A/N: thanks to JadeAlmasy who beta-ed this. :)
As the clock turns to 10:58 and a breeze shakes the trees, she represses a yawn along with the need to cry. She's exhausted; the day had dragged on for too long. She's a mess, she wants to yell, to tell Stefan that it was her life and her decisions and that he had no right to be mad at her.
She wanted to cry, because suddenly she felt so lonely, because the house where she felt so secure and happy all her life was now cold, full of unwanted memories, of painful words and hurt looks. Waking up at Caroline's house this morning, seemed ages away. And now all she can think about is Stefan, about how he looked at her, hurt, angry.
1:00 am
She's in her parent's bedroom, lying on their bed, alone. After half an hour of standing behind the glass doors, waiting for Stefan to come inside, she gave up and went to bed.
That was two hours ago.
She sighs; sinking deeper into the pillows and thinks she can still smell the faint odor of her mother's perfume and her father's cologne.
When she was a child, she felt safe here, like nothing could ever hurt her because she was lying between mom and dad. It was innocent, thinking that the thunderstorms would get her unless she woke up Jeremy and then ran with him to their parent's bedroom. But life wasn't innocent or simple anymore.
She recalls her sweet 16 party being held here, the first time she got drunk. The first time she got a hangover. Where she learned to swim. She remembers staying here that summer. The summer before it all went to hell, literally.
She feels cold, but too tired to slip out of bed and get another blanket. Stefan's arms around her would've been a better way to warm up. She hears someone closing the back door and footsteps outside of the bedroom, she holds her breath and hopes. But the noise fades, and she is left with the white sound of her own thoughts. This wasn't how she wanted to spend her weekend.
At 1:35 am, Elena chewed the inside of her cheek while studying the ceiling.
She didn't want to be a martyr.
She didn't want to die.
And the more she thought about it, the more she disliked this deal. She was starting to feel choked with it. Would it hurt? Would they just kill her and be done with it, or would she feel every last drop of blood leave her body? Was that in store? A slow and painful death?
Up until now she had feared for her family and friends, for Stefan. But now a small, selfish part of her brain labeled common sense began to sting and she started to fear for herself.
She wasn't a saint. Would she go to hell? Would she be punished for every time she spent the night somewhere else than her bed? For the tequila shots she drank in eighth grade? Or for that time she pushed her little brother down the stairs?
Or God, if there was one, would forgive her? Would she see mom and dad there, wherever "there" was?
She stopped the train of her thoughts, thinking about what would happen after, made it seem more real. And she was afraid.
Afraid that Klaus would kill her family either way. She isn't naïve, she knows it could happen and she has nothing but Elijah's word and hope to protect them. Afraid of what her death would do to her brother, who had lost so much already, who had to grow up too soon and too fast. Maybe Bonnie would help him cope. Elena isn't dumb; she knows those stolen looks at her can only mean one thing.
Caroline and Matt had each other, Jenna had Alaric and Tyler didn't know her enough to care. And then there was Stefan, she knew he was strong, but she can't imagine what it would be like for her if he died-she shudders at the thought- and doesn't want to think of what will happen when it's the other way around. She then thought about Damon, what would he do? She cared about him, she knew behind that mask of snide remarks and sarcasm was a damaged heart, and she wonders if he would suffer.
So that was it, she was going to die, and they probably would never find her body. She would appear at the 6:00 pm news, as a tragic victim of some type of animal. Elena Gilbert, former cheerleader, honor student, popular girl, maybe her death would be attributed to kidnap. She would have a ceremony withouth an empty casket and a tombstone would be placed beside her parent's, she wondered what it would read,
Elena Margaret Gilbert Sommers 1992-2010
Feeling acid bile up her throat she leaps out of bed and runs to the bathroom.
2:03 am
Now she's panting and trying to re-swallow her stomach. She rests her head on the marble of the bathtub and cries. Like she hadn't allowed herself to cry in a long time, and when she thinks she's done, the tears just keep coming, soaking her face and her shirt, making her vision blurry and her head pound with pain. But she keeps crying.
She cries because her parents are both dead, and overnight she was an orphan, because she was adopted and it would've been fine if her biological parents weren't the worst people in the world, because her little brother told her he hated her, because a crazy bitch made her feel the pain of losing someone all over again, because her boyfriend was mad at her, and because she was going to die, and she didn't wanted to.
A while later, that after a look at the clock proves to be two hours, she gets out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom and into the hallway. She can feel her eyes are starting to go back to normal after all the swelling, but her head still hurts. She decides she's being selfish, looking for Stefan so she can finally go to sleep, and she doesn't give a damn. She opens another door. No, he wasn't in Jeremy's room either.
Se walks barefoot around the house, and before going to check her room she finds him asleep on the couch, facing the fireplace, she gets closer and realizes he's not sleep when he raises his head and looks at her with his deep green eyes and plainly states, "I'm still mad at you."
She didn't expect anything less. She held out both hands as to push him away or stable herself, exhaustion getting the better of her.
He pulls himself up, making room for her to sit down. She did and looked sideways, thoughts passed behind his eyes like shadows. He reached out and touched her and she timidly touched his hand back, for god's sakes when had they ever been timid with each other?
She willed her eyes to look towards his face, and when he looked at her, his eyes sparked fire. For him, she was giving up. For her, she was making the right decision. They had reached an impasse.
And as he lowered himself back to the couch, carrying her with him. Tonight was an unspoken understanding. They could keep on fighting and being mad at each other tomorrow, tonight she needs comfort and he needs company, they need each other.
Her head rests on his shoulder, and his hand goes down to the small of her back. Why were they fighting in first place? She doesn't really remember, and as the sound of the fire becomes the only sound in the room, she doesn't care. It makes her feel sleepy and she drifts away.
She didn't want to be a martyr, but there wasn't much of a choice, was there? Everyone dies, or just her.
She thinks she chose wisely.