.
She says something in return, but I can't make out her words. They are mumbled, competing with the sounds of the
pounding water. I turn away from the door for a second, but in that time, she manages to sneak her way into the shower
stall. I gasp in surprise when I realize she's here.
"It hurts, Daymond," She whimpers.
The white nightgown she wears is now drenched all the way through, revealing every curve of her body. It hugs her tightly,
but she doesn't seem to care nor realize. Within seconds, I pull her against my chest and stroke her wet locks. She
groans.
"I'll take care of it" I say in a soft breath.
We stand there for a long time, her arms wrapped around my torso. After a while, her orbs find mine and she looks
absolutely pathetic. I take the opportunity to skim my fingers along her cheek in a sweet gesture, my lips finding her next.
There is this inexplicable feeling in my stomach, like flies buzzing around. It leads my blood into a ruthless gallop,
speeding through my veins over and over. This pumping triggers my haggard breaths and then my sweaty palms, even
in the midst of the pounding water.
Somewhere in there, I peel the soaked fabric from her body, right over her head. Her nipples are erect, and when she
presses them against me, I can read them like braille. There are so many emotions spinning in my head. I'm scared of
hurting her. I'm anxious to touch her. I'm hesitant to be feeling this way. How can I make this about me? I should feel like
shit, but every kiss of her lips, every touch of her fingertips. They drive me crazy with lust. She makes me feel different,
feel things I've never felt. And so I give in, I kiss what I want, I touch where I want, and I let myself finally be free.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the chapter, even with the ruthless cliffhanger!
Chapter Recap:
1) Damon and Elena spend the morning getting to know their bodies (wink wink)
2) Damon burns himself cooking because he is too distracted whilst kissing
3) Caroline invites Damon and Elena over to help decorate the Christmas tree
4) Enzo apologizes to Damon
5) Elena has an emotional breakdown over a broken ornament
6) Delena gets steamy in the shower!
Thank you so much for your endless support and love! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 14*: Chapter 14
Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter...and so quickly! xoxo Ren
My hands slide along her flesh, down the length of her back, and then around her hips. I lick her collarbone with the tip of
my tongue and I hear her moan softly, but I begin to wonder if it is for the reason that I want. Alas, I return my lips to her
warm pout, surprised when she turns her face away from me. Her hand is pressed to my chest, gesturing for me to step
back. I comply immediately. The area under her eyes is red, her lips wrinkled from dearth of hydration, and even the
complexion of her skin is a tad off.
Before I even have time to speak, her nails are digging into the tops of my shoulders. Her face is angled downward and
then I feel it. The warmth of her vomit spewing all over my abdomen, seeping in a path toward my feet. Last night's meal,
I suppose. I can't say my reaction isn't some fucking form of disgust at first, my mouth agape in shock. Elena is still
holding onto to my body, coughing and trying to hold back tears. Luckily, the water has washed away the bodily fluid,
giving me the chance to keep my attention on the sick girl. Though I probably should have realized that a headache was
a good sign of illness, I thought nothing of it, really.
"Daymond. I sorry," She whines.
I hush her cries again, pulling her out of the shower and into a fluffy towel. I couldn't care less about the wet trail I have
created on the way to our bed, even if I almost slip in the moisture myself. I lay her right onto the mattress, trying to get a
good look at her. My fingers coax her mouth open, then her ears, then eyelids. Everything seems fine. I wrap the towel
tighter around her body, continuing to hush her quiet whimpering.
"Elena, you're just sick, baby," I try to explain to her. "I'll make you better, I promise."
She begins to shiver, but her skin is so hot. I begin to wonder if it's from the piping hot shower or her blood boiling. What
am I supposed to do? The panic is settling into the crevices of my mind. I stuff her beneath the covers, making sure to
bunch up the fabric of the towel to rest beneath her soaked hair. Her eyes are already closed, but she whispers my
name in some kind of chant.
I grab the scotch glass off of the shelf in the bathroom, the one I use when Elena needs a bath. Once it's in my hold, I fill
it with tap water and then force her to drink from it. She is reluctant, but she can hear the sternness in my voice when I tell
her what to do. I sit her head up slightly so that she can sip the liquid. Once half of the water is gone, I set it on the table
beside her and allow her head to meet the pillow once again.
Next I snatch the heating pad, placing it on her bare abdomen beneath the covers. She curls herself around it, sniffling,
but content. It seems I spend the next hour comforting her, throwing a nightgown over her head, and trying to
communicate with her because in the back of my mind, I'm distraught, once again thinking about the deadline that is
growing ever nearer. I'm being set back further, and yet somehow I don't care. I just want to make sure she's okay.
"Hold me," She begs when I return from the bathroom in some dark wash jeans and cotton shirt.
She falls asleep on my chest and you know what? She sleeps for sixteen fucking hours straight.
I keep my ears concentrated on her heartbeat the entire time she is in her state of unconsciousness. It is extremely scary
for me. I don't think it is possible for a person to sleep for that long, especially after such a sound rest the night before. I
do all kinds of research, praying that her symptoms are nothing to be concerned about. Conclusively, the websites only
validate that Elena is human, and humans get sick, even ones with mysterious supernatural abilities.
When she finally opens her eyes, I gasp, kissing her forehead and muttering her sweet name. I have one of her favorite
steamed spinach dishes waiting beside her, knowing she prefers it room temperature anyway. She looks at me wearily,
but curves the corner of her lip up ever-so-slightly. Not even five minutes later, she is demanding to watch a movie. Still,
her face is pallid and lifeless.
She allows me to carry her to the den where I set up the fireplace and allow her to absorb its warmth for a few hours. The
radio blares Christmas tunes, but she relentlessly begs me to sing along to them. When I refuse, she ignores me, like
most hormonal teen girls do with their boyfriends. And so I spend the next five days caring for her, massaging her
temples to soothe her horrid headaches, and making sure she is comfortable. All my attention goes towards Elena,
even in the midst of Caroline's and Bonnie's phone calls and of course, the upcoming winter solstice.
The last thing Elena wants when she feels sick is to be kissed. She turns her face away and groans softly as if to revolt. I
don't mind, though. There are some things I could never imagine doing to her in the state that she is in. On December
13th, I can tell she's back to her normal self, smiling, asking me for oatmeal, wondering when we can go outside and
play in the snow, and even jumping on the bed like a fucking hooligan. Not long after, I finally answer Caroline's call and
she agrees to come over and take care of Elena the following day.
Unfortunately for me, the nightmares start up again that night. It's as if the worst moments of my life are on a never-
ending reel of film, flashing into my mind every time I close my eyelids. How convenient that while I'm conscious, I have
Elena to worry about and when I'm unconscious, I have Sybil to concern myself with. No matter where I go there is no
true escape.
I still remember the day Sybil died, so well that it's one of the most vivid memories that I can recall. Her body was hard
and cold, like a statue sculpted to fit like a puzzle piece against my body. When I opened my eyes that morning, I
remember smiling at her, whispering her name to wake her from her rest. The birds outside whistled in a cacophony, as
if saluting the soul that was flying up toward the clouds. That soul was Sybil, unbeknownst to me in the moment.
I reached my fingers out to softly stroke her cheek, only to be greeted by the feeling of death. My hand almost
instinctively recoiled, an alarmed gasp leaving the warmth of my lips. I swear that for only a second, I saw my own breath
when it met her frigid flesh. My body began to tremble, nearly falling out of the bed in panic. I bolted for the door, only to
find my parents speaking to a priest just on the other side.
Tears were freely streaming down my cheeks, but they all just stared at me mournfully, already aware of my discovery.
My mother was blowing her nose into her handkerchief, asking the priest about the funeral arrangements. Although he
was there too, my father stood motionless, possibly still in the early stages of denial.
"Damon, the nurse found her like that this morning. We let you have your time to say goodbye. They're bringing-," My
mother choked suddenly, "She's going to be properly laid to rest."
"No," I barked, "You're not taking her anywhere."
"You knew she was going to die. Don't you for a second believe you're the only person that is mourning," My father
chimed in. "We loved her just as much."
There was such fury in my eyes, as if they were the reason she was dead. I couldn't even hold back the sobs because the
pain was so potent, so intense. Within seconds, Sybil was in my arms, and I walked down that crowded hallway with her,
nearly pushing my way through. My father grabbed my shoulder, but I shook him off.
"Damon, what are you doing?" Multiple voices called after me.
I kept walking, even as the tears plummeted down onto her paralyzed cheek. She surprisingly felt heavier, maybe
because I forced myself to memorize the feeling of her against me. Each step I took, I cried louder, I screamed louder, I
cursed louder. I wanted God to know what he had done to me. The slaves stared in shock as I made my way across one
of the fields toward the horse stable. I'm not exactly sure how I got up on that fucking horse, maybe I forced one of the
stable boys to hold her dead body and pass her up to me when I finally got on the beast.
"Damon, are you mad or just insane? You're upsetting your mother," My father screamed, running towards the barn.
All I remember is taking off with her pressed to my chest, hysterically sobbing and screaming her name into the wind,
hoping it would reach her roaming spirit. Maybe if she heard my voice, she could find her way home to me. I would lead
her back to me, I would. And so, that horse galloped along the ground, pounding its hooves wildly. My arm was wrapped
around Sybil's waist, her neck snapped back to rest in the crook of my neck. I still remember my father yelling at the
slaves to stop me. In that moment, though, I had not a single fuck to give.
"Sybil, do you feel that?" I sobbed, "You're flying."
My body was rocked back and forth ceaselessly by the movement of the animal, but I was almost hoping that he would
throw us off his back. I wanted to die, I wanted so badly to be with her. My hands grabbed her wrists then. I spread both
pairs of our arms out to the sides like an eagle, and I let us soar, even in the off chance that I would lose my balance and
snap the column of my neck. If my sister could face death with such grace, then I had to do just the same.
"You fly away from here. You take those angel wings and you bring yourself as high as the sky will let you, until all you
see around you are clouds," I sniveled, "You wait for me there, Sybil Salvatore."
