I answer the ringing phone in my kitchen.
"He's back. He's alive. Mystic General." It was Mary, I could tell by her scratchy voice. I knew exactly who she was talking about, and as soon as I heard the words the phone fell out of my hand. Not bothering to hang up the phone, I grabbed my coat and run out of my apartment building. I ran to the car garage, get in my car and turned the key. 'Crap', I think. The dumb car won't start. Not wanting to waste any more time, I ran over to the sidewalk and waved my hands in the air like a complete fool. I've never tried to call a taxi before, and had no idea how to do it. Thankfully a taxi pulled up, the tires screeching on the paved road. I stumbled to get in, hitting my head on the roof of the car.
"Where to?", the driver asked me. He looked about 50 and smelled of rotting food and something foul I couldn't place.
"34 Revnon Avenue", I say. It took about 10 minutes to get there, the entire ride I was scratching my arms, something I always do when I'm nervous. I payed the driver $3 and clumsily got out of the car. Walking over to the building, I read the sign above it: "Mystic General Hospital". I walk in and go the front desk. Caroline, the receptionist I've know for 4 years, gives me a smile, but something was off.
"Elena," she says, "He's, he's not-"
"Caroline, I need to see him." My anticipation was killing me and if I didn't see him soon I'd explode.
"Here," Caroline said sighing. she handed me a visitor's pass. "But Elena, I'm warning you. he's not himself." I didn't even get to hear that last statement before I grabbed the visitor's pass and ran to the location that was on it- Room 273. I run up two flights of stairs and see Dr. Saltzman walking towards me.
"Elena, now's not a good time." he says.
"Alaric, I need to see him, now. No matter what kind of condition he's in."
"Alright," he says, "but you're not gonna like what you see." I unintentionally gulp and he walks me over to his room. My hands were shaking furiously, andi I shakily open the door. The sight is horrid. He's covered in bruises from head to toe, a cast on his right arm and left leg. There's a huge gash above his eyebrow, and he looks miserable.
"Is...can I talk to him?" I ask.
"You can try." Alaric says. I walk over to the side of his hospital bed.
"Damon? Damon it's me. Please, please talk to me darling." I plead. He looks at me, but a look of confusion masks his face.
"I'm sorry, you're real pretty and all, but just who the hell are you?"
This is my first fanfiction, so go easy on me please. There will be cursing and smut in this story, so be prepared. -Rachel
