Prologue: 'You Are Not Broken. You Are Breaking Through'
Summary: Damon Salvatore lives and breathes darkness. However with his reckless ways he finds himself landing in the hospital being treated by Doctor Elena Gilbert. What happens when a person surrounded by darkness encounters someone with light? Damon is about to find out.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me
Authors Note: Well, this is the first time I'm doing things differently and going into an Alternate Reality. Reviews and feedback are always appreciate and definitely welcomed.
Love is an invitation to pain. The second that you invite it in you're getting the joy, passion, companionship and hope that it can last come along with it. However, every pro has it's con and with that invitation comes the possibility of disappointment, resentment, loss and heartbreak.
Eventually, after some time and careful consideration, you decide to not extend love an invitation. You lock the door. You shut off the light, and you tell them that there isn't anybody home.
Maybe it's a bit melodramatic, but it keeps you from getting hurt. Most importantly, it stops you from having to say goodbye over and over again.
I followed this way of life for years. It never let me down, until now. Which is why I'm here. Where's here you ask?
Therapy.
Yeah, you heard correctly.
I, Damon Salvatore am in therapy because I'm seeking a new way of help. One that's apparently less destructive.
"It's just difficult for me when I go to work and have to hear about people talking about what they did for the weekend. How they spent it with their special someone and I keep asking myself when am I going to find that special someone? Why don't I have that special someone?"
The man whose name that Damon had yet to remember weeps as he whines on about why he hasn't had a date in years.
Well for starters Weepy, you live with your mother. No woman wants to be having you go down on her, and almost reach that pleasure point only to be interrupted by your mom from upstairs asking if you kids are hungry.
"What is wrong with me?" He cried out again.
Damon leaned back into his seat, and bit his tongue back to keep himself from actually answering honestly.
There's also the fact that you look like you took a trip back to the ninetys and took fashion advice from Steve Urkel.
"Wendell, I say this at every session and I will continue to say it," the therapist begins. "Until you have confidence in yourself you're doomed to repeat this cycle over and over again."
Wendell? Seriously, maybe it was his mom's plan all along to have him live with her because honestly it's like she doesn't want him getting laid.
His bright, blue eyes fixing around the room to see if the other participants here thought this guy was a joke. To his surprise,they're all looking at him with sincere understanding and support. Somewhere during Wendell's rant, Damon zones out.
I feel for the guy. Really I do. Not having sex? Sounds like absolute torture. I wouldn't know, because I've never had that problem. You see, I don't mean to sound like a smug bastard but I'm going to be a smug bastard because I'm a good looking guy. It's not me bragging, it's stating facts.
I'm 5'11 in height and I've got a nice build considering I work out along with my extra curricular activities. I have a strong bone structure and I wouldn't ever try this but I'm pretty sure my jaw itself could cut through glass. I have raven hair that hangs just over my ears and a smirk that would cause even the most faithful of women to drop their panties and part their thighs.
So, to sum it up I'm one hell of a good looking specimen. I have the hair that tempts a woman to run their fingers through, the piercing baby blues and the inviting bedroom voice that causes them to shudder in pleasure when I huskily breathe into their ear to take off their dress, slowly. I'm basically the Bad Boy in those romance novels that women escape to because their husbands just aren't doing it for them. So they find satisfaction in me.
It takes Damon a second to realize everyone's eyes are no longer on Wendell but him instead. Arching a solitary brow in their direction.
"It's your turn," the therapist states with a friendly smile.
With all eyes on him, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
I'm used to having eyes on me but that's because of this face. Right now they don't care about what's on the outside. They're all about what's on the inside and I'm not a fan.
"Pass," Damon finally says after a second of silence.
The people in the circle all laugh as the therapist shakes his head. "That's not how this works, buddy. Everyone here has shared their story," he continues, gesturing around the room to the others. "This is a safe space for you, too.."