As I reached the creek at the edge of our property, I jumped off the horse, catching Sybil when her limp body tumbled
down. And I just sat there, our bodies nothing more than a heap on the cold, wet grass. I talked to her, but only between
the throes of anguish and despair. While I remember that day so vividly, I have to admit that I recall nothing after that
point. Maybe my body went into survival mode to prevent my heart from shattering into a thousand pieces. I likely fought
the slaves for Sybil's body, threatening to slit their throats if they tried to separate us.
Even so, Sybil ended up in the ground eventually, in a private cemetery for the rich. The fucking place had gigantic iron
gates to keep the dead, in, and the people trying to die, out. I visited her grave only once, I think it was at her funeral.
They gave her a spot up on a hill, so that whenever the sun set, she would be the last to see it. I was happy with that
decision. The higher she was, the closer she was to the clouds, and goddamn it, that's the way it needed to be. Both my
parents are currently buried on either side of her. Their gravestones are smaller, less extravagant, but when you're dead,
you no longer give a fuck about what your headstone is going to look like. I didn't go to either funeral, and sometimes I
regret that choice. No matter what happens in life, our parents are still our parents, and that was something I learned far
too late.
I wake from the nightmare gradually, step by step over some ridiculously long interval, one where I'm semiconscious, yet
disoriented and confused. I feel a pressure on my abdomen, as if being held down, and then that same pressure is
applied to my lips, a soft warmth every few seconds. My eyes flutter open wearily and I'm finally regaining my
surroundings. I allow a groan to leave my lungs before I hear a feminine giggle.
"Elena?" I grumble.
She smiles at me, softly stroking the right side of my face with the backs of her fingers. Her eyes are bright today, specks
of orange spotting her irises. She shields them from me whenever she leans back down to kiss my mouth again. After
only a few moments, I reciprocate her affection, even in the depths of my dazed consciousness. My hands hold her hips
gently so that I can reach up to get closer to her lips. Eventually she just lays against my chest, her chin planted on my
sternum.
"How are you?" I whisper into her ear.
"Not sick," She laughs.
"Good," I concur, "Caroline's going to take care of you today, okay? I have some things to do in town."
She looks up at me with those puppy eyes and a pouted lip, a warm pink from kissing me. Her head bobs up and down
slightly, signaling her agreement. I rake my fingers along her back, caressing her cheek in a long, wet kiss.
"You're going to have so much fun," I encourage.
"No. I want you." She plays with the tips of my dark hair, keeping her eyes on them.
"I won't be long, baby. I'll come back to you as soon as I'm done." At some point she looks at me, as if I'm leaving her
forever.
"Why you go?" I hear her mutter.
"I have to buy you more food, possibly a winter jacket, and some more hair ties," I say.
"Okay." Then she dips her nose into the crook of my neck and holds me with every ounce of strength she has.
Caroline shows up with more shit than she can manage to carry with two arms. She claims the bags are full of makeup,
movies, and clothes, but really, is that fucking possible? I roll my eyes and instead spend my time making a list of
Elena's likes and dislikes and her daily routine. I'm hoping Elena will be too distracted with fun to find time to worry about
my absence. She looks at me wearily when I grab the car keys, but I hug her firmly to my body and remind her that I'll be
home before she knows it.
My first stop is the blood donation center. It's fairly simple to walk in there and compel my way into getting a box filled to
the brim with blood bags. I'm ridiculously hungry, especially after my supply dried up nearly two days ago. Before I'm
even to the car, I'm sucking one of them down like water. After, I stop at the fucking farmer's market I dread so greatly.
Luckily, the place is too crowded for me to become a target of these people's insanity. I grab what I need and get the hell
of there. My phone hasn't even chirped once. I'm relieved yet somehow more irked than anything else.
I sigh. Keeping Elena home is for one reason and one reason alone; I'm picking out her Christmas gift at the jewelers
today. Yes, I need to pick up blood bags and food and maybe have the decency to buy her a jacket, but they are all simply
red herrings, diversions of sorts. I plan to buy her the most beautiful piece of jewelry any woman could own. There is an
intense anxiety rotting away inside me. It has to be perfect, it just has to be.
Even though I have so many more errands to run before the jewelers, I can't seem to wait any longer. Right after the
farmer's market, I head for the small shop, the one where I know I will find the most incredibly beautiful necklace. With
money not being an object, it's simply left up to my keen eye for gemstones. My ocean blue orbs scope out the rows and
rows of endless rare stones and gold chains. Then my eyes click to one in particular, one so mesmerizing, it could be
nothing less than flawless, nothing less than what Elena means to me.
By the end of this outing, I have in my possession: one red peacoat, one pair of white winter gloves, thirty hair ties, twenty
blood bags, plenty of fucking vegetation, one incredible necklace...and a partridge and a pear tree. You know you were
thinking it, too! The fucking holiday season is playing games with me. I roll my eyes. The bags are on the seat beside me
in the car and the smell of defrosting vegetables fills the air. Why have a farmer's market in fucking December? I scoff to
myself, turning up the radio just a tad louder.
I quietly slip into the house, shutting the door with such precision that it makes not a sound when I shut it behind me. I
piled everything on top of the box with the blood bags, hoping to make only one trip from the car. The necklace is hidden
away in my back pocket, safe from prying fingers and curious doe-eyed girls. The blood bag box finds a place on the floor
beside the front entrance while I wriggle into the kitchen where I hear laughter ring out like a chorus. The scent of baking
cookies is the first thing to hit me.
They don't realize I'm there until I clear my throat, coaxing their necks to turn toward my presence. Elena's eyes grow
bright and she nearly tackles me to the fucking floor. Caroline giggles softly, grabbing whatever is in the oven. My angel's
face is like a small animal burrowing into my armpit. All I can do is hold her right back, kissing her forehead sweetly.
"Hey babygirl," I coo.
"Daymond," She breathes, "I maked cookies for you."
"She did," Caroline confirms, "She wanted to surprise you when you got home."
"Thank you, Elena," I hum beside her ear. "I have a surprise for you, too."
I lead her by her hand toward the stuff I have set by the door. Her eyes grow ever-so-slightly at the sight, and I realize that
she is blushing bashfully. Elena loves attention, but when every ounce of it is on her, she grows shy. It is incredibly sexy,
though, turning on every nerve in my body. Even so, I shake my head to deter myself from thinking too much about it.
When I pull the peacoat from the bag, she nearly gasps.
She's almost nervous when I go to help her into the jacket. Her fingers hesitantly touch the fabric, such a vibrant red, that
even I must admit that it compels the eyes. Kissing her cheek, I take the opportunity to tell just how stunning she looks.
The pupils of her eyes meet mine and she can't help but grin at the compliment I pay her.
"I'm heading home," The blonde vampire shouts on her way out the door, her fucking shit nearly overflowing in her two
arms. "I'll call you later, Damon."
From that point on, the day flies by in a blink of the eye. I make up a huge batch of oatmeal and then some kind of
vegetable stew that Elena was so keen on eating. Most of my time is spent cooking, talking to Elena about her day, and
about the sequel movie to Cinderella. How she knows this, I can only imagine. I guess, Caroline may have chatted with
her about it. At some point, there is nothing left to say, and so the radio fills the empty silence for us.
When I head upstairs after a juicy blood bag, Elena is just steps behind. I don't even have to speak. She walks inside the
room, wondering why I am mindlessly staring at the bed. I wait for her to come over to me, and she does moments later,
cocking her neck to look at me. My hands wrap her tiny waist like a ribbon before I softly trail my lips across her forehead,
down her jaw, and then her neck. The sound of her heavy breaths is enough to for my hands to fidget with the straps of
her dress.
I slide my fingertips over her breast for a split second, too quickly for her to freak out. A gasp is the only sound to vent
from her lips and I chuckle at her dazed expression. The fabric of her dress is the only thing that keeps her flesh safe
from my sly touch. I finally muster up the bravery to cup her right breast in my palm, holding it like a hollow glass sphere,
almost afraid to crack it.
"Daymond?" She asks in a quiet mutter.
"It's okay, Elena," I reassure, nipping at her lips to avert her attention.
I begin to gently stroke her breast with the pad of my thumb, using my other hand to unzip her dress. Her chest is
heaving and I can hear the pitter patter of her heart echoing in my ears. The room is so quiet, so dense, as if we're the
only living creatures for miles. I tug the back of the dress until it forces the fabric down, my hand pulling away briefly to
give it its emancipation. When I return my fingers to her breast, she looks up at me like heaven is just inches from her.
"Do you like?" I lean down and whisper.
She nods, stamping a kiss to my mouth and smiling tenderly. I continue to massage her in the palm of my hand,
occasionally tracing her nipple. A trail forms down her body where my inquisitive fingers wish to mingle. They slide down
her flat abdomen and brush the empty patch below her navel in a swipe, right where the front of her panties hugs her.
"Do you like?" I ask again in a soft, warm tone.
As before, she nods, her cheeks growing a dark rosy shade. I pull away, grabbing her hips and gently directing her onto
the mattress. She quietly pants, watching as I grab one of the movies off the small table. The DVD player begins playing
the disc that I have just slid into the machine, and I saunter over to Elena once again. She is reclined on the pillows, in a
trance of some sort, her eyes almost not detecting my presence. I laugh and she smiles innocently.
My fingers carefully reach for her undies, shimmying them down her thighs. She lifts her ass so that I can easily get them
off, allowing her knees to fall to one side on the mattress.
When I begin to peel off my own attire, she tries not to smile. I catch her little sneaky eyes watching me, but she quickly
clicks them toward the television the moment she realizes that I know. Even as I climb into the bed, she keeps her eyes
forward, trying to look more interested in the movie. She's not a very good actress, though. I pull her to my body and kiss
her forehead, as if to say 'I can't keep my eyes off myself, either.' I can't seem to retire all my egotistical ways just yet.
Anyhow, she snuggles right against me, our heads sharing the same pillow. The flat box with the necklace neatly stored
inside of it is in my hand farthest from her. I'm tempted to show her now, but maybe I could wait a little longer. And so, I
stuff the thing under the pillow. Elena repeatedly prods me with her head, possibly for some attention. I smirk, beginning
my touch at her collarbone and working my way downward. Besides an occasional grumble, Elena barely makes a
sound. I take my time, trying not to overwhelm her too quickly.
