Ms. Brenda Marina and Mr. Ronald Pierce launched the Pierce Cruise Line together.
There was a lot of controversy on who the line should be named after.
In the end, it was named after Ronald.

Elena's tanned body absorbed the sun greatly. Her long legs stretched out along the white chair, arms turned up by her sides. She turned her cheek to open her eyes and peer at Rebekah who was laying next to her and drowning her skin in some type of tanning lotion. She felt eternally grateful for her mother's dark skin for that she inherited and gave her the tanning advantage over her pale, British friend. Elena let out a small laugh as Rebekah globbed white lotion on her nose and forgot to rub it in, leaving her looking like a lifeguard.

"What?" Rebekah asked warily.

"Nothing." Elena smirked. "Just enjoying the sudden heat."

"Mmm," she murmured, leaning back and continuing to rub lotion into her arm. "It is quite heavenly, isn't it? What did I tell you, Elena? Of course this trip will be worth while. After all, do you ever get this heat in New York?"

"Yes." Elena whispered, a sudden frown on her face. "I mean... kind of." Rebekah didn't say anything back, only kept rubbing the white lotion into her skin in hopes that she wouldn't burn. Elena hadn't mentioned anything to her about the celebratory event that was a mere two nights ago. She had been dancing contently with Matthew, pleased to be in his arms, when Elena came rushing over to her. She looked like such a mess that Rebekah could hardly control herself from wrapping her arms around her friend and demanding to know what was the matter. "Just stay with me." Elena had begged, eyes widened in fear. "Don't let me out of your sight."

"Okay." Rebekah whispered, taking Elena's hand and gripping it tightly. She turned to apologize to Matthew only to find that he was already across the room. Unfortunately, there had been no time to feel hurt or abandoned for Elena needed her more than Matthew did at that time. Elena never explained what had happened to her although Rebekah braced herself every minute, waiting for her to bring up why she had acted the way she did that night. To her disappointment, Elena's thoughts were sealed and locked.

Now they both lay out and exposed on the upper deck absorbing the sun over their heads. It had gone from a cool night to a blazing summer day. Perhaps this was some sort of sign they were getting closer to the other side of the world. Perhaps not, since it was only day two out of..what, twenty-eight? The mere thought that their trip was almost over was simply ridiculous. Rebekah yawned involuntarily and earned herself a sharp look from Elena.

"And why are you looking at me like that?"

"Seriously?" Elena breathed. "You have the nerve to yawn in front of me after keeping me up last night?"

"Ugh, it's not my fault I was seasick. Honestly Elena, you're quite the downer." She murmured, reaching over to place a large pair of sunglasses over her face. "I hope you get sick."

Elena rolled her eyes. Me too, she thought. Actually, Elena felt more than sick. Her mind kept racing back to Damon Salvatore and how she had almost killed herself in front of him. Well, more like admitted to wanting to kill herself - something she had never done before. Not even to herself. She had thought about dying many, many times. Especially in the past two years. The real question was: would she ever actually do it? She had never thought so. But standing there on the edge of the ship, looking down at the water below, she had wondered what it felt like to have the water crash over her. To break the surface and know that there was no going back. The ship would neither stop nor turn back for her. She would be destined to die. Her heart raced at the thought. And Damon...oh, how his words played through her head. I don't want to die alone. I don't want to die alone. Like a chant it haunted her, letting her fear for the stranger she had come to expose herself to. He, too, wished an escape from pain. Because nobody ever wanted to die for no reason. They wanted an escape from some sort of pain in their life. Mental. Physical. Somewhere in between. And because nobody ever wanted to really take their life. It was the simple notion that taking their life was the only thing they had left.

She wondered if he was really drunk that night. Or had he remembered it all, clearly, almost as if he were sober? And if so: where was he now? Was he sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands thinking the same thoughts as she? Feeling the same feels as she?

She stood up quickly and reached for her towel, sweat droplets forming on the edge of temple. "I'm going back to the room." she announced. Rebekah nodded once, waving a hand in her friend's direction. Elena sighed and let her bare feet take her across the deck and back to the room where there she stripped out of her bathing suit and into more suitable clothing. Her cheeks felt burnt and, looking into the mirror, she decided that they were, in fact, burnt. Her hair had grown a shade or two lighter thanks to the sunlight. She looked, sorry to say, nothing like a New Yorker. Her appearance had altered completely from the city girl to the beach girl. The only similarity between city Elena and beach Elena were the dark circles beneath her eyes signaling lack of sleep and distress. Not like anyone would notice, though. Once she freshened herself up and allowed light aloe cream onto her sunburn, she gave a last glance into the mirror and exited the room.

It was time to write.

Although she was a skilled and mildly popular journalist she had taken to poetry writing, as well. Even diary entries were not unusual to catch her jotting down. The notebook she carried now was a lovely shade of coral; a personal notebook that contained the majority of her unspoken thoughts. What started out as a diary somehow turned into a place where she wrote ideas for actual full length novels. Of course, none of these ideas she wrote were ever actually turned into sprouting novels. Whatever she wrote failed to make it to the first of many pages. She never copied manuscripts and sent them over to be judged harshly. She was never thrown in the junk pile. Never did she sit on the edge of the sofa, biting her nails, and waiting for that one "yes" that would prove her destiny in life fulfilled. True, she was journalist. But a novelist was so much more. Knowing that many of the pages were filled with middle-of-the-night-nothings she decided to reflect on such scribbles. She once heard that night is the time of creativity; that the early hours of the morning were when humans were most likely to create masterpieces.