Folding his arms over his chest, Damon eyes the therapist feeling like he's being reprimanded for saying 'no'. "Yeah, listen Mr-"
"Alaric," the therapist interjects.
"Right," he nods his head in acknowledgement. "Listen, Ric. as thrilling as this all is, I really don't want to be here. I'm more of a watch and learn kind of guy."
"Do you think anyone wants to be here?" Alaric challenges back. "They don't. They're here because they want to get better. They want to do better."
"Well claps for them, then," his tone drips with sarcasm.
"Alright, if you're not going to state the reason why you're here, then from this brief conversation I've had with you and by the way you're acting, I'll tell you why you're here."
This should be fun.
Damon gestures for him to go on.
"You're here because of a girl." Alaric quickly supplies as his eyes remained trained on Damon, watching for his reaction.
Alright, not that much fun.
"Your girl wants you to seek help because of your anger issues, and if you don't, you're going to lose her."
From the way that the man tensed in his seat, Alaric knew he had driven the nail into the coffin. He offers him a triumphant smile. "How'd I do?"
The smugness in Alaric's voice causes Damon's hand to ball into a fist; wanting nothing more than to strike him. Somehow, he resists. Damon sighs heavily. "You're half right. I've already lost the girl."
Just mentioning loss is enough for Damon's posture to break, along with his heart all over again.
Alaric doesn't move a muscle, nor does he miss a beat. His eyes remain trained on the mysterious, dark haired man across from him, knowing that whomever this girl is, she's his Achilles heel. "If you're here," he begins gently, " that means you're carrying hope that this session … that opening up will work in your favor. That alone is a huge step. As intimidating as it is, you're not going to be judged here. We're willing to help you, if you're willing to receive. You just have to make the effort."
Damon glances around the room, looking to every face he sees them nod their head. Strangers, willing to hear him out and let this be a no judge zone. This is new.
He swallows hard as he surrenders to this session. "What do I have to do?"
"Introduce yourself," Alaric instructs.
Simple enough.
"Hi. I'm Damon."
"Hi Damon," the people seated in the circle repeat almost robotically.
Okay, here we go.
"And I have anger issues."
Finally saying it aloud brings on a mixture of shame and humiliation. He turns away because he can't meet their eyes.
"See," Alaric speaks up. "You've just completed the first step by accepting the problem."
The comment causing Damon to flick his gaze back over towards Alaric.
"Now, you said you lost the girl. Was it because of your anger issues?" Alaric gently presses.
"Yes and no," he states cryptically. "It's more so because at the time I felt that losing her was the solution. Until, I realized it was the problem."
From the confused expressions he gets, he smirks, and shakes his head. "This is all new to me.I don't even know where to start." he sheepishly admits.
"Start at the easiest place," suggests Alaric.
His comment causes Damon to arch his eyebrow in curiosity.
"At the beginning," Alaric finishes.
Damon's gaze casts over towards the clock as he reads the time. "I don't want to take up all the time."
"It's okay. Most of us are regulars. Dr. Saltzman is right we're here to listen and help."
For the first time, Damon turns his attention over towards the stranger he had been poking fun at since entering the session. Feeling a wave of guilt for judging so fast he offers a shadow of a smile. "Thanks Wee-" but he catches himself "Wendell."
"See Damon, floor is all yours!" Alaric says with a grin.
He nods his head, and adjusts himself in his chair so he sits up straighter. Uncrossing his arms, Damon rests his hands on his lap. The heels of his boots tapping nervously on the wooden floor while his eyes remained trained on it.
This is it.
Finally, he lifts his gaze from the floor, and turns it to those around him. Noting that every eye is on him, they're silent and waiting for him to continue. Looking at him as if he's about to tell a tale as old as time.
"Then I guess I should start at the beginning."
It's a story that won't make it into any books. No one will waste a breath talking about it or find themselves rooting for the people in it but it's my story and more importantly it's real. It's something I'm realizing now.
"When a person surrounded by darkness encountered someone with light."
End of Prologue