I know I shouldn't be adding ANOTHER story; I have three in the works as it is. But in my defence, I had this idea for a while now before it slowly began to adapt. I've been reading Dear John (great book, great writer, haven't seen the film) and it sort of brought me to this. Besides, this story will only be ten chapters AT THE VERY MOST – honestly I'm thinking around five, six, seven maybe?
Anyway, I hope you like it. This is only the prologue; once I get to writing more (EXAMS ARE OVER! YES! YES! HIP HIP HORRAY! YAHOOOOOO! NO MORE REVISION!) I will post the next chapter.
Anyway, I hope it gets you wanting more. Let me know.
Disclaimer: I do, I repeat, DO NOT own Vampire Diaries. If I did, don't you think I would have written this IN the actual book/TV series?
XxX
Loss
Prologue
DAMON
If I could do it over, would I do the same thing?
I honestly can't tell you. To be honest, probably, though I experienced so much pain. I don't think I could have gone through another triangle again.
But am I able to say that I haven't missed her? That I haven't thought about her: she's the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing at night? Yeah, right: her face floats swims in my vision when I close my eyes; her voice is like a song from the radio in my head that I just can't get out.
Sometimes, I even believe that I can feel her lips pressed against mine. This is before I fully awaken from slumber, before I remember. But in truth, I try not to remember: I don't want to go into my memories, which are scented with her perfume, littered with her smile, dazzled by her eyes.
It's just...so completely and utterly unfair! How is it that I have felt this ache not once, but twice? And twice at the hands of my brother. Though, this time, I'll admit I was the bigger man; I was the one that backed down. For once in my life, I did the right thing.
Remind me why again?
I can take some comfort in the fact that, this time, I am not the only one suffering. Heartbreak city is populated by two.
ELENA
One weekend. That's all it took: one long, spontaneous, crazy weekend for me to fall in love. Oh, and I fell in love, right in the deep end. You see, I believed I knew what love was: it was caring for someone deeply, wanting to be with them all the time.
But no, love – true, pure love – is something that takes you by the throat suddenly, leaving you gasping for air long afterwards. It is knowing that you would stand in front of a bullet, a lorry, a military tank, just to protect them. It is when they leave and no matter how much eat, how much you drink, how much you go out and spend time with friends, how many boyfriends you have, that hole in your chest won't fill.
How is it possible that you loath someone all the time they're here, and when you finally realise how much you love them, they're gone?