She watches the movie with the same concentration as always. I try to make it all feel normal, like it's just another daily
activity. Elena doesn't seem to mind at all, keeping her body as still as possible for me. My fingers migrate just past her
navel and I can feel my own heart beginning to race, nervous and excited and anxious. I gently wedge my hand between
her legs and she instinctively separates them so that I can access her most intimate region. I'm not sure she's aware
that that's exactly what it is; intimate...and fuck...I am physically trembling at the thought of what I'm about to do. What have
I become?
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! See? Was the wait that bad?! *smiles innocently*
Chapter Recap:
1) Elena vomits in the shower and spends the next few days recovering
2) Damon is panicking about how quickly the days are flying by (especially with the upcoming solstice)
3) Damon's nightmare reminds him of the day he discovered that Sybil had passed away
4) Damon goes out to run some errands and buy Elena her Christmas gift!
5) The seduction has begun...dun dun dun!
Thank you so much for reading, supporting, loving, and reviewing this story! It means so, so much to me! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 15*: Chapter 15
Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter! xoxo Ren
I softly rake my fingers along her vulva, just so that she can become used to my touch there. I stroke up, pause, then
stroke down, over and over. Her legs eventually just fall apart, no longer bothering to hold themselves up. I kiss her
forehead, whispering a 'good girl' somewhere in there. When I look down, her nipples are pebbled, and she has begun
to pant again.
"Daymond," She whispers. "Feel good."
"Good," I mumble.
I repeat the massage again and again, so many times that I hope it's almost hypnotic. But then there is this growing
need to discover for myself just how tough her hymen is. I want to doubt Bonnie, I want to believe that it's not as bad I
think, that I could possibly break it without Elena even feeling it. My fingers begin to quiver slightly but I close my eyes and
force the deep breaths in and out. Then I finally touch her entrance, hovering it with my index. There is such a sudden
reluctance, so strong that I'm unsure if I can do it.
I feel Elena press harder against me, resting her cheek on my shoulder moments later. That's when I finally do it,
slipping my finger inside her inch by inch, feeling the walls swaddle me from all sides. I'm no more than three inches in
when I hit a solid barrier that stops my movement instantly. I push on it and fuck, her hymen is one durable piece of skin,
so thick, I can tell that the witches were truthful in their words.
Before I even have time to think, Elena is thrashing against me, slapping at my hand, at my face, anywhere she can hit
with her fists. I try to calm her with words, but she just keeps fighting me. She doesn't understand why I'm placing my
finger inside of her. The confusing situation mixed with limited vocabulary has appeared to result in a full-out breakdown.
"No," She screams at the top of her lungs, rolling her entire body away from me until she is laying on her stomach,
forcing my finger to discharge.
Her face is buried into the pillow to the right of her and she is clenching it in her grip, crying, sobbing, and howling in
anguish. I wipe my finger off on the sheets quickly, using my other to stroke her back soothingly, sketching the 'circle'
along her flesh.
"Elena, it's okay. I promise you," I hum softly, even though every word is a lie, "You're a good girl."
My throat is extremely taut, my hands trembling, my eyes watering, all in fear. She sobs so profusely that I'm not sure that
she can physically stop at this point. I can't do this to her anymore. It's all too fucked up and watching Elena beg me to
stop just breaks me to the core. There is no question: I can't do this. My feet plummet to the hardwood floor and I snatch
my robe as I depart the room. When my feet scramble to the den, I find myself falling apart.
Anything remotely fragile that I can get my hands on, I fucking chuck across the room into the fireplace, listening to how
the glass shatters into a trillion shards. My roars of anger are made known with every grunt of my lungs and with every
flick of my wrist that projects the object from my hold. When the glass breaks, I heal just that much more and eventually, I
fall to my knees, tired of fighting this losing battle for sanity. I call Bonnie and she answers her phone soon enough,
probably surprised to see my name on her screen.
"Damon," The witch breathes in some form of relief.
"I'm not a rapist," I bark, "I will not do this to her."
"You don't have to," She tries to assure me, but to Hell with her.
"The vampire race can fucking die for all I care." My voice is trembling. "I will not hurt her, I won't."
There is a long defeated pause from the other end of the phone line, all while my nails begin to scrape long trenches
into the wood below my touch, and honestly, I can feel the fucking monster inside me fighting for control.
"Damon, please," She nearly whispers, "Every vampire you've ever known will die with you. I'm not going to tell you what
to do, but your choice will ultimately impact-"
"Good," I scream, catapulting the phone against the mantle until a long crack swims in a path across the screen.
I angle my face upward to keep the tears from escaping my eyes. Thoughts of Caroline, of Enzo, of all the good vampires
in the world. Could I be the reason that they lose their lives? Could I die knowing that my selfishness ended in all our
sudden deaths? Do I even care? And there is something I cannot wrap my mind around; one girl's momentary pain for
the sake of an entire species? How can that be right, how can the prime example of humanity and kindness be hurt like
that for the benefit of some soulless creatures?
I just close my eyes and wait for sleep to reap consciousness from me. My perception of time is nonexistent, but I know
that I lay there for a long, seemingly interminable period.
We are both in that fateful bedroom, the one where she sleeps beside me each night and where she kisses my lips softly
before she falls into her dreams. I hear thunder booming in the distance and when I look up at the window, I realize that
the storm outside is intense with pounding rain and rough winds that slightly shake the house's frame.
Dreams are strange, they change so quickly, possibly to make their spectator vulnerable. When I turn around, Elena is
there, trembling and crying. Her eyes refuse to meet mine, even as I step toward her involuntarily. I'm not in control of the
dream. No matter how much I fight against my circumstances, I am still bounced around like a puppet, and before I
know it, I am kissing the fearful girl, telling her it's alright.
Our clothes disappear inexplicably and again, I try to fight myself for control. The room spins, Elena cries louder, and all I
can do is watch, unable to escape this horrible dream. My hands are groping her breasts and the kisses I feed her
become rough and possessive. She tries to push me away, but her action does nothing in return. Elena fights me more
and more, but I grip her tighter, until harsh bruises pool onto her skin, until I have her pinned on the bed without an
ounce of true effort or will.
"Daymond, I scared," She pleads.
"The solstice, Elena. I have to." The words are all I can manage to mutter before things grow increasingly rough.
The harder she fights, the crueler I become. My hands pin her shoulders to the mattress and I can see how afraid this
innocent girl is. She begs me, her fingers desperately pressing against my chest. And then I am inside her and the blood
is everywhere, the bruises, the pain. As afraid as I am, the dream refuses to end. Her body goes limp beneath me and
then her lips separate and her eyes freeze. When I look at her face one more time, I can't help but scream; it's Sybil.
I wake up coughing, wheezing, gasping. My surroundings remind me that I'm in the den, not the bedroom, but I can't help
the one lonely tear that trickles down my temple before tracing my jaw and then disappearing into oblivion. I realize that I
have fallen asleep on the sofa, away from Elena and rather in the presence of what is left of my alcohol collection. The
dream is haunting and nothing more. I begin to wonder why I saw Sybil: was it because I fear that forcing this on Elena is
too similar to Sybil's rape back in 1860 or because maybe I see Sybil's innocence in Elena as well? The thought is too
tragic and so I push it from my mind before it can break me anymore.
After a long moment, I try to tap into my supernatural hearing so that I can listen to Elena, wherever she may be. When I
do, there is only silence. My legs pound up the staircase in a nervous race. The bed is still just a heap of tangled white
sheets, but as I expect, Elena is missing. I check under the frame of the mattress, under the covers, and under anything I
could imagine a human hiding beneath. Panic is looming, but I'm trying to keep it together. I move on to the bathroom,
throwing the door open and searching high and low for that doe-eyed creature.
I catch something in the corner of my eye, but at first, I'm not so sure it's what I think it is. In the basin of the bathtub,
Elena's legs are tucked up against her chest in a tightly coiled ball. She is on her side, her long hair draping her
shoulders and chest protectively. I'm surprised when I notice that she is wearing one of her nightgowns, possibly the
only provider of warmth in this porcelain structure. She is fast asleep, a steady flow of rhythmic breaths seeping from her
lips. Eventually I step toward the tub's edge slowly in a silent stride.
My fingers stroke her cheek for a brief moment before I peel her from the white, hard tile. She is light in my hold and I
quietly walk with her toward the staircase, feeling the chill of the flooring against my soles. Her head is snapped back
and her lips parted exactly as they were in the dream. For a fleeting second, my skin prickles until every hair is erect. I
shiver a little, but only just before I set her on the couch, propping a pillow behind her head and then layering a warm
blanket over her skinny silhouette. After, I take the opportunity to grab her a warmed up bowl of oatmeal from the batch
that I had made the day before.
The smell must have aroused her from her deep slumber because when I return with it, her eyes are open, and yet she
looks thoroughly exhausted. Her chocolate orbs won't even look at me, a feeling that I can only describe as
heartwrenching. I set the warm dish beside her on the table and she is slow to react, as if her hunger isn't worth the off
chance that our fingers touch. When I sit down, it is at the other end of the couch. The television soon dilutes the
occupancy of awkwardness both of us feel, but I know what I have to do...I have only one thing left I can do. The remote is
in my hand and the fucking thing shakes concurrently with me.
The laptop is on the coffee table. I stand up and grab it, quickly syncing it to the television with the accompanying cord. It
feels like forever, but eventually the screen of the television matches my laptop background. I click on my downloaded
files and find the one I am in search for. I'll admit that I've only ever watched it once, but in it I find it to be the most
accurate portrayal of gentle, sweet sex. The movie is a love story and luckily the sex is more emotional, more passionate
than just a typical pornography video. I want Elena to see it as beautiful, not raunchy.
The video begins to play after I select the scene I am thinking of. I sit down again and sigh deeply, nervous and barely
able to deal with how embarrassing this feels. The two actors are in the early stages of foreplay, just beginning to strip
the clothes from their bodies, very similar to what Elena and I have done before. The girl beside me realizes this quickly,
glancing over at me questioningly. I simply flick my eyes away. The scene moves further along and the kisses are
becoming more intense, longer. The blonde is naked, cherishing her lover's hands as they explore her, unable to fulfill
her insatiable need for his touch.
