It's sort of strange how these type of things can happen. The power that one person can hold over another.
"I bet you twenty bucks that I could get 'Cindy' over there behind The Grill in five minutes flat."
Damon Salvatore. Wispy dark hair, piercing blue eyes, perfect smile. Every girls' fantasy.
"Nah, man. You don't want her. She's way too needy, trust me."
Matt Donovan. All American boy. Blonde hair, light eyes, quarterback on the football team. Admired by the female race constantly.
This was Mystic Falls, Virginia, circa 2012. These were high school boys, and they were best friends. And this was The Grill, a regular hang out spot for the popular and promising.
Damon Salvatore had parents that owned two thirds of the oil rigs off the Gulf. He was used to getting what he wanted. His folks traveled a lot and because of family money, he had near complete reign over his school. His uncle was the principal, imagine that. If he wanted to ditch, he never got marked absent. If he wanted an A, he got one. Those are the perks of having a wing at the Mystic Falls Hospital named after you, and having relatives that basically funded the town itself.
Matt Donovan had a similar atmosphere. He controlled the half of the school that Damon didn't. Sports and clubs were his forte. He liked girls. A lot. Sometimes more than he should, if you know what I mean. It didn't matter. Anything that didn't reflect well on him was always covered up. His parents owned a branch of one of the most successful pharmaceutical companies in the south. They were gone just as often as Damon's if not more, and never stuck around more than four months out of the year.
Right now, they were doing what they did a lot. Drinking beer that they totally weren't old enough to have, chillin' in the back of the restaurant. It was dark there, quiet and a totally great space for checking out babes. They could scope out the whole place from where they were sitting. And from here, Damon had a great view of the door where a crowd of kids from school were coming in. He scanned the group, trying to pick out a face that he actually wanted to talk to tonight. Forgetting Cindy the waitress from before, he held his breath as a super hot girl stepped in behind Caroline Forbes, the school cheerleader and Matt's wannabe girlfriend.
The girl had wavy dark hair and brown eyes. She was tall and slender but not too tall. She shyly grabbed Caroline's hand as they walked over to a table. He put it together that the two were friends, but he had never seen this chick before. It was possible that she lived out of town, but he doubted it. He had "been" with Caroline a couple times before, and she was pretty chatty. He had never heard a peep about a friend out of state.
"Hey, Caroline just walked in! I'm gunna go talk to her. Catch you later?" Matt threw a couple twenties down to cover their alcohol and food and began to walk away. Damon watched as he approached the girls' table and not so subtly hit on "don't know her name." Probably to stick it to Caroline.
Matt had his car, so Damon downed the last of his drink and grabbed his jacket before strolling out the door. As he fumbled drunkly with the keys to his Audi, he wished he hadn't had that last shot of vodka. He put the keys in the ignition and turned on the radio, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to go to school the next day. Pulling out of the parking lot of The Grill, he ultimately decided on "yes." He knew that he had to show some major face time this month because it was the very first week of school. It was the start of a brand new year. And he had a lot to change. Obviously he couldn't do it all himself. He needed a wingman. And since Matt was too busy drooling over Caroline to plan new strategies lately, it looked like he was in the market for a new friend.
Would he be able to find one as loyal and alike him as Matt? Probably not. But a temporary fix couldn't hurt. After all, he had one that might be perfect in mind already. His name was Jeremy. Jeremy Gilbert. He was suave, smart and new this year. He was the same year as Damon, and thankfully, completely uncharted territory. Damon could mold the dude into the perfect accomplice come September.
He was about three blocks from his house now. He lived in one of the biggest ones in town. It was ancient, passed down throughout the years to the generations of his family. He loved the stupid place, as old as it was, and was entirely ready to sleep the second he got there.
As Damon drove along, he couldn't help but think about how his parents were doing. Where were they again? Finalizing a deal in Bermuda or inspecting a gasoline factory in Australia? He was losing track of all of the things that those two did without him.
Just as Damon was getting ready to turn onto his road, he saw a figure in the street that made him slam on his brakes. Damon fought to keep his eyes open as he tried to focus on his blurring surroundings. A steady beat pulsed from his radio as his car skidded out of control. His insides were scrambled as the tires jolted and spun him all around endlessly. Finally, after his head was thoroughly pounding the car hit something that anchored it. Damon coughed and pushed open the door with a shaky hand. Had he slammed into a tree? What would the damage look like? He thought he was dreaming, though, as he took in the site before him. This was no tree he had hit. There was blood, so much blood everywhere. Red was splattered against his car like paint, illuminated by the single streetlamp ahead. Chunks of what looked like flesh were strewn about at his feet, and he felt like vomiting as he realized for the first time what he had hit.
