My name is Elena Gilbert. I live in Mystic Falls.

I lay in my bedroom, the lights off, the windows covered.

I sit in the middle of the bed, knees drawn up to my chest.

My door is locked;

Someone tries to turn the knob every once in a while.

The bathroom door is open. The faucet is dripping.

My jaw is throbbing- My head is pounding.

I hear their movement below me,

Their murmuring concern for me.

I list facts in my head,

Things that I can feel or see or hear or do

These things I know are true.

When I do not know what to do.

Someone runs the tap. Another opens the cabinet.

A door opens, then slams shut.

There is yelling, there is pleading.

I can't bring myself feel concern.

Pounding steps move up the stairs.

Pounding steps come towards my door.

Pounding steps stop.

There is a moment of silence. I know someone is just outside the door.

"Elena."

That voice. So quiet, so still.

"Elena, say something." He sighs quietly behind the door.

That voice, so full of sorrow.

"Please." The voice breaks, and so do I.

I feel the tears falling. I begin to sob.

What am I doing?

The door is open; I know I did not open it.

He comes to my bedside and watches me.

I can't do this! I can't I can't I can't!

I can't be a vampire! I can't!

I will not be a monster.

I watched Stefan and Damon and Caroline in their darkest times. I watched them fall.

I am not strong enough to get back up.

I'll fall and I'll be down and I'll stay down.

I am going to die.

"So that's it then?" I don't look at him. I continue to cry.

The bed shifts. He has sat down on the bed. He shifts toward me.

"You're going to let yourself die?" The voice shakes with anger.

So different from that still sorrow in that still voice.

I look at him then. The deep shadows of the room seemed to merge with him. He was layered in black—black leather jacket, black pants, black shirt. I could make out the hair, the deepest, truest black. I could see his face, bathed in shadow. I could find his eyes, but I chose not to. I knew they would be bright with compassion.

Compassion for me.

Compassion for you.

Compassion, compassion, compassion.

"Elena, look at me."

I did. My sobs had quieted, my tears had stopped.

I looked at him and I saw.

I looked at him and I heard.

I looked at him and I felt.

I looked at him, and I knew that I couldn't let myself die.

I looked into his eyes and I saw the weight of the world. I saw the guilt of taking a life. I saw the burdens of living, watching loved ones die. I saw the sorrow of watching the girl he loved leave him for another. Twice.

I saw.

I saw his pain of watching me die. I saw Stefan's pain. I saw Matt's pain, Bonnie's pain, Caroline's pain.

Jeremy's pain.

Oh.

I looked into his eyes. I know he knew. I couldn't let myself die. Dying would be terribly selfish of me. To leave my problems behind for others to solve. To leave the three most important people in my life behind to pick up the pieces.

Jeremy. Stefan. Damon.

"Don't do this to yourself, Elena. Don't." Damon took my hands in his. He held them firmly, in a warm cocoon of compassion.

Compassion.

Love.

It's all the same.

I watched him for many moments.

I smiled, a small wobbly smile.

"I won't."

I finally spoke.

FIN

Sorry that took forever to update. Between school work, tennis, violin, etc, I just haven't had the time.

I rewrote this chapter a couple of times. I didn't know what to write.

I am glad I waited though. This came out better than my other trials.

I don't know why this came out looking like a poem. I just began typing, and went with the flow.

This story was a bit of an experiment, though. Its my first time writing something that isn't for school.

Tell me what you think! And remember:

Reviews make happy authors ;)