DISCLAIMER: If I owned Vampire Diaries it would be 42 minutes of delicious Damon.
and it never stops spinning
"She's dead, Damon." He wants to say the world stops. It doesn't. He's not one of those people that can get stuck in a moment and have everything just crash down on him. Call it a curse but he's fatally realistic and to be honest he sort of expects it.
At some point their luck had to run out. The endless string of second chances had to reach its limit. The levee had to break but this; he hadn't expected such a…mundane end. Drowning. She had drowned. Elena-frickin-Gilbert had drowned. Through desiccated vampires, dopplebitches, traitorous witches, werewolves, angry Originals, mere water had killed her.
He chuckles, a dark, cold sound. Even after all this, he thinks letting his head fall back none too gently into the harsh metal of the wall, it still wasn't enough. He had taken bullets, killed for her, nearly died for her and she dies from water. It's practically poetic. He doesn't realize he's spoken aloud until his brother's broken sob answers him.
Rough I know but I have to get back into the writing groove. Comments, please. It's been a while.