The laughter and voices filled my ears like the wind as I glanced around at my friends. We had always loved coming to the Mystic Grill to catch up or go there after a big football game at school. Matt Donovan was the quarterback on the team, he often joined us for these little outings. If he wasn't working as a busboy here.
My sharp eyes noticed, much to my disappointment, that he and Caroline Forbes were keeping their distance from each other that night. Nothing much from them except a muted 'hello' and 'how are you?' It was a damn depressing sight because of how physically compatible they were and how much they were attracted to one another.
"Are you two on the outs again?" I asked, putting a cucumber into my mouth and chewing very slowly. I smirked and shook my head when Caroline and Matt both looked uncomfortable, shifting around in their seats, their eyes darting anywhere but at each other. It was too hilarious to even believe.
"We're taking a break," Matt emphasized. His fingers dug into his fork as he ate his side salad. His school t-shirt was enhanced by the thick muscles that practically dug out from his shoulders. His messy dark blond hair was messy from football practice.
"You two take a "break" every five minutes," Bonnie Bennett said, scrutinizing them. "How long is that going to last?"
Caroline shrugged. The subject was clearly bothering her. Usually Caroline Forbes was the life and soul of any party but this one she was more subdued than I had ever seen her. She was seated between Bonnie and I. Matt had the booth across all to himself.
"Let's drop it before world war three, please?" I asked. I didn't trust Matt and Caroline to keep their fighting to themselves. Even though Matt worked at the Grill on a two day shift, that probably wouldn't stop him from engaging in a war of words with his on the rocks girlfriend in front of his bosses.
"I'm not starting anything," Matt said, shrugging. He finished his salad and ordered a refill for his diet coke.
I was dateless like Bonnie was. She didn't have anyone steady except for this guy, Luke and he had apparently died in some strange fire accident. She had been vague on the details but something about how he had accidently been set on fire by someone.
His father, Jonas had been beside himself with grief. The whole town had buzzed about how the death had happened so suddenly and how there was no way he could have killed himself while the father was sitting right next to him. That was another of the creepy details that had leaked to the press: Jonas had been sitting right next to Luke when his death had occurred.
Now the police were investigating the death further. Interviewing friends and family about the father/son relationship they had.
"What time is it?" I asked suddenly, reaching to find my phone in my pocket. The black Iphone in my hand told me I had twenty minutes to get home before I broke curfew. I shifted uneasily in my seat. I was having too much fun to leave but knew my Mom would have a heart attack if I showed up even five minutes late.
"I have to go." Bonnie moved so I could get out of the booth and she handed me my purse. They looked disappointed that their little party was breaking up but they knew I couldn't do anything else about it.
"See you tomorrow for the parade?" Caroline asked, her face lighting up with excitement at the annual Founder's day parade. I wasn't one of the founding families but still got to ride in the float along with Elena Gilbert and Caroline.
"Would I really miss that?" I asked, my tone of voice implying that Caroline was stupid to ever assume I would miss it. Even ask me that question.
"No," Bonnie chimed in.
"Thank you," I replied simply. I walked out the door of the Grill then and into the cool night air. I had parked the car about a mile down the road due to lack of parking space. It wasn't ideal especially in the chilly air.
I drew my AeroPostal sweat shirt closer around my body as I walked. The night had more than a chilly feeling, it had an eerie feeling. It felt like someone was watching me. That feeling you get when you think someone is watching you? I felt that.
At times it felt like that presence was only inches behind me. I spun around, looking into the dark night. Nothing. There was nothing except the sound of a lone car driving down the street. Nothing scary or spooky about that.
I tried to calm myself. To tell myself that I was fine. That I was perfectly safe here in this small town in this small outdoor space near the Grill. I shook my head and myself out of this stupid fear, thinking I was stupid to be so afraid of the dark.
It was when I turned around to go back to my car that I came face to face with the person that had followed me. He was dressed in a black leather jacket with a black shirt underneath. Dark blue jeans and his hair was slicked back with gel.
I would have thought he was incredibly handsome if not for the situation I found myself in. He stood there, staring at me with the most unfathomable expression on his face. It was something similar to worry. But worry for what? His features had softened when they looked down at my face. He seemed to be restraining himself from reaching out and stroking my face.
"What do you want?" I asked, finding my voice. My voice was slightly above a normal pitch partly because I felt stupid about letting a guy scare me and because of the way he was looking at me. The question came out ruder than I had wanted it to.
…"So beautiful," he muttered to himself, looking me up and down like I was an animal on display at the zoo. This time he didn't restrain himself and he let his hand explore my face, running down it and cupping my cheek.
I jerked back, surprising myself at how I knew that I had to get out of this situation. It was like I had a sense called "This is wrong" hammering into my brain telling me that this man, as gorgeous as he was, was still extremely dangerous.
"I have to go," I said, attempting to walk past him. He easily sidestepped into my way. His face still had that expression of love for me, of defense even. He looked like he wanted to guard me from ever coming into harm.
"You're going to die," he said to me. He looked like he was mentally slapping himself for saying that in such a bold and foreword manner.
"Excuse me?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief. What was this guy on? He was talking like a lunatic on crack-not a good combination.
