The Sea

Jeremy was dead.

Heart thumping in her throat, Bonnie ran, her legs were heavy and her side felt as if it would split open but still she ran, and each footfall was to the constant chant of - Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

"Bonnie!" Shane yelled after her, begging her to stop, "You can bring them back, Bonnie. You have the power to bring back all our loved ones!"

Bare, skinny tree branches whipped their long fingers and scraped her face as she sprinted through the thick of the woods, kicking up wet dead leaves and dirt.

All you have to do is complete the triangle, Bonnie. 12 souls is all it takes.

Bonnie wasn't running from the possessed professor because she was scared; she was running because she was tempted.

All magic requires sacrifice, Bonnie. Her grams used to say.

"Don't you want to make your friends happy, Bonnie?" The voice that sounded like Shane's didn't come from the mouth of the professor who chased after her, it came as a whisper, like he was inside of her head.

Out her peripheral, she saw them. The dead that is. Vicki Donovan leaned against a tree and waved at her, and smiled as she ran past her, Alaric nodded to her and asked if she needed his help, and Jeremy, Jeremy's sweet face almost made her tumble to the ground, and hearing him call for her broke her heart but she hurtled her body away from their pleading and hollered, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD."

The sparse grass and woods gave way to boulders and rocks and she was surrounded by gray sky and a clear sight of other side of the island. She had run to the end of the earth. She doubled over, out of breath, listening to the crunch of Shane's boots jogging up to her. She held up her hand for him to stay where he was, to not come an inch closer.

"Don't you want to see your loved ones again? I know I do, we can do this together."

She staggered trying to stand up, and she scowled at him, "Leave me alone."

Her grams appeared from behind the professor, her long black cardigan billowed and her somber face morphed into a grin, "Bonnie baby, it's okay, everything's gonna be alright, Silas ain't some bad spirit, he's just grieving like we all grieving, but you can make it all go away, all you have to do is do what he tells you to."

Salt-water brimmed at the end of her lashes even though she knew with her entire being that the thing that held its arms wide open to her and resembled the only mother she had ever known was not her Grams. She couldn't help it, she missed her, and listening to her comforting voice just made her whole body hurt, from her liver to her molars.

Bonnie exhaled deeply, staring at the mirage of her dead grandmother, "You want me to bring you back?"

"More than anything, chile." The thing said.

Split decisions are made in times of distress, and there was a chain of events in Bonnie's life that had prepared her for this moment, like the cliff-diving summer excursions with her father, the countless swim lessons from three to sixteen, and the guilt, the guilt that was taunting her that she wanted to fulfill Silas's plan.

Bonnie stood a little straighter, because that wasn't her Grams, her real grandmother would have told her to tell this man to go to Hell and that's exactly what she did, right before she charged towards him, and his dumb expression, like he had won, until she skid like she was about to slide into third base and turned to run clear off the cliff.

"You're crazy!" His voice echoed as he lunged for her, his arm dangling over the jagged edge, but it was too late. She was mid-air with her feet glued together and head locked in position, she sliced through the water, feeling like she was upper-cut in the chin, she opened her eyes to the watery darkness and she thrashed as water filled her nose and ears and she kicked, kicked with everything she had in her till she reached the surface.

Air. Long gulps of air. She gasped and inhaled as water crashed over her head and pushed into her open mouth, and once she was over the initial shock of what she had done, she nudged off her shoes and with numb fingers she peeled off her sodden jacket as each lap of water that slapped her face, felt like a million pins and needles were slamming into her cheek.

She stretched one arm over the over and started to swim through the freezing water.

She held on to one name.

Damon.

The shore line was less than a mile, all she had to do was swim to the other side and get to Damon.

He would help her.

For what seemed like eternity, Bonnie swam against the tide that constantly pushed her back to where she started. Her already heavy limbs were like lead as they smacked the water, and her kicking slowed down to treading because she couldn't feel her feet.

The water was colder than she had anticipated and the tide kept ducking her under to where she had to fight to keep her head above water.

She wanted to sleep, but sleep is the cousin to death, especially wading through icy water, "Snap out of it," She yelled to herself, resisting the pull.

Bonnie began to pray. She didn't even know to whom she prayed as she struggled with the strong urge to close her eyes.

She thought it might be easier on her to stay awake and reserve her energy if she floated, so she rolled over on her back, but the current kept her near the drop, she wasn't making any progress. She flipped over, submerging herself into the water and weakly paddled to keep her nose above the crest, and she thought of her Grams and Jeremy as her shallow breaths slowed down to nothing, until she heard someone call her name, and she stretched her eyelids open to see Damon. She saw him dive from a boat to come save her. Her head bobbed listlessly under the current, and she relaxed into the exhaustion because he was going to be there soon. Her head went under. She blinked her eyes at the softened small rays of sunlight wavering through the water. Calm and sinking downward, a series of his name left her mouth-but they were lost as soon as they were uttered, transformed into silent bubbles. Her lungs ached, and she closed her eyes, surrendering.

But the sea, the life-giving fluid from where all beings sprung, had seeped into her pores, the same substance that had bogged her down, drenched her to the marrow and pulled her to its bosom at the bottom of its floor, heard her plea, her last prayer, and the sea responded.

DBDBDBDB

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