STORY DETAILS: This story is mainly a Damon Salvatore & Elena Gilbert romantic horror short story. This short story was written for Halloween and is based on the fantastic novel "Let The Right One In" by John Ajvide Lindqvist (originally written in Swedish), the Swedish film of the same name Let The Right One In (2008) and the Americanized version Let Me In (2010).
SUMMARY: After a tragic accident, Damon Salvatore is left as an emotional wreck and is angry at the world and most of all himself. He wants to change. Elena Gilbert is new to Mystic Falls and isn't exactly human. But she wants to be. Can they help each other and find love on the way or will their secrets tear them apart? Short-Story! Darkfic! Based on the movie/book "Let The Right One In".
RATING: M+/NC-17 to include - profanity, violent fighting, violent fighting leading to secondary character death, alcohol consumption; mentions of rape, sadism, masochism and attempted suicide.
CHARACTERS: Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert, Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson, Tyler Lockwood, Matt Donovan, Alaric Saltzman, Katherine Pierce (mentioned/flashback only), Stefan Salvatore (mentioned/flashback only).
All around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
—"Mad World" (Verse 1) by Gary Jules—
Damon was on his way home from school. He hated the world and everyone in it. But most of all he hated himself. He had no pride. Absolutely none.
Robin Hood and Spider-Man had pride. If Sir John or Doctor Octopus cornered them they would simply spit danger in the face.
But what did Spider-Man know, anyway? He always managed to get away, even if it was impossible. He was a comic book action figure and had to survive for the next issue. He had his spider powers, Damon had his ability to take in all the pain a guy could withstand. Whatever it took to survive.
Damon needed to comfort himself. He had had a shitty day and now he needed some compensation. Despite the risk of running into Elijah and Tyler he walked up toward Mystic Falls' Plaza, to Diego's, the local grocery store. He shuffled up along the zigzagging ramp instead of taking the stairs, using the time to gather himself. He needed to be calm for this, not sweaty.
He had been caught shoplifting once at a Quinto's Goods, another grocery chain, when he was 14 years old. The guard had wanted to call his mother but she had been at work and Damon didn't know her number, no, really he didn't. For a week Damon had agonized every time the phone rang, but then a letter arrived, addressed to his mother.
How idiotic. It was even labeled "Police Department of Mystic Falls" and of course Damon had ripped it open, read about his crime, faked his mother's signature, and returned the letter in order to confirm that she had read it. He was a coward, maybe, but he wasn't stupid.
What was cowardly, anyway? Was this, what he was about to do, cowardly?
He stuffed his down coat full of cookies, candies and chocolate bars. Finally he slipped a bag of chewy Swedish Fish between his stomach and pants, went to the checkout, and paid for a lollipop.
On the way home he walked with his head high and a bounce to his step. He wasn't just the fool, whom everyone could kick around; he was the Master Thief who took on dangers and survived. He could outwit them all… Right?
After having dinner, completing chores, finishing his homework and watching some TV, Damon had become restless. He felt bored. The fridge was all out of his favorite cherry pie, he washed the dishes until they were spotless and his favorite TV show wasn't going to be on for the next two hours. With a sigh he got up from the living room couch and yelled for his mother.
"Mom! I'm going out for a while!"
"No." She yelled back at him, it was obvious that she wanted him to stay because she had seen the newspaper and the news on television being filled mostly about the murderer in Fairfax County who was called the Bunnyman. Like a child who reached the age of supposedly knowing everything about the world, Damon didn't think much of it.
"Mom! I'm 17, for God's sake — I'm just going out into the courtyard." He said, pleading with her to let him go.
Knowing that her son was stubborn and was going to do what he wanted anyways, she gave in. "And nowhere else, do you hear?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Do you want me to call for you when…?"
"No, I'll be back in time. I have a watch. Don't call for me."
Damon put on his jacket, his hat. He paused as he was putting his boot on. Went quietly back to his room and took out the knife, tucked it inside his jacket. Laced up his boots. He heard his mom's voice again from the kitchen.
"It's cold out there."
"I've got my hat."
"On your head?"
"No, on my feet."
"This is no joking matter, Damon; you know how it is…"
"See you in a while."
"Come home soon."
He walked out, looked down at his watch. A quarter past seven. Forty-five minutes until the show started. Alaric and the others were probably down in their basement hangout but he didn't dare go down there. Alaric was alright, but the others...were a bit weird.
So he went down to the playground in the middle of the yard. Two big trees, sometimes used as a soccer goal, a play structure with a slide, a sandbox, and a swing set consisting of three tire-swings suspended from chains. He sat down in one of the tire-swings and rocked gently to and fro.
He liked this place at night. Hundreds of lighted windows all around him on four sides, himself sitting in the dark. Safe and alone at the same time. He pulled the knife out of the holster. The blade was so shiny he could see the windows reflected in it. And even the moon.
A bloody moon...
Damon got up, snuck over to one of the trees, and talked to it. "What are you looking at, you fucking idiot? Do you want to die?"
I want him back...
The tree didn't answer and Damon carefully drove the knife into it. Didn't want to damage the fine smooth edge.