"You are going to die," he said again, this time he enunciated each word like I was stupid.
"No need to talk like I'm freakin' stupid," I spat.
"Then don't act like it. I know what I'm talking about. You are sick with cancer. Very sick, actually."
I almost laughed in his face. Cancer, huh? Well, he succeeded in getting my attention. I looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted two heads and was talking in Bulgarian.
"Cancer? Really? I'm seventeen-years-old."
"So? You still have it and…I won't let you suffer through the treatments and all the other bull you'd have to go through."
I scoffed. "What do you mean "you won't let me"'? I asked, eyeing the purse I carried and wondering if I could use it against him. I waited for a chance. My grandmother had taught me how to effectively hit a would be kidnapper with a purse.
Those lessons had actually been effective for a ten-year-olds mind. I had gone around whacking anyone I could find with my little plastic purse in school. The teachers' hadn't been too happy with my grandmother.
I could smell the cologne coming from this man and thought it smelled like something David Beckham would wear. He was still staring. It looked like he was drinking in every inch of my body, soaking it in.
Now. Now was my chance. I whacked him across the middle of his chest with the purse and was able to sidestep around him and run. I couldn't hear any pursuit from him. I thought I had lost him. I felt a brief moment of satisfaction that I had managed to take care of myself against a creep.
My Mom would be upset, of course but she would be grateful that I had managed to defend myself. Maybe she would even extend my curfew an hour or so. I had barely gotten this thought out when my scream caught in my throat. He was standing in front of me!
That was impossible. How could he be standing in front of me like that? When I hadn't even heard him approach? He was looking slightly angry at me for defying him and probably for the bruise I had left on his chest.
"You're awfully stubborn, you know?" He said, before grabbing me and shoving me into an alley. He slammed me against a flat brick wall. I was trapped. I knew it, then too. His body was the thing that separated me from the exit.
"Okay, okay, I'll go to the damn doctor," I shouted in his face. I hoped that someone would hear my scream and call the police or come running. But I didn't want anyone else coming into contact with this man whoever he was.
He shook his head. "No. I won't let you suffer through months of chemo treatments before finally dying."
He was crazy, I decided. He needed mental help. I was about to tell him as much when I gave out a terrified whimper when his face suddenly contorted into a face I could only describe as a demon's face.
I knew then that any chance I had at escape was done. It was over for me. He would kill me or do something worse than that and then kill me. But either way I knew that he had won over me. He was in control of me now.
I tried to keep calm, but I soon abandoned that idea. It would do no good to remain calm so why should I? He was going to kill me. Plain and simple. He had faked concern over me to get me into this place right now.
I stared at him horrified as he brought his wrist up close to his mouth and bit down on it, drawing blood. I knew that my mind must have been making me go crazy because when he bit down on that wrist, I swore I saw actual fangs pierce the skin.
I didn't have long to ponder this thought before he was bringing his wrist up to my mouth! I felt my heart climb up into my throat as it came closer and closer. What was he going to make me do? The possibilities were too terrifying to imagine.
I whimpered and tried to turn my head away but his steel iron grip turned my head back so I was facing him. He brought his wrist up to my mouth then and pressed his wrist down, making sure that it was tightly pressed.
His blood oozed into my mouth. It ran over my tongue and tried to slide down into my throat. I refused them that right. No, this man would not control me and would not force me to take part in his sickening game.
The blood built up in my throat. It tasted like metal and had a sickening sweet taste to it. It made me want to throw up. My mind swam as I tried to fight his strength. The blood built up and I started choking on it.
He abruptly removed his wrist from my mouth and let me choke out the blood. Almost half of it spilled out. It colored the grey pavement with a sickening sight like a murder scene. Some of the blood ran down my chin and spilled on my light colored shirt.
"Listen to me," he ordered. "You drink the blood. Do not fight me off."
I stared him straight in the eye, mustering all my strength to put into these two words: "Screw you."
"Do not resist again," he warned me. He brought his wrist back up to my mouth and the game began all over again. Only this time he jerked my head back so that it cracked sickeningly against the wall. He let the blood flow into my mouth once again and I realized that he was jerking my head back so that the blood could flow freely without much resistance from me.
He then put his other free hand on my throat and massaged my throat so that the blood would flow down. Almost like when a dog owner massages their dog's throat to get all their medication down. The blood flowed down my throat uninterrupted.
"You wanted to do this the hard way, that's what we're doing," he whispered roughly in my ear. He kept his wrist up to my mouth for several more seconds before removing it finally.
I looked into his eyes, begging him for mercy. I prayed that he would have mercy on me and kill me quickly or just let me go. Somehow I knew that latter option wasn't an option. I resigned myself to my fate but not without sadness for the family I would leave behind and the wonderful friends.
"And the last part," he whispered. "Is just like flipping a switch. You go 1. 2.3. And then snap-" he had his hands around my neck and when he snapped my neck, I lost all feeling in my body as it fell down to the ground.
The last feeling I had before everything faded to black was the sensation of my body falling to the ground. It was almost like a feeling of being in a dream where you're falling and falling and then you wake up.
I knew though that I would most certainly not be waking up anytime soon. I was dead and leaving this world. How many people survived having their necks snapped? Not many.
(Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!)
