Hello everyone. My name is Ste but you can call me Soft Sand if you want. My story is based on both the book and the series, but I chose to put it here because the series section is a little more crowded. I won't be following the storyline of either the book or series because, well, that's how fanfics work. This is my first ever fanfic, so let me know what you think. I love constructive criticism as well as compliments, so really tell me what you think. I don't really give much away to my readers, but I'll tell you this, expect to see a lot of Bonnie, Caroline and of course, Elena and the vampire brothers. I'm sorry if my idea is similar to other people's fanfics. Hmm, if it is, would that make it a fanfic based on a fanfic? Interesting.

And of course, I own none of the following.

#

The Mortal Doppelganger

7th of September

It's way too early to be awake, but I've given up trying to sleep.

I wanted to be well rested in preparation for my first day back at high school, but my brain is refusing to shut down. I can't escape my fears for even a moment. Lately I've been pushing so hard to fit back into society, but it feels like the harder I push, the more I'm rejected.

I hate feeling like I no longer belong anywhere. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, lost in every sense of the word. I have spent my entire life in Mystic Falls, and a majority of that time inside this very bedroom, so why do I feel like a total stranger here? Why does my same old furniture and bed feel like they belong to someone else?

I know the answer to that. They DO belong to someone else. A former me. A happier me. The girl who used to get crazily excited whenever she hung out with her friends and used to wake up and not wonder how difficult it would be to get through the day ahead, or the girl who didn't always replay the same memory whenever she closed her eyes.

I will never be able to block it out. My worst memory burns inside my mind like a beacon, pinned to the surface of reality as a constant reminder that my world has been irreversibly turned upside down. I'm trapped inside the same scene of my past, forced to relive it again and again; my parents screaming as the car's wheels lock into place, turning the car into a deadly path; the sound of the tires screeching on the road and the car breaking through the wall of the bridge, the feel of the car shuddering as it collides with the surface of the lake and the sight of it slowly sinking into the abyss. But most vividly, I can remember waking up on the lake's bank with a stranger standing over me, a sympathetic, empty look in his eyes that told me the result of the crash: my parents didn't survive.

Four months later and I am still sat here, unaccustomed to their absence. My mother used to tell me that she would never leave Mystic Falls because "home is where the heart is". Her rule no longer applies to me. This is my home, but this isn't where my heart is. I don't know where it is anymore. Perhaps that is why I no longer fit in anywhere or why Aunt Jenna, my brother Jeremy or my best friend Bonnie—people I have known forever—don't feel as comforting to me as they used to.

In a few hours I have to meet the crowd outside school before we begin the new year. They haven't seen me since June, so I'm wondering what they will be expecting. I'm scared that if I show the slightest hint of a frown, they will all think 'it's just the same old Elena, miserable as always'. I'm tired of smiling at everyone and telling them that I'm okay, or to stop worrying about me because I'm fine. I cannot lie to them anymore. I have to learn how to get through each day without using this charade as a barrier to block them all out. I'm not convincing any of them. They can all see how much I have changed, and as much as I hate it, I can too.

Elena Gilbert clamped her pen inside her blue, silk covered diary before shoving it and her torch under her pillows. She leapt off her bed, landing clumsily in front of an oval mirror which stood beside her bedroom window on claw-like feet. She pulled open the drapes, expecting light to flood in and brighten her room, but the sun was only half visible from behind the opposite row of Victorian houses. There wasn't enough light coming through the window to allow a justifying reflection of her, so she hastened to flip the light switch beside her bedroom door and hurried back to her original position.

She was truly glorious. Her long, naturally straight, brunette hair always looked and felt as if she had just walked out of a salon. She inherited her father's facial features. Her eyes were large and brown, neatly bordered by thin brows and her full lips were in perfect proportion to her jaw line.

The more she stared at herself, the more her usual frown reappeared and ruined her beautiful face. There was something different, she finally decided, moving closer to the mirror. She ran slender fingers across her flawless skin, searching for any woe-induced lines. Once she was satisfied that she had avoided this potentially devastating bullet, she parted sections of her hair, carefully probing for grey hairs. She found nothing.

Elena drew back from the mirror, realizing the differentness. It was the way in which the new Elena held herself. She no longer stood tall, hand on hip, her chin slightly raised like the old Elena used to. Instead her shoulders were drooping and her arms dangled awkwardly by her sides as if she didn't quite know what to do with them.

