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MySecretHeartbreak
I can see her. She is too far for me to reach yet I stretch my hand out into the cool night air.
The moonlight gives her features a positively luminous glow; I shall never, for as long as I live, forget that face.
Tatia.
"Please," I breathe, trying to bite back the desperate edge in my voice "won't you stay a little longer?"
She smiles. A gentle breeze lifts her curls away from her cheeks. Her dress dances lightly.
"You know I can't, Niklaus," she murmurs, her voice carrying as though she were next to me "look how the sun is rising. I must go. But I'll return for you, Niklaus. Always."
"Tatia!" I call, but my voice is feeble. It doesn't reach her; she turns to go, still smiling.
"Tatia!"
The same dream. For one thousand years, the same bloody dream.
I'm awake, but don't open my eyes. I try and cling to the memory of her face, her smile. It fades, as always.
I sigh, and roll my legs over the edge of the bed, waiting a moment before actually getting up and moving. I grab a shirt and trousers, and head downstairs.
On entering the living area, I find Rebekah lounging on one of the sofas, a magazine in her hands, and evidently one of her last night's conquests beheaded on the floor.
"Clean that mess up," I order her, gesturing to the body, and heading to the fridge.
"All in good time, brother," she replies, not looking up, and turning the page "Good morning to you too."
I don't respond. Instead I take a couple of the many blood bags in the fridge and drain them, before grimacing.
"It tastes so much worse cold," I mutter.
"Then get some fresh produce, take a leaf out of my book," comments Bekah nonchalantly, still reading her magazine.
"I think I might, sister. And where is Elijah?"
"How should I know? Though I suppose that is one of the benefits of having your entire family staked; it must be so much easier to keep tabs on their whereabouts." She snaps, dropping her magazine and throwing me a dirty look. I smirk.
"Still stung about that? Oh dear Bekah. I'd have thought you would have found a more worthwhile past time. I'm off to find a better snack. Clean this up, before I return." I shoot her an equally evil glare.
Sitting at the bar of The Grill, I down a glass of whiskey and scan around for a potential drink. There is no particular scent that catches me, no laugh to draw my attention. Hunting nowadays lacks the excitement of before.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a mass of mahogany curls. Could it be-?
No. It's just another brunette, as always.
I sense a presence by my right side. Sure enough, Damon Salvatore.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I ask, downing the remainder of my drink and slamming the glass onto the table. I smile, threateningly.
"The pleasure is all mine," he replies with his signature lopsided smirk." I was hoping you could enlighten me." He orders a drink, and winks at the waitress, who giggles like a schoolgirl.
"About what?"
"This." He flings a newspaper at me, and takes a drink.
The paper is dated two days prior, the headline screaming something about several murders close to the vicinity, but evidently that main attraction was one right here in mystic falls. A picture of a mutilated body is in the centre of the page, with the description around it.
"Well that's some jolly good ripper work," I comment, returning the paper "but I don't see what this has to do with me." Again I smile, sardonically.
"Well it's not me or Stefan. It can't be your hybrids, since you kept them out of town. It's nowhere near a full moon, so that rules out any of our wolfy friends, and all your precious family that you fought to get back have run off with mommy somewhere. If it's you or Rebekah, or Elijah, you need to cover your tracks a bit better. People are suspicious." Damon explains, his lip curling in a grimace.
"Myself and my siblings have been vampires for centuries, long before you or your baby brother, long before the Lockwoods. We've had enough practice covering our tracks, and if we wanted you to know we meant business we'd do a lot more than kill a few stray humans. It wasn't us. And you need to remember who you're speaking to, Salvatore." I pick up my empty glass, hold it between my forefinger and thumb, and shatter it. I pick up a handful of shards, and rub my palms together, crushing the glass back to sand. "Have I made my point?"