Elena gradually scoots closer to me, very slowly of course, only between spoonfuls of oatmeal. By the time she is
touching the same cushion as me, the male is hovering the woman's body, using his lips to kiss her breasts and then
her flat abdomen. This is probably one of those moments that I regret purchasing a high definition television. The scene
is almost too fucking real, as if I'm really watching some random couple fuck each other. Even so, I'm surprised when
Elena's hand weasels its way into my palm, already so willing to trust me again.
"It's okay," I whisper, tracing a circle of encouragement on her upper arm like a brand.
I close my eyes momentarily and all I can hear are the sexual moans and gasps resounding from the machine. Elena
looks down at her chest and then back up to the television over and over, possibly comparing herself to the actress,
curious to learn more about those fatty bulbs hanging from her ribs. The longer I sit here, the tenser I feel my body
getting. Elena's cheeks are a crimson red and she is struggling to watch, almost identical to my reaction. It gets to the
point where she hides her face between the back of the sofa and my shoulder, no longer able to bear the sight.
I push her nightgown up a tad so that I can rest my hand on her bare knee. A gasp suddenly leaves her lips. She allows
me to keep my touch there, and secretly peeks to look at the screen once again, just as the male pushes himself inside
the girl. Elena's hand is trembling and I hear her whimper in distress, coaxing me to sneakily pull her onto my lap to
cradle her like a baby.
"It's okay," I repeat, softly stroking her cheek with my thumb.
The tears slide down her temples and into her tangled hair almost like synchronized divers. She hasn't said a word, but
that doesn't mean that she isn't hurting inside.
"Why they do?" She asks in a whisper.
"For love," I breathe, brushing my fingers through her messy locks.
A sob heaves from her lungs. "I scared."
"Why?" I ask in a soothing tone.
"I love you," She cries.
The confession scorches me. Love. Even though I expected these words to eventually leave her lips, they sound new,
like discovering a planet no one has searched before. Her eyes bore right into my eyes and the only thing I can endure to
do is kiss her forehead.
"We don't have to do that," I say softly, gesturing toward the television. "You can still love."
She smiles up at me as if I'm the only good on this entire planet, as if I'm the only person to ever relieve her of her own
worst fear. I can tell that it means so much to her, even if it's a choice that we should all be given as living beings, one
that my sister never knew. It's a choice that I'm still deciding is up to me or up to fate.
I nearly forget about the necklace I left underneath the pillow upstairs. It is exactly where I left it, but the faint scent of
Elena still lingers on it, as if the two are already destined to be. With Christmas in the near future, I consider taking her
away from the stress swallowing us both. Even though she's not sure why, she knows the tension is there, that the
relationship between us is strained, even if subconsciously. I could send her to a school specializing in language
development, a place to get her out of the house and into a learning environment. At least she would have the chance to
socialize because I can tell that the boredom is becoming increasingly unbearable. Sending her to school seems a little
extreme, though, especially when boredom isn't something an international vacation can't fix.
As always, she's downstairs watching another movie. I think I will fucking explode if I have to even so much as hear one
more of them. Maybe it's simply the fucking stress taking its toll on me. I sprawl myself across the mattress with a grunt
finally, closing my eyes to try and clear my cluttered mind. I can hear the muffled voices of the television and then some
time later...silence. A pair of feet stumble up the staircase and then creep into the bedroom. I'm surprised when I hear
the bathroom door click shut suddenly, obviously no detours on her little journey to the ladies' room.
All I can manage is a fucking groan and I grip my hair in frustration, as if Elena wanting to be alone is somehow
infuriating me. My eyes are closed and I try to just listen to the sound of a deafening silence, but that only makes me
more jittery and anxious. The clanks and booms coming from the bathroom are not concerning, but I can only imagine
what she could possibly be doing in there. I stride over to the door that keeps us separated, hesitant to knock.
"Elena?" I call softly.
When I go to open the door, it creaks open on its own. She stands there ass-naked in front of the reflective glass above
the double sinks, her body angled sideways like a profile, while her hands skim along her body. Her gaze as she looks
in the mirror is intense and curious, the pupils never staying in one place for more than a second or two. She
progressively shifts herself, moving her touch just as often. One moment she is cupping her breast, smiling a little
whenever she closes her eyes to relish in some unknown aspect of the action, and another she is tracing the features of
her face like a painting.
She looks absolutely breathtaking: the way she smiles, the way she twirls a loose strand of hair between her fingertips,
the way her body glows in the sunlight that pools into the space. I am tempted to make my presence known, but I can't
muster up the courage yet. The only thing I can bear is to silently watch. After a few minutes, I finally push the door all the
way open, stepping into the room like a phantom. My strides are short and meticulous. When she sees my reflection in
the mirror, she gasps, nearly jumping a foot off the tile flooring.
"Daymond," She nearly chokes on what sounds like a mercy plea, "I-I was-"
She is stammering, on the verge of tears, and covering herself with her arms. By the time I am just feet away, the tears
have begun to fill the deep treads of her features.
"Are you afraid of me?" I whisper, cupping her cheek to make sure that she looks at me.
"No," She whimpers with a quivering pout, "The movie."
I gently caress her hair, hushing her growing sobs.
"Why?" I breathe against her lips.
"I want you happy." Her arms encompass me within seconds of her words and she buries her swollen cheeks into my
chest as always.
I brush her hair for a while before gently grabbing her chin until I can force it up towards my face. My eyes stare into hers
for a brief moment, just long enough to see her bright orbs twinkle. I plant a small kiss on her mouth, just as a teaser, as
a way of asking her for permission. My lips nip at hers and she nips mine back in the midst of a delicate shudder that
escapes her lungs. I can taste the saltiness of her tears, the wetness smudging my cheek when she cranes her head to
the side to feed me deeper kisses.
"You already make me happy," I mumble, suckling her bottom lip between my own.
My hands take their places along her body like a musician with his harp, playing their little melody against her warm
flesh. I strum my fingertips across her hips, careful not to scare her by pinning her to the bathroom counter, but it is
proving to be a challenge. I trail my lips down her throat, outlining the pulsating artery clicking against my tongue
whenever I softly taste it. Still, I do not ponder for too long because the flavor of her warm mouth is far more enticing.
"Feel my hardt," She whispers, directing my hand to the breast guarding her beating heart.
When my fingers become paralyzed against her chest, she moves my wrist in a circular pattern to encourage me to
massage her. I nod subconsciously, drawing circles around her nipple and capturing her mouth again. My legs begin to
walk our bodies toward the bedroom and Elena follows, addicted to my lips like a fucking druggie on crack. I'm in such a
trance that I forget that the bed is right behind Elena's knees and it doesn't take long before the two of us crumble onto
the mattress. The laughter bursts from our lungs suddenly.
I push myself onto my knees, just barely hovering her body. My shirt is pulled over my head in one quick sweep and
before long I am leaning my face down to her lips. Warm fingers trace my abdomen and then my chest, just like I had
with hers. She cups my muscled pec, kissing the areola innocently. I can't help but laugh, pushing my fingers through
her hair once more and then leaning down to suck her breast in return, swirling my tongue and marking her body with my
saliva. I see the smile already etched on her lips, especially when I begin to pepper short, sweet kisses all over her
chest.
The jeans come off next and I'm left just as clothless as she is. So far, she is dauntless, rather eager if anything about
our gentle foreplay. While brushing her labial lips with my right hand, I drag my tongue down her collarbone painfully
slow. She is gasping for air, squeezing her eyes shut tight and the muscles of her lower body twitch involuntarily the
more I manipulate her nerves.
"You are so beautiful," I hum beside her ear.
She smiles up at me, forcing her eyes open before trickling her fingers down my cheek. Her eyes are glued on mine and
the parting of her lips represents this subtle awe she feels when I touch her. My words are completely honest. She is so
fucking beautiful, causing a 162 year old vampire to feel fictitious butterflies fluttering inside of him. I reach under my
body to rub her thigh in my palm, attempting to coax her legs apart, even just a little so that I can position myself between
her hips. Her fingers are lost in my raven locks, scrunching the strands in her hands. She smirks and then giggles and
then tugs me down to her lips.
The growing hardness of my cock is becoming too much, like a gradual suffocation of my yearning lungs. For a moment
in time, my erection brushes against the apex of her thigh, and she winces. Luckily there is a sudden distraction when
my tongue begins to decorate her body with warmth, so much that she can't help but moan or maybe it is a groan...or
some noise that just cannot be described with words. Instinctively, her spine arches, pushing her hips upward until they
collide with my hovering chest.
I begin to consider the possibility of going through with it. Obviously Elena is enjoying my touch, my kisses, my tongue.
She sees it as affection...because it is. And still, I shudder at the thought of pinning her down and taking her like I had in
the dream. I could never do that, but what if this gentle love is a rational course of action? Even in my indecisiveness, my
lips devour hers, this time with so much need, so much tension, as if this hesitance can only be settled by her
prolonged, intoxicating kisses.
"Elena," I mumble, hooking my arm under her knee and adjusting her so that both of her legs are cradling my hips.
The flat of my forehead presses to the valley between her breasts for a few minutes while I close my eyes and compose
myself. I listen to the rhythmic panting of her lungs and how with every intake of air, my head is elevated for just a fleeting
second. She gently pulls her fingers through my hair until I finally move myself to gaze into her eyes. Not long after, the tip
of my cock touches her entrance, her body tensing and the sudden panic obvious in her brown spheres.
"No, shhh shhh," I hush, rubbing her arms up and down in long, firm strokes.
"Daymond," She warbles, but I continue to muffle her.
I begin to softly hum 'You Are My Sunshine', right next to her ear, being sure not to use the word 'love' as the lyrics
originally intend. The words leave my lips in a velvety tone and Elena closes her eyes. It takes some time, but she begins
to relax and I can see the fear wash from her features. I kiss her throat softly, whispering the lyrics over and over. My voice
is trembling, her body is trembling, and even the air between us seems to be trembling. When she opens her eyes, I
mouth the words 'it's okay' before thrusting my hips with a supernatural adrenaline, with so much force that she doesn't
even have time to shed a tear or whimper a plea.
Even so, the horrid snapping sound of her hymen tearing from her body is loud enough to make my heart skip a beat.