"That's what happens if you so much as look at me."
I want my brother back.
He turned the knife so a small wedge of wood popped out of the trunk.
A piece of flesh. He whispered, "Go on, fight back."
I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!
He stopped, thought he heard a sound. He looked around, holding the knife by his hip. Lifted the blade to his eyes, checked it. The point was as smooth as before. He used the blade as a mirror, and turned it so it reflected the jungle gym. Someone was standing there, someone who had not been there a moment before. A blurry contour against the clean steel.
He lowered the knife and looked directly at the jungle gym. Yes. But it wasn't the Bunnyman. It was a child.
There was enough light for him to determine that it was a girl he had never seen before. Damon took a step toward the jungle gym. The girl didn't move, just stood there looking at him.
He took another step and suddenly he grew scared. Of what? Of her?
He was on his way toward the girl with his hand tightly closed around the knife, on his way to stab her with it. No, that wasn't true. But that was how he had felt, for a moment. Wasn't she scared of him holding a knife?
He stopped, pushed the knife back in its holder, and put it back inside his jacket.
"Hi."
The girl didn't answer. Damon was so close now that he could see she had dark brown hair, a heart shaped face, dark colored eyes. Eyes wide open, calmly looking at him.
Her white hands were resting on the railing.
"I said hi."
"I heard you."
"Why didn't you answer?"
The girl shrugged. Her voice was not as high as he would have expected.
Sounded like someone his own age.
There was something strange about her. Long brown hair, heart shaped face, small nose—like one of those American Girl dolls. Very...pretty. But there was something else. She had no hat,and no jacket. Only a thin pink sweater even though it was cold.
The girl nodded her head in the direction of the tree that Damon had cut.
"What are you doing?"
Damon blushed, but she probably couldn't tell in the dark.
"Practicing."
"For what?"
"For if the murderer comes along."
"What murderer?"
"The Bunnyman, ya know the one in Fairfax County. The one who killed that guy."
The girl sighed, looked up at the moon. Then she leaned forward again.
"Are you scared?"
"No, but a murderer, that's like ... it's good if you can—defend yourself.
Do you live here?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Over there," the girl gestured to the front door next to Damon's. "Next door to you."
"How do you know where I live?"
"I've seen you in the window before."
Damon's cheeks grew hot. While he was trying to think of something to say the girl jumped down from the top of the jungle gym and landed in front of him. A drop of over two meters.
She must do gymnastics or something like that.
She was almost as tall as he was, but much thinner. The pink sweater fit tight across her chest, which barely covered her breasts. Her eyes were dark brown, like chocolate, they were enormous on her pale little face. She held one hand up in the air in front of him as if she were warding something off that was coming toward her. Her fingers were long and slender as twigs.
"I can't be friends with you. Just so you know."
Damon folded his hands over his chest. He could feel the contours of the knife through his jacket.
"What?"
One corner of the girl's mouth pulled up in a half-smile.
"Do you need a reason? I'm just telling you how it is. So you know."
"Yeah, yeah."
The girl turned and walked away from Damon, toward her front door. After a couple of steps Damon said, "What makes you think I'd want to be friends with you? You must be pretty stupid."
The girl stopped. Stood still for a moment. Then she turned and walked back to Damon, stopped in front of him. Interlaced her fingers and let her arms drop.
"What did you say?"
Damon wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, pressed one hand against his knife, and stared down into the ground.
"You must be stupid…to say something like that."
"Oh, I am, am I?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. But that's just how it is."
They stood still, about half a meter between them. Damon continued staring into the ground. A strange smell was emanating from the girl.
About one year ago his dog Bobby had gotten an infection in one paw and in the end they had been forced to have him put down. The last day Damon had stayed home from school, lain next to the sick dog for several hours, and said good-bye. Bobby had smelled like the girl did. Damon screwed up his nose.
"Is that strange smell coming from you?" I guess so.
Damon looked up at her. He regretted having said that. She looked so...fragile in her pink top. He unfolded his arms and made a gesture in her direction.
"Aren't you cold?"
"No."
"Why not?"
The girl frowned, wrinkling up her face, and for a moment she looked much, much older than she was. Like an old woman about to cry.
"I don't get cold as easily as you do."
The girl quickly turned around and walked back to her door. Damon remained where he was, looking at her. When she reached the heavy front door he fully expected that she would need to use both hands to pull it open. But instead she grasped the door handle with one hand and pulled it open so hard it banged into the wall stop, bounced, and then closed behind her.
He pushed his hands into his pockets and felt sad. Thought about his dog Bobby and how he had looked in the makeshift coffin Dad had made for him.
Thought about Stefan and how he loved the snow...
Footnotes
The Bunnyman: The Bunnyman is an urban legend that probably originated from two incidents in Fairfax County, Virginia, in 1970, but has been spread throughout the Washington D.C. area. There are many variations to the legend, but most involve a man wearing a rabbit costume ("bunny suit") who attacks people with an axe. The Bunnyman was also used in the film "Donnie Darko".
How did you guys like Part 1? I know it's short but things will pick up in the next chapter. Also, if anyone is confused, Stefan's already dead in this story but his death will be explained later on.