Horrified by how much her slouching subtracted from her height, she straightened her back and experimentally rested her left hand on her hip. She smiled at the new reflection of herself standing in her old pose, but it didn't linger on her face for longer than a few seconds.

This just isn't me anymore, she thought sadly, allowing her arm to fall back into its original position. Her gaze wandered over to her bed where the corner of her diary protruded from underneath her pillows. I really don't belong here anymore . . .

"Couldn't sleep either?" The soft voice startled Elena. She whirled around and saw her brother Jeremy leaning against the door jam, holding the door open. He also took after their father. He had dark hair and eyes and was an average height. Jeremy was fifteen, two years younger than Elena. He drew his head back sheepishly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in . . . I heard you moving around in here and . . . I couldn't sleep either."

"It's okay," Elena told him immediately, sitting on her bed and indicating with a wave of her hand that he should sit, too. How long had it been since they last talked, she pondered, failing to recall a time they had last exchanged more than a passing pleasantry. She used to be closer to him before the car crash, but they had since grown apart. Their parents' death wasn't a topic they discussed without the company of Aunt Jenna, and any other topic always seemed to be overshadowed by their shared burden of mourning. These days it was almost impossible to comment on something as meaningless as the weather without both of their eyes meeting and silently confirming the continuance of their omnipresent pain.

Jeremy sat beside her on the bed and stared at her questioningly. "Elena," he said slowly, choosing his words tactfully. "You moved your bed."

His voice went higher at the end of his statement which made it sound more like a question. She looked to the spot where her double bed used to be; directly in front of the window where the light could shine through in the morning and brighten her face. She had recently grown sick of always being so visible and out in the open, so she pushed her bed away from the window and into a corner where it was darker and more enclosed. It didn't occur to her at the time that anyone would think anything of it, but the way in which Jeremy now sat there summing her up with calculating eyes made her understand that her actions had been extremely transparent. Why did that anger her so?

"Yeah . . ." she mumbled, continuing in a harder tone. "I guess I did."

"You can't deal with it like this forever, Elena," he said quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on his knees. "You can't just hide in here and pretend it didn't happen. You have to continue with your life—we both do."

"Is that what you're doing?" she questioned him, failing to maintain an even tone.

Jeremy sighed and drifted over to the window. He stared out of it with unseeing eyes, his back to her. Elena's eyes narrowed into a scowl as she watched her brother, waiting for a response. He answered her after a moment of silence, his voice barely audible. "I'm trying."

Elena instantly dug her nails into her palms and before she knew it, her thoughts were slipping between her teeth in enraged hisses. "I would hardly call getting high every night with your friends "trying". Perhaps you should assess your own life before you tell me how I should live mine."

Crack! Jeremy snarled demonically and slammed his fist into her bedroom window. Shards of glass were propelled in all directions, raining down onto the drive outside and inside onto her wooden floor boards. Elena gasped as he withdrew his fist and threw her an infuriated glare before marching out of her room without a second's regret.

She sat frozen in fear of her brother's display or rage, her mouth open in horror and her breath trapped in her chest. Once he had pulled the door shut behind him, she regained enough control of her body to spring off of her bed and stop in front of the mess Jeremy had made.

A few fragments of glass remained in the window frame, but most had fallen outside or onto her bedroom floor, where they now lay glimmering in the early sunlight. She didn't care that Jeremy had broken her window. She was angry with herself for upsetting him. She didn't want to be Jeremy's enemy yet she knew that they were no longer compatible as siblings. The proof of that was lying in front of her, waiting to be swept up. It was impossible to be in a room with Jeremy for more than two minutes without something bad happening, be it his fault or, as she thought in this case, hers.

He was only concerned about you, she realized, biting down on her lip. The impact of this thought instantly made her nauseous. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. The image of the broken window swam before her, but she was no longer seeing it. She was beginning to grasp what had just happened and the implications of it. She had not only upset her brother, it was much worse than that. She had ruined the moment she had been waiting to happen for months. Her brother had made an effort to reconnect with her, and she threw it in his face. She knew he would not bother her again, but that wasn't what she wanted at all.

Her eyes snapped over to the mirror, and this time she felt truly disgusted with the new Elena. She hated everything about her.

Suddenly her attention was stolen by something glinting in the corner of the mirror. She looked behind her and noticed that Jeremy had left behind a speckled trail of blood, but before she could feel another twinge of remorse, something large and black flashed by her window, rustling the curtains and causing her to jump in surprise. She wasn't quite sure, but she thought it looked like a bird.