She stops breathing for a moment, her eyes as wide as her body will allow. Maybe she is in shock or denial or just too
much pain that her body doesn't have time to fully react. I pull out of her as quickly as I enter her, unable to do any more to
her. Blood covers my penis when I look down, but I click my eyes away, trying to avert her attention from the sight.
Although the sobs take an agonizing twenty seconds to blare, they come, shriller, more heart-stopping than I could have
ever imagined.
"I'm so sorry, Elena," I beg, "Baby, it's okay. No more pain."
I wrap my arms around her skinny frame, holding her firmly against me. My lips kiss her cheek over and over in a
desperate apology and she just lays there like I've paralyzed her entire body. The wails grow and grow until I swear it is
simply deafening. In this time, I swaddle her like a child, pushing hair out of her face and finding something comforting
about the crook of her neck. She tries to reach her hand down between her legs, but I snatch her wrist softly. I can't let her
see what I've done. The smell of her hot breath fans against my face, distracting me from the intense scent of blood
filling the air. And although I don't expect it, she holds my shoulders and tugs me tighter to her body as if I'm the bullet
proof shield keeping her from death's cold hands.
"I b-believe you," She stammers, drenched in tears and probably betrayal, "I-I-I trust love."
Author's Note: Thank you for reading and sending me such sweet reviews of encouragement!
P.S. This is considered Dubious Consent and not rape. Elena did not say no, but she also did not say yes, hence the
dubious part. Also, Elena will not get pregnant since there was no ejaculation. More to come on that!
Chapter Review:
1) Elena reacts badly to Damon's little exploration of her lower half out of confusion and fear (I would also freak out if
someone stuck their finger in me and I had no idea why)
2) Damon has a nightmare about his fears of hurting Elena
3) Damon shows Elena a detailed sex scene to try and help her understand
4) Elena becomes curious about her body
5) Damon goes through with it
Love you! Thank you so much for your support! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 16*: Chapter 16
Author's Note: Thank you to LiveBreatheVampires for editing this chapter.
P.S. Originally, this chapter was 5,600 words and so I had to take out numerous scenes and reconfigure it to get it
where I wanted. I'm hoping that the scenes I took out can be incorporated into future chapters in some way!
Thank you so much for your support and your patience! xoxo Ren
In life, we sometimes convince ourselves that we can feel the pain of others, and therefore, others can feel our own pain,
as well. Believe me when I say that they cannot. People can claim to see your anguish, but feel? No, no one could
possibly feel Elena's pain or even mine. That same fateful night, I lie awake holding her exactly the same way I always
have; wrapped in my arms like a protective cage, with her face in the hollow between my head and shoulder. I'm scared
to let go of her, to loosen my grip on her body.
And if tears had a distinct scent, the skins of Elena's cheeks would set the standard. When I believe no more tears can
leak from her eyes, they prove me wrong time and again. Even in her sleep, I will occasionally feel one splash against
my shoulder, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if she is awake. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, but I do, my body
turning out a switch when even it becomes too tired of drowning in guilt and remorse and regret.
This morning, Elena spends a great deal of time in the bathroom. She requests to be by herself, shutting the door as
soon as she steps inside the space. The stagnant whooshing sound of the shower plays for some minutes before I
reach for my cellphone, finally convinced that the best thing I can do for Elena is to be selfless. It's as if I want to make it
up to her, to gain back her trust.
I wish I could say that I wasn't fucking offended that she wanted to be alone. Never before has she ever bathed alone,
dressed alone, or so much as asked to be alone. It hurts and scorches and tears me apart inside. The smile I give her
when she tells me is faker than a bad wig. I guess somewhere deep within me, I want her to need me. I want to feel like I
have a purpose, a reason for being in her life. If not for love, then for what? I never imagined feeling so hurt by something
so small, something so seemingly innocent.
The slick black phone in my hand stares back to me, blank and lifeless. A deep breath is all it takes for me to finally
illuminate the screen and then dial that familiar number. There is a long ringing that seems to vibrate the entire device,
and I swear it feels like a month has passed when Caroline ultimately answers. Her voice is a high, peppy tone and her
first words are not words at all, rather a bubbly giggle that spurs from her lungs. I'm inexplicably nervous about this
conversation. Caroline is understanding and sweet, but this favor does not come without some questionability.
"Hey," I say softly to start.
"Damon, I had those photos printed by the most incredible photographer. They came out a-may-zing!" The vampire
carols enthusiastically.
"T-the photos from the tree decorating?" I ask, simply to make conversation.
My throat begins to tighten, and the moment the pounding of the water against the shower ceases, a panic trickles over
me. I know Elena isn't the best at understanding English, but what if out of everything, she comprehends the favor I am
asking of Caroline? I need to hurry this up.
"Of cou-," The blonde begins.
"Caroline," I interject, "I called to ask you a favor. C-could you run to the store and get me a few things? I don't want to
leave Elena home alone when she's not feeling well." In actuality, I would most certainly bring Elena with me if it weren't
for the reason as to why I am buying these items.
I nearly gasp for air when I finish speaking, pressing my palm over the phone so that the woman can't know just how
tense this topic makes me. The sweat has already begun to find its way to the surface of my palms, a cold, clammy dew.
"Of course! Oh Damon, what do you need me to get? Please be a sparkly dress for Elena!" She laughs.
My lips freeze until finally, the words start to flow.
"I need a 10 milliliter small animal feeding syringe, like the ones in the pet section, and then a sterile specimen cup. I'll
give you the money the next time-"
"No, no, no. You owe me nothing, silly. It's not every day a girl gets asked to go on a shopping mission." Her voice is
sincere and the sharp spike in her pitch is enough to settle my fear of burdening the busy creature. "Do you think the
pharmacy up near you would have both of them? If not, I'll go to the pet store afterward."
"I'm pretty sure they'll have both. I just need the smallest syringe you can find, one without a needle, of course. We're
rehabilitating a small bird with a broken wing and-" She cuts my lie off before I can even finish it completely.
"I am totally up for the challenge, don't worry" Caroline's voice drowns out as soon as Elena
emerges from the bathroom, wearing one of her favorite floral dresses.
Her eyes don't meet mine for a long bout, but when they do, her gaze is shy and hesitant.
"...I'll drop it off as soon as I can. Bye." I mumble a farewell to the voice inside the phone before shutting it off.
Elena is just a few feet away, hugging her cardigan sweater to her chest. The beige material is draped over her arms,
ready at any moment to be thrown across her nearly bare shoulders. Her hair is as dry as she could manage to get it.
The strands are still glossy with moisture, wild and uncombed. The color of her skin is rather wan and her irises are
darker, so much so that the black pupils look as though they extend into the dark brown pools.
"Hey angel." I fiddle with one of my fucking cuticles, smiling up at her from where I am seated on the end of the bed.
"Who that?" She whispers, twisting her body from side to side and holding her sweater harder against her.
"Caroline," I tell her.
She simply nods, clicking her eyes downward whilst walking toward the door of our bedroom.
"Elena," I nearly shout, standing up in an urgent plea. "I'll make you food."
She swivels her neck around to look at me from the doorframe. As I begin to move toward her, she shakes her head at
me.
"I can do," She mutters timidly, disappearing into the void of the hallway before I can mutter another word.
I listen to her feet traipsing methodically down the steps, growing more distant with every moment that passes in time.
As before, I can't help the hurt that immerses my heart, the organ that is still trying so hard to burgeon into something
more understanding, more human. My body crumples onto the mattress, my shoulders slumped forward and my head
bowed. These emotions are the reason I gave up my humanity, the reason I wanted to have the ability to turn off my
feelings. When you care so deeply for a person, their approval of you is all that matters. Nothing else does. Now she
hates me, she wants nothing to do with me. That flourishing heart of mine has already begun to wither again, and this
time, I'm not sure it can be saved.
The back door clicks shut moments later, and my eyes grow. Instinctively, I stumble toward the staircase, pushing off of
the railing for a burst of momentum. I run to the den, staring out the massive windows and huffing for that extra ounce of
oxygen. Elena is outside in her new peacoat, the matching white gloves hugging her hands. She roams around, going
nowhere in particular as an itinerant would so graciously do. But Elena has a home, she belongs here with me. She
wants her space and so I give it to her, not without a selfish reluctance, but in the end, it is always going to be Elena's
will.
I sigh, shuffling my feet toward the kitchen. The room is empty, cold, and unwelcoming. My eyes scan the room for the
evidence of her morning meal. The sink is empty, the bowls exactly where they always sit stacked one upon the other.
The container of oatmeal is still just as full as it was the day before. My brows knit together, my lips wrinkled in a
confused stance. The doorbell then chimes just as I set the oatmeal back onto its rightful shelf. All I can muster is a
somber grumble.
I can hear the wood creak beneath my toes, the only sound to fill the entire expanse of this house. No laughter of a doe-
eyed girl or the pitter patter of our feet as we journey from the den to the kitchen for dinner. There are no Disney movies
singing cheerful tunes or even so much as the echo of our lips colliding when the desire to feel each other becomes too
much to handle. That's the sad part, this house is nothing without its inhabitants, without the joy of its people. Caroline's
voice is the first inharmonious clamor to fill the empty air of the place. Her teeth are the color of the rich white snow all
around her and I can see how hard she is using those bright pearls to bite her tongue. She is like a time bomb, the
excitement spreading through her veins until she can no longer stand to remain humble.
"You're going to love, love, love your Christmas gift. You and Elena are going to have a tizzy when you see it!" The bubbly
blonde chirps, bouncing on the tips of her toes.
She pulls a picture frame out of the shopping bag, shoving it into my hand eagerly. The thing is as heavy as a fucking
brick and I almost drop the thing out of surprise. The frame is composed of a lush garden of bronze and silver flowers
made from thick strands of metal shaped into a floral arrangement. Inside the border, two recognizable creatures
encompass the image. Elena's arms are stretched above her head as she places an ornament onto one of the tree's
branches. My hands are on her waist, lifting her into the air and smiling adoringly up at the woman in my hold. That
sweet chuckle of Elena's is captured in the picture, a moment I hope to recreate every moment of her life. I smile just a
smidge, brushing my fingertips over the glass protecting the delicate paper.
"Thank you, Caroline," I whisper, still mesmerized by the gift. "It's beautiful."
