Hey guys! I know I should update Stripped. Truth is I have no idea for the next chapter what so ever and I don't know when I'll be able to update it. However, I had another idea. This is going to be a little different, much darker, more angst, more death.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the character Katherine Pierce, I just love to use her for my own pleasure ( no that didn't sound perverted at all).

ALSO: not in this chapter but it will happen sooner or later so I'll give you the warning now: triggers ahead. This will be dealing with death, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, depression and suicide. And it will have some pretty graphic violence and strong language. So if you have a problem with any of that please stop reading now (:

However if you do not, then please, take a seat and enjoy the show!

(also if you don't know me note that English is not my native tongue so I'm super sorry if there are any mistakes)

prologue

I will never forget the night my mum passed away.

November the 23rd, 2012.

It had been one of those nights were the wind was howling through every corner of the streets, sneaking past the barrier of your clothes until the cold was practically crawling up your spine. I remember running like a mad person and how I nearly got hit by a car when I ignored the third red light.

How I arrived at the hospital gasping for air but nevertheless storming through the silent hallways until I had reached the right floor. Finally I was standing in front of her door, reaching for the door knob, when it swung open and a doctor with a face as pale as the wall behind him appeared in front of me. And the look he gave me told me everything I didn't want to know.

I caught a glance of the room behind him, of the view he tried to shield from my eyes.

And when I saw the white sheet that covered her body, I started to scream.

The following days were kind of a blur. Dozens of people came by to tell me how sorry they were and that they would always be there for me, that if I needed any help I shouldn't hesitate to call. I never did. Until the day of the funeral I did nothing but sit in mum's favorite chair, staring at the door for hours, waiting for her to come home and tell me how awesome her day at work had been. The door opened a few times, but it was never her who entered. My mum's best friend came by every few hours to check if I was still breathing and occasionally to force feed me. But that was it.

The day of the funeral I got up at six and started doing my nails, my hair and makeup. I grabbed the black dress I had already worn to three other burials, got into my heels and waited for someone to pick me up.

I have literally no memory of the actual funeral. Afterwards people told me that I didn't need to be this strong and that it was okay for me to let go and cry. I didn't. I kept it together until the first night alone at home after her grave had been sealed.

The feeling of crying so hysterically that your sobbing makes you throw up on the floor of the kitchen is not a very pleasant one.

After ten days I decided that everything was better than staying in that horribly empty and lifeless apartment for another night.

When I arrived at the bar it was so loud that I couldn't even seem to hear my own thoughts anymore which was just what I needed. Drowning out the noise of my own thinking was pleasant.

The look on my face must have reflected my emotional status way too well, since the barkeeper didn't even bother to ask for my ID.

Unfortunately, someone else had the guts to do that.

"Little dove, you look well too young for that tequilla."

My eyes instantly began to search for the source of sound.

I found her standing right next to me, wearing the most cocky look I had ever seen on the face of an actual human being. I have to admit that I forgot to breath for a slight moment as my brain realized what incredible beauty the woman in front of me wore as casually as it was a fucking jumpsuit.

Luckily I may have lost my mother but not my attitude.

"And you look like you're going to get on my nerves in about five seconds, so why don't you take your ass somewhere your opinion is asked for?"

Giving her the sweetest fake smile I could manage I reached for my shotglass and drowned the liquid in one swift move.

"Wooo, the little one's got temper. Who would have thought?"

"Oh fuck off."

I swear to god, I didn't even have time to regret what I just said.

That annoying little bitch may have looked like she was a lost Victoria's Secret Angel, but the grip she had around my throat gave more the impression of a very upset Hulk.

Basic human instincts kicked in and I felt adrenalin rushing through my veins, blood pumping faster.

Still, I didn't even blink. I just held her gaze and forced myself to a self reluctant smile. She had the most intense eyes I had ever seen. Dark brown that nearly seemed to blend in with her dilated pupils, shaped like those of a doe. The color went perfectly with the shades of chestnut her curls reflected.

"Go ahead. Push a little harder and you'll break my voice box. The shards will probably pierce through my windpipe and you can watch me choke on my own blood. Sounds like fun doesn't it?"

Even I noticed how the tone of my voice changed slightly. It was shaky and some of my previous confidence seemed to fade parallel to the amount of oxygen in my brain.

"Come on. Do it. I don't care."

Something in her eyes changed so fast that I nearly didn't see her expression shift. They weren't dark anymore. They were a soft brown with a hint of caramel. And they reflected... Understanding?

She let go of me so abruptly as if my skin had suddenly turned into acid. Shifting her head to the side, she mustered me like a piece of art she couldn't quite get a hold of. But as soon as that expression appeared, it faded and nothing but darkness was left in the depths of her eyes.

"I have to leave."

Her voice was more of a murmur than anything else and her body tensed as she turned around and started to leave. She probably would have. If something in my mind didn't tell me to grab her wrist.

The expression her face mirrored was priceless. A mixture of pure shock and astonishment about the fact that someone who she nearly just killed had the bowels to touch her like this.

"Tell me your name."

For a brief second she hesitated, before her gaze met mine once more.

"Katherine."

And with that, she turned on her heels and was out of the door.