"Woohoo! You love it! Good," She cheers excitedly before handing me the plastic shopping bag, "Here's the stuff you
asked for. The pharmacy luckily had everything."
Her blue eyes warm mine, maybe because Caroline has this warmth about her, nurturing. It's no wonder why Elena
loves being with her. All I can do is thank this insanely caring vampire. She is just another reason why I have to do this.
How can I be responsible for the death of a supernatural woman with more compassion than the average human? It's
simply not possible.
"If you ever need anything, Damon, you call me right up, okay?" She beams.
I nod, smiling a tad. "That means so much. Thank you."
She turns toward her parked car and vanishes within a minute, taking off for the endless winding road to her home. The
fact that she lives almost forty five minutes away and still came to me in my time of need, I could never show enough
gratitude. The picture frame in my hand continues to encompass my attention, even as I walk toward the kitchen to look
at the supplies Caroline has purchased. I take each item out, one by one, smiling when I realize it's exactly what I need.
The cabinet is where I shove the bag, giving it a home until I am ready to open it again.
As before, the house is too quiet. I don't think I can take another moment in here. My eyes glance out the window to look
at Elena. What I see causes my feet to creep closer to the glass. She's walking along the perimeter of the property, right
where the flowers have withered and frozen from the cold. Some, if not all, of the plants are simply dormant and will
blossom come spring. For now, their branches droop from the weight of the snow, and the promise of a new flower
cocoons itself away from the chilled exterior, praying that the bud will survive long enough to find spring.
And you know what? All those buds begin to bloom, right before my eyes. No it's not spring, it's the touch of Elena's hand,
now gloveless and bare. As she walks, her fingers trickle over the dead bushes behind her, instantly giving life to them. I
am in shock, in amazement, and in awe at what I am seeing. In front of her, a line of lifeless plants, behind her, a trail of
healthy flowers, as if summer is in full bloom. Pinks and yellows tug at my eyes. How? How does she do this? I snatch
my jacket and throw it on as I step out the back door. It's then that I realize Elena's strides are long and slow, as if her
entire world has crashed and this is the most effort her legs will allow amidst her despondence.
I am quick, nearly sprinting across the yard to where she aimlessly walks. The deep shoe impressions in the snow
guide me right to her, even though I can already see where she is from my position. The flowers behind her are
gorgeous and I touch one for a moment just to reassure myself that they are real.
"Elena," I whisper.
Her body zips around and her lips are parted in surprise. The warmth of her breath can be seen in the frigid air, and she
just stares at me.
"Talk to me, baby," I beg, "Please."
"I fine," She whispers.
"No you're not," I accuse, taking another step toward her.
She is silent for a long moment, her eyes not meeting my searching gaze.
"Daymond, no look at me," She finally whines, turning her back to me and shattering to the frozen ground.
I gasp, closing the distance between us. My hands are already rubbing her back by the time the first sob leaves her. The
snow melts against my jeans, creating two wet pools. Contrarily, the wetness of Elena's cheeks becomes a slippery ice
rink after its prolonged exposure to the harsh winter air. I hold her to my chest, allowing her to release every ounce of
emotion within her.
"What aren't you telling me? Elena, what's wrong?" I beg.
I already have my speech prepared. The one where I explain my actions from last night. The one where I apologize and
tell her that I will never hurt her again. The one where I tell her that I found a compromise, one where I won't have to make
her feel like that ever again. The words are foaming at my mouth, but Elena beats me to the chase.
"The p-pain not stop," She cries.
"Show me the pain," I ask hesitantly.
I feel I already know where she is going to point, but maybe I ask it as a way of reassurance for myself, to make sure that
I can tell her that the pain will go away and never come back. To my shock, her fingers reach for the back of her neck,
right where the tattoo covers her flesh. She curls her nails as if clawing at some intangible pain.
"Baby, what were you doing in the bathroom this morning?" I beg urgently.
"No," She sobs in hysteria.
"Tell me, Elena. I want to help you." I scoop her body up into my arms so that her bare legs are no longer touching the
snow.
She uses her hands to show that something came out of her mouth.
"You threw up?" I ask.
"Make pain stop," She whimpers, relentlessly raking her nails against her tattoo.
"Being outside is not going to make you better," I mutter, pulling our bodies from the ground. "You're still recovering from
that sickness, baby."
"I sorry." Her voice is small and her lips are chapped, shivering and cold like my own.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I yearn.
"I scared." And at that, I completely understand. She didn't want to be a burden on me.
"It's my job to take care of you, okay?" I tell her, "I am going to take care of you."
I tuck her into bed, bundling her body with blankets and fuzzy robes and socks that no person should be seen in. Her
eyelids tumble shut almost as soon as I have her beneath the sheets with the heating pad. The sound of Wall-E muffles
in the background as she sleeps and it coaxes the slightest subconscious smile to anchor itself on her still chilled lips.
When I know that her body is at a decent temperature and she no longer resembles an ice box, I finally leave her long
enough to grab the shopping bag downstairs. The items stare at me, questioning my intentions, and even I feel the
hesitancy. I'm doing this all for Elena. There is no room left in my capacity to hurt her. Her tears break me, flood me with
pain. This is what I have to do. This is my compromise, for the sake of Elena and for the sake of my own kind.
I stroll to the first floor bathroom, pulling the sterile specimen cup from the thin cardboard box and peeling the protective
seal from the lid. It looks as though I'm giving a fucking urine sample to test for some horrid, debilitating disease, but I'm
not. Instead, I'm creating my own 'do it yourself' sperm donation. I rest the opened cup and lid side by side on the
counter, moving to remove the syringe from its package. This one is a tiny little tube no bigger than my finger. The label
says it's meant for feeding baby creatures. Instead of feeding one, I'm making one. The thought sends chills all
throughout my body.
My hands grip the countertop nervously. I'm in no mood to do this. Stuff like this requires lust and libido and excitement,
all which I have none of. I try to think of Elena, a time where she never stopped smiling. The button of my jeans snap
open with the help of my fingers, and I shimmy the pants down my thighs. I try to imagine us in a field somewhere, the
warmth of the sun beating down on our bodies, one where her fingers trace my muscles, starting with chest and moving
toward my abs. I smile at the thought of her giggle echoing in my ears just before she attacks my lips, whispering my
name against my mouth. Just the way it rolls off her tongue is enough for me to grip the counter until my nails are
scraping against the stone.
Her lips on me and I'm holding her, running my hands up her thighs and then her hips and finally her breasts. My
breathing is so heavy and all my weight is on that fucking counter. I can taste her lips and hear her heart thump against
me. Her hands pull at my hips, begging me to enter her. I do and it's exactly as I imagine heaven to be. I struggle to get
the cup ready, too bewitched to even think straight. The intensity is so strong that I barely realize that my semen is waiting
inside the cup. Moreover, the world around me is still shuddering in sync with the aftermath of my release.
While Elena is still in her deep slumber, I take the specimen cup and the syringe to where she is sleeping. My hands
peel back the covers until I can see her skinny frame wrapped up in an abundance of warm fabrics. She is lying on her
side, her knees tucked up toward her chest. I set the supplies on the bedside table, unscrewing the sealed lid of the jar
and using the small syringe to extract the liquid. There is only about a teaspoon, just enough I suppose. When all is said
and done, I take a deep breath. This is my last chance to back down. The conflict, the regret, it's all there in this moment.
Ultimately, I reach out for the knee closest to me, pulling it upward so that it separates from the company of her other. My
unoccupied hand leads the syringe down between her hips, gently sliding the tip into her vaginal entrance. I push the
syringe up as far as it will go before applying pressure to the plunger. Right then, the cream-colored liquid seeps from it.
I recoil my hand quickly, and yank her knee upward so that her ass leaves the mattress. I take the opportunity to stuff a
pillow beneath her hips to elevate them and make sure that the the gravity pulls the liquid toward her cervix. Elena half-
consciously groans, peeling open just an eyelid.
"It's okay baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek gently. "Go back to sleep."
"Mmmhh," She grumbles, closing her lonely eyelid and falling back into a peaceful slumber.
I repeat this little endeavor three more times the following three nights, nervous as the winter solstice becomes so close
that it causes me to physically shake thinking about it. Elena's headaches have gotten worse with each passing day and
I have become fearful. She's afraid to eat, believing that with it will come another round of puking. I kiss her head and
remind her each night that the sickness will end soon enough.
"I-I want you," She had whimpered, snuggling up against my body.
I stroked her face gently, kissing her temple in a sweet peck. A soft whimper escaped her lips in that moment, and I
quietly hushed her.
"I'm right here, Elena. Shhh" Even those words seemed like a futile attempt at reassurance.
Is this pain a symptom of the hopeful pregnancy bubbling up inside of her, or of something much darker? How can she
be getting worse instead of better? Nothing makes sense anymore. I can't lose Elena. The pain would be too great, and
at that point, there would nothing left of Damon Salvatore worth saving. Everything's going to be okay, though, isn't it? I've
done everything I was asked to do. Now...I just wait.
Tonight is the 18th and I feel good. Elena is busy watching a new princess movie that I bought her online. It came in the
mail, and she has begged me to watch it with her ever since the postman left. Her eyes still cannot fathom watching a
movie she hasn't seen at least a hundred times before. While she's preoccupied, I read some shitty car magazine, trying
to look like I'm not interested in what she is viewing.
She seems better today, smiling like she used to. Her cheeks have some color in them again and she finally ate a
decent amount of oatmeal. Bonnie has given up calling, and really, I am grateful for that. Whenever I hear her voice, I am
reminded that the solstice is so close. What if Elena doesn't get pregnant? The longer I ponder, the harder it becomes to
stay sane.
"Elena, apple picking? Tomorrow?" I question in simple terms.
My finger points to a picture in a magazine and she nods with a smile.
"Good. I'll ask Caroline and Enzo to come with us." I feel good tonight. Maybe I will actually get a good night's sleep.
When I move to turn out the lamp on my bedside table, I feel Elena scramble from the bed frantically. She stumbles,
clutching her abdomen moments prior to grabbing at the bedside table and then the dresser for support, all in a state of
panic. Her arms flail as she tries to find something to keep her standing, but it all fails. Her legs suddenly give out from
under her body, sending her right to the harsh wood flooring.
"Elena," I shout in complete shock and alarm.
Red vomit cascades from her lips, smothering the floor in front of her knees. There is so much blood that my heart races
in terror. I am right beside her on the floor, reaching my hand out to hold her hair out of her face comfortingly, but no
sooner have I touched her locks do I pull back. Something's not right. A thick clump of hair sits in my palm, so solemnly,
so innocently.
Even so, there is nothing virtuous about your tendrils fluttering down from your head and into a pool of your own blood;
not a damn fucking thing.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed!
Chapter Review:
1) Elena is inexplicably independent at the start of the chapter...only do we come to find out that her sickness had
worsened and she was hiding this from Damon for fear of being a burden.
2) Damon asks Caroline to pick up the items he needs for a DIY sperm donation as an alternative to having to put Elena
through more trauma.
3) Caroline's Christmas gift to Delena is a framed photo of the tree trimming. It is beautiful.
4) Elena uses her powers to bloom the dormant flowers in the yard.
5) Elena is experiencing a strong pain in her neck that won't go away.
6) Damon inseminates Elena via syringe while she sleeps...four times in total.
7) After Elena begins to feel better, things suddenly grow worse in an instant, one in which her hair begins to fall out and
she throws up bloody vomit.
Super, duper evil cliff hanger! xoxo Ren
*Chapter 17*: Chapter 17
Author's Note: Thank you bunches to my wonderful friend and beta, LiveBreatheVampires, for her help and support with
this chapter! xoxo Ren
I can hear as her nails scratch the wood flooring desperately, the vomit splattering all over her hands and chest. She
cranes her neck to look at me with an expression that emanates shame and embarrassment, all while holding back
tears. Droplets occasionally dribble from her ajar lips, her lungs panting vigorously through the shock.
"Daymond," She whispers wearily, too weak to speak any louder.
"It's okay," I snap, panicking, even though I have to keep calm.
Her palms are planted on the stable wood flooring, bracing her trembling arms. I hold her delicate locks back as a small
squirt of vomit again spews from her. The contractions of her stomach heave and churn until Elena's arms finally
collapse. My hands snatch her body before it can plummet to the wet wood below, the action knocking the wind right out
of her already tired lungs. I turn my body and drag her backward and away from the blood so that I can effectively comfort
her. Cupping her face in my palms, I force her to look at me. Her eyes droop, barely staying open enough to glance in
return.
"I'm going to fix this, okay? You have to trust me, Ellie." I push her hair back out of her goop-covered features.
Her lips are dry except for the crimson blood, parted in a sleep-like state and panting the horrid scent of human retch. I
kiss her temple, trying to keep myself from losing sanity. Already, I can see that there is no point in trying to salvage her
fluid-soaked nightgown, so I use it as a bib, wiping the vomit from her mouth. She doesn't fight me, closing her eyes
instead and allowing a tear to trickle down her temple. I feel her neck snap backward when I retract my hand from the
base of her skull, just long enough to disrobe her body. My hands pull the fabric right over her head and Elena softly
grunts.
The nightgown is chucked aside right before I return the support of my palm to the back of her head so that it no longer
dangles toward the floor. This fear that pumps through my blood is so strong, as if soaking into the crevices of my soul. I
take the time to wipe any more of the mess from her skin, trying to keep her from crying in the process. When I finally lay
her naked silhouette on the mattress, the sheets cradle her soothingly.
"Daymond?" She quietly begs, reaching out to touch my face.
"I'm right here-" I choke up.
"Good," She cries, closing her eyes. "No go."
"I won't, baby. I'm r-right here," I whisper whilst stroking her cheekbone.
Another clump of hair detaches from her scalp when I touch her, and I hold the liberated lock in my hand. The clenching
of my throat creates a blockade for my lungs, but I feel each individual strand between my fingers and it soothes me for
just a moment. She is already asleep by the time I move to clean up the mess on the floor. The smell is becoming
intoxicating, not to mention the distraught sight, more like a crime scene than a bedroom full of warmth and succor. I
grab some rags out of the linen closet that the cleaning staff uses when they're here. It's a fairly quick cleanup and
although I lose track of time, I realize that the movie playing is already an hour in, a timetable of this tragic night.
"Daymond," Elena whimpers from the bed when I'm washing out the contaminated rags.
Her voice pulls me back into reality, I suppose. My fingers relax, dropping the cloth in my hand, as if too tired to continue.
The fabric slaps against the bowl and I immediately shut the flowing water until it terminates. As I walk, the hand towel I
use dries my shaky palms.
"I'm right here," I whisper in her ear once I'm beside her on the bed, grabbing her waist and pulling her against me
beneath the white sheets.
Her body is surprisingly warm when it brushes my chest. She sniffles a little, but folds her lanky arms around me in
relief. For some time I carefully kiss her neck, holding her closer against me and humming softly. It is a peaceful
moment for us. The television goes silent eventually, although I'm not exactly sure how. There is just so much pain in my
heart. I have no choice left but call Bonnie and fucking figure this out. For now, I will fall asleep beside my angel, the only
light amongst this darkness.
The sun sprouts from the horizon like an elderly jack-in-the-box, slow but steady, easing into its programmed function. Its
rays just barely filter through the window of our room and I can safely say that opening my eyes is a battle in itself this
morning. Still, the more the sun shines against my face, the harder it becomes to fight it. Elena is still hugging my body,
but she is on my other side, her cheek pinned against my abdomen. I sigh, reaching across the mattress to where I
know the necklace is meticulously hidden. The box pops open with a snap of my finger and there it is, sparkling,
glittering, refracting in the beam of light illuminating the bed. In that moment, I can't help but softly brush my thumb over
the pendant. It is stunning, just like my Elena. I stuff the entire jewelry box into the elastic of my boxers, hoping it is strong
enough to keep there as I walk.
After only five minutes of being conscious, I muster up the strength to leave the bed. This supposed oasis is only making
me more upset, as if I'm laying in my own despondence. Elena's dried tears act as an adhesive when I sit up, the area
where our skin touches nothing more than a sticky film. Even in the midst of this observation, I hear a small groan from
her lips. Her skin is prickled, shivering from the cold air against her bare flesh. Within moments, I have torn the sheets
from the bed, wrapping her twig-like body in their warmth. White is certainly her color, so angelic, so innocent, and so
beautiful.
This morning no words are needed, not for anything. I say nothing, she says nothing, there is only silence as I move to
get out of bed. When I move, she moves, and before long her arms and legs entwine my muscled body so that I can
carry her. Our chests are pressed together, one of her legs on either side of me, and almost immediately, her face is
back in the crook of my throat. The bed sheets pool towards the floor in a waterfall of fabric, nearly tripping me as I take
each delicate step down the elaborate staircase. The den is much darker than our bedroom and from where we
eventually sit down, one could believe that a rainstorm is soon to come.
I feel like fucking shit this morning. Even so, the leather is cold against my flesh and I swear an eternity has passed by
the time the feeling perishes. Elena sits up to look at me soon enough, and when she does, the fabric of the sheets
sinks in a heap around her hips, revealing her pebbled breasts. The pupils of her eyes beckon me all of sudden,
searching my orbs for something, anything. When I finally muster up the courage to gaze back, I see how tired she looks.
Her eyes droop like wet mud. She looks sad and sickly and thoroughly exhausted of life.
My hands feel for the waistband of my cotton shorts and they pat the outline of the necklace case. I pull it from the elastic
until I can unveil it to her sagging orbs. The air fills with a small gasp, and I can promise you, it wasn't from me. Our eyes
meet every few seconds, only in the moments when her attention isn't compelled by the jewelry in my palms. Her right
hand ventures toward the metal until she can pinch it between her thumb and index. I can't help but smile. On the back
on the medallion, I had the jeweler engrave 'To My Sunshine, Elena' in script with 'November 14th 2014' just below it.
That is the day we met. One day, I hope she can read those words and understand just how much she means to me.
"Elena," I whisper, "This is yours. For you."
She pulls her eyes from the necklace to look at me in shock. I nod with a smile, moving it toward her as confirmation. I
take the chain from its display, allowing it to dangle from my fingers momentarily, while pushing her messy brown locks
to one side. I unhook the clasp and lead it up to her neck. Her eyes follow my hands until the chain sits delicately over the
protrusion of her collarbone. Carefully, I clip the two ends at the back of her neck. Elena closes her eyelids as I do,
unable to hide her smile.
"Merry Christmas, baby," I hum against her lips before softly kissing them.
Although Christmas is less than a week away, I cannot bear another second to wait for it. I touch the tips of my fingers to
the swirled metal pendant, the gold and silver strands entwining around the encrusted diamonds. Elena brings her hand
up to where mine is on her necklace. She smiles from ear to ear, readjusting her body on my lap. She is just inches from
my face, content. Soft hands come to cup my cheek gently and she smiles as always.
The girl hugs me with so much strength, a paralyzingly amazing embrace. Her breasts push against my solid pecs and
fuck, I want to taste her lips with mine. They are a warm cranberry this morning, and Elena doesn't know it, but her kisses
drive me wild. Her mouth hovers beside my ear for some time as she continues to hold me against her.
"You're my princess," I whisper, turning to kiss her sweet cheek.
A small giggle reverberates from her lungs and she leans back to look at me once again. I move my lips to her
collarbone, kissing a trail toward the necklace. I pull the pendant into my mouth, tugging on it and gently setting it back
onto her chest. Her breathing spikes when I continue painting a trail of my kisses above her breasts. Soft palms cup her
ribs, just below the two perky masses, exploring her chest with my warm lips.
"Do you love me?" She mumbles softly, her eyes following as my lips taste her olive flesh.
How can she ask me this? I can't. I just can't say the words. Part of me still knows that I am not capable of love, that I
don't deserve it. It's just too complicated to even explain because well, love is a convoluted concept, something I have
never grown to understand through the years.
"Shhh," I whisper, moving my lips so that they are level with hers, "Kiss me, Elena."
I carefully suckle her pout, nipping at her fragile lips. It takes her some time to reciprocate, curious as to my avoidance of
her simple question. Still, there is no rudimentary answer. I can't lie to her, not to Elena. She means too much to me. I
pull her tight against my chest again, rubbing her back lightly. That's when I notice a dark mark along her protruding
vertebrae. I jerk her body so that I can get a better look and I nearly cry out in horror.
There are clusters of large grey, blue, and black bruises trailing along her spine. They pool in swarms, right from her
tattoo down to her tailbone. I touch them in concern and they disappear momentarily below the shield of my palm. I press
harder, moving my fingers to see if anything changes. Out of nowhere, Elena chokes out a distressed sob.
"Stop," She whimpers, climbing off my lap.
There is a long moment where she stands there naked, hugging the sheets for comfort. I can't bear it, the tears, the pain.
"Baby, go to the kitchen, okay? I'll be right there." Her eyes glance at me once more in the midst of her quivering bottom
lip.
She begins stepping toward the entrance of the room, allowing me to view her entire backside. The bruises are this
dark, ominous shade that reminds me of death. My hands tremble as I reach for my cellphone, the girl already vanishing
into the kitchen with the white bed sheets dragging behind her on the floor. I dial as fast as I can force my fingers to. They
fumble and each time I have to start again inputting the number. Luckily it only takes one short ring before a voice
answers.
"Something's not right," I spit through the fear and the anger. "She's throwing up bloody vomit, her fucking hair is falling
out, there are big ass bruises decorating her fucking spinal cord which I can see because...you know what else, Bonnie?
She won't eat."
"That's-" The witch begins to sputter.
"I did everything you asked. She is in so much fucking pain," I hiss whilst slamming the heels of my feet against the
flooring.
"As I was saying, that means it's working." Her voice sounds relieved, almost surprised.
"What's working?" I huff out of confusion. "This is some sick and twisted shit."
"Those symptoms are just that. They coincide with your child's conception. It means that she's pregnant."
The words take all but a few moments to fully sink in. Elena is going to carry our child. Thoughts of a little baby inside of
her causes my stomach to clench nervously. I'm going to be a father, Elena a mother.
"When is the pain going to stop?" I question finally, desperate for some good news for Elena.
"That's the thing, those symptoms won't-"
"Hold on a second," I shout abruptly.
I can hear Elena crying from the kitchen, and of course I hastily make my way toward to where she is. The bed sheets are
wrapped around her shoulders and her hands are out in front of her. They thrust forward over and over, but it takes some
time for me to realize that she is attempting to move the drinking glass at the other end of the table. Under her breath she
mutters 'move, please' in a desperate plea. The longer the glass remains inert, the heavier her frustrated sobs become.
"Elena, what's wrong?" I ask, even though I already know.
"Move," She finally shrieks, slamming her fist on the table and causing the entire wooden piece to rattle under her touch.
I press the phone back up to my ear, sighing tiredly.
"Her powers aren't working," I say to the woman.
"A lot of things will be different."
"But the pain, please tell me that it will all vanish soon."
"I was explaining that before. These symptoms won't go away for the duration of her pregnancy. I'm sorry, Damon," She
whispers mournfully.
"No, no. This isn't a part of the deal, Bonnie," I snap.
"There is no deal, Damon. This is her fate. This was always her fate."
Days pass one by one like cars on a street. Elena's powers are gone, no telekinesis, no healing, no flashbacks. Her hair
falls out clump by clump, beginning only on the right side at first. The cravings for food are absent and the bruises
multiply as though overnight they give birth to another litter. I have to beg her to drink water and take shorts walks around
the house to keep her legs moving and healthy. The more I push her, the closer she comes to giving up...what exactly,
I'm not sure yet.
She looks like hell, like Sybil right before she perished into oblivion. This historical repetition breaks me, as if that is even
possible at this point. Elena gave up crying days ago. She has no more energy for that. It's extra special if she even has
enough momentum to kiss my lips, even then her mouth is parched and sour. She still smiles, at least. Everytime I
stroke her body with my touch, her lips curl up, and she tells me how much she needs me, how strong her love is. The
necklace hasn't left its place around her throat and she giggles when I kiss it before she dives into a deep sleep.
There is so much anger inside me. I want to strangle someone, cry, scream into the air. I'm not sure anymore what could
possibly tame this beast I've created over the past month. I feel lost. That's the only way I could describe it. There's
nowhere left to turn with Elena. She looks like she's going to fucking die in my arms, just like my sister. Everytime she
begs me to kiss her neck, I force the tears back. How will I make it through nine months of this? How will I ever prepare
Elena for birth and motherhood and life beyond this horrid nightmare? That's what this is. A nightmare.
Bonnie plans to come over today, to talk to Elena, to hopefully comfort her. She's bringing some doctor to check on the
baby, my baby. I'm still getting used to the thought of that. Some small human calling me 'daddy', a child that belongs to
my soul. I try to imagine our lives, but I'm still in such denial, that I believe it may not be possible at this point. The
cleaning staff scrambles to clean before my guests arrive, not that I care if the house looks anything less than decent. I
spend most of my time beside her on the bed, secretly drinking liquor until I feel numb.
"I still beautiful?" She whispers against my face just inches away.
"Yes, baby. You are so, so, so beautiful," I tell her. "Always."
I scrunch what's left of her long, brown hair, moving it so that I can capture her lips gently. She smiles, closing her eyes. I
can see that the tears have gathered along the seal, trapping the droplets before they can escape. Why does everyone
have to wither away beside me? Answer me that. I nip her lips again and rest my hand on her bulging hip.
"You need to eat," I whisper to her.
"No more, Daymond," She begs, opening her eyes just as a tear flutters from her waterline.
"I'm sorry. I can't let you d-die." Finally I break down.
I protectively yank her against me. I can't take another moment of this. She's turning into a corpse with every passing
moment. Her eyes sink deeper into her eye sockets, her touch grows colder, the light in her face flickers, fading more
each day. Elena comforts me as I cry, a single tear track etched on my cheek. I feel her fingers brush my hair and those
dry lips plant themselves on my head every once in a while with the most soothing kisses humanly possible.
The doorbell rings suddenly, the sound bouncing off the antique walls without hesitation. I take my time stumbling
downstairs to the front door, wiping away evidence of tears. Bonnie is there when I open the barricade, the doctor right
beside her. The man is dressed in simple khaki pants and a tucked in button down. His brown hair is slicked back with
gel and he wears a petite smile too tiny for how long his head is. The bag he carries is an over-the-shoulder leather
pouch, but he awkwardly adjusts the strap when he notices me staring at it. He nods his head as a greeting when the
witch introduces him, and both step inside without hesitation. It's nice to have Bonnie here, to have her care even after
the way I treated her family.
There were nights where little Bonnie would grip the railing of the staircase, pushing her face between the columns of
wood to spectate. She couldn't have been more than seven the first time I realized her peeking eyes. I tried not to let it
dictate my ruthless behavior, not when I was trying to get to Sybil. There had to be a way to see my sister again and it
didn't matter how much time had passed since her death. I knew what I wanted and I would get it, just not in the most
humane way.
"Get out of my house, Damon. Now." Abby was hysterically crying.
"I think you owe me something, Ms. Bennett," I teased cruelly, throwing my legs up onto the small table in the kitchen
casually.
My hands were pressed to the back of my head in a cocky manner as I waited for her to admit her failure. She began to
move her hands in her witchy voodoo way, but I already had her hips jammed against the countertop before she could
get any farther.
"If you fucking use your magic on me, I will hang your little girl from the Eiffel Tower in an instant, got it?" I whispered in
her ear.
"P-Please," She cried, trembling violently in my hold, "Leave her out of this."
Those little eyes stared warily at me from where Bonnie was on the staircase. She saw as I scraped my fangs down her
mother's throat, the way I touched her mother's body like I owned her. Even her father didn't know how I harassed his wife
until she did what I wanted. The woman was trapped under my manipulation like a fucking puppet.
"Bonnie should have a mother, Abby. You wouldn't want me to compel her to believe that your death was your own
doing, now would you?" I muttered in a facetious chuckle.
"I-I'll get you what you want," She sniveled in defeat.
I finally pulled my weight from Abby's backside, smirking in my glory. As I left, I grabbed my jacket and stared intensely
at the witch one last time as a warning, or in retrospect, a brand seared into her mind. Her body trembled and shook
exhaustedly until I disappeared out that front door. There was nothing honorable about what I did to that family, how I tore
them all apart, especially Bonnie. If there's one thing I could say to Abby, it would be 'I'm sorry'.
It's Bonnie's voice that finally tugs me from my daydreaming. Those same timid eyes that watched me for so many years
in her home stare at me now, bright and alert. She's all grown up and yet, Bonnie still struggles to hide her discomfort
around me, as if that little child never grew out it.
"How are you, Damon?" The young witch asks in a concerned tone, "Are you hanging in there?"
"I'll show you Elena," I answer instead.
My legs begin taking each painful step toward the staircase, validating my dismissal of her worry.
"Actually, we were hoping to see her alone." The words cause me to swivel on my heels to face the two.
Their eyes wait patiently as I stand in shock before them. The doctor nervously scratches his head and unbeknownst to
him, I notice the bead of sweat trickling down his hairline. I nod hesitantly, even though something doesn't feel right
about this. The two take no time in passing my firm stature, heading up the stairs. I watch them carefully, suddenly
feeling my stomach twist and contort in fear.
I give it about a minute before the sudden panic is too much to handle. My ears focus on Elena, filtering through the
hundreds of meniscal noises throughout the expanse of this place. Finally, my supernatural hearing picks up her
breathing, and then her weary voice.
"D-daymond," She cries, the only word her lips shakily spew before there nothing but silence.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed!
Chapter Recap:
1) Elena gets worse
2) Damon gives Elena her Christmas gift with the engraving 'To My Sunshine, Elena. November 14th, 2014.'
3) Damon discovers the harsh bruising around Elena's spine and that her powers are gone
4) Bonnie reveals to Damon that these symptoms are a confirmation of pregnancy
5) Damon finally breaks down when the pain and stress become too much
6) Bonnie and a doctor come by to check on Elena...alone...
7) Elena cries out for him before there is silence
Evil cliffhanger, I know! I'm sorry :( Thank you so much for reading and being an amazing motivational support! It means
the world to me! xoxo Ren