The first entry that caught her eye was dated September 2nd of the previous year at 3:17 A.M.

"I opened the door and peered behind it, something blue catching my eye. No, not blue..red. Yes, yes, it was red. I reached down, quicker than I thought I could ever move, and felt the warmth of what was behind the door. It was liquid. Warm. Wet. In sudden realization I knew that whatever had been behind this door was not a human but some sort of animal. My eyes lifted from the floor and came face-to-face with a deranged looking little girl. With dark hair and dark eyes she coughed, sputtering blood all over my brand new T-shirt. She did not utter a name but the faint sound of "Why?" passed her lips. And then I could see that I was not looking through a door at all, but a mirror, and the twisted image in front of me was nothing other than my own reflection."

Elena frowned deeply. Had she really written that? Her writing never took on such a somber, sadistic mood to it before. She could hardly recall writing such terrifying material. There was nothing else but that haunting, little paragraph. At the top the paragraph was given a title: "Metamorphosis". Ah, how original, Elena! At the wee hours of the morning and she was stealing from Franz Kafka! This, here, is why she could never be a novelist. Her ideas were merely reflections of how she saw herself through the eyes of others. It was then she realized that she, like Kafka's Gregor Samsa, had transformed herself into some kind of demonic creature. Unlike Gregor, she did not morph into an insect but rather into something completely unlike anything else before. Rereading the paragraph again, Elena decided that perhaps turning into an insect would have been better than the deranged thing she had seen in the mirror. It was an odd thing, really, for the date of the entry was not anywhere near a time where tragic accidents could have influenced her to become so dark. It must of been a spur-of-the-moment thing; the result of watching a horror movie, maybe.

Feeling rather dark and twisted she closed her eyes and leaned against the side of the ship. She was in something like a hallway, only the sounds of the waves could be heard - but not seen - and the smell of somebody's lunch filled her nostrils. She guessed it was shrimp dipped in tartar. Or freshly cut salmon, grilled, and now the waiter was squeezing fresh lemon over it. Her stomach grumbled rather abruptly but with the burning, mental image of the mirror girl in her brain, eating did not seem like a good idea.

God...what was happening to her? She felt completely lost in her own mind, feeling as though she imagined everything she had just read. Maybe the passage didn't even exist. Maybe she was delusional, and the wine she had tasted at the Grand Ball had a drug in it. Maybe Damon Salvatore drugged her into thinking about suicide when, in fact, she was more than happy to be living.

Maybe she was not real and the girl that had been in the reflection was.

Hands shaking she made way toward the sound of the waves and found herself on the side of the deck. The bright sun temporarily blinded her before, in an act of rage, she thrust the little book into the air and watched, frozen, as the sea swallowed it whole. The coral cover was gone completely, down, down, down, weighed by the thick and metal binding...

Aftermath: shock, then sobs, and then suffocation.

What had she done? So many thoughts were in the little book. So many words and letters and notes and possible novel ideas. She could have handed that little book to her editors and said, "Here! Work with this!" and together they could have created a best seller. She was a god damn journalist in the writing industry and she just threw everything she dreamed about over the edge of the S.S. Katherine and watched whatever sea take it forever. Damp with tears and feeling clammy from sweating, she quickly turned her heel only to stop again. "Elena." The person breathed, the sound of the voice like sweet music to Elena's ears. It was then that she knew she could have never fathomed such a face nor a voice and that, of course, he was as real as he was two nights ago and that she very much felt like a caged animal.

She looked away, wiping her tears away with her arm. Such a mess I am, she thought. Feeling like a caged animal and probably looking like one, too.

"I don't think so," he said suddenly.

"What?" Elena questioned, puzzled.

He cleared his throat. "I.. You said you looked like a caged animal. I think you look fine."

She felt stunned. She actually said such words out loud? Christ, she was losing it. Everything was spiraling. Her sanity. Her caring. Her life. She decided to fix her eyes and take in what he was wearing: a crisp, white tee and khaki shorts complete with black sandals and some sort of expensive, Italian - maybe French - hat. She rolled his eyes at how...how...rich and yet normal he could be at the very same time. Damon, who had been quite unsure of whether or not she was alright, had chosen to ignore her little scrutiny. Instead he coughed awkwardly and wondered, "Why did you just pollute our ocean?"

She rolled her eyes. "We're going down, anyway. The Earth is planet of pollution that is slowly killing us."

"Interesting reasoning." he murmured. "By the way, Miss Elena, I must insist we stop meeting like this."

"If you recall, Mr. Salvatore, we met in the Grand Ball Room."

"I stand corrected." He flashed a wide grin and she felt like smacking it off his face. How could he be so happy when, two nights ago, they had almost jumped ship together? And then, as if the thought wasn't enough, he had the balls to mention, "You seem less suicidal tonight."

The hair on the back of her neck stood erect as she hissed, "Do you not have business to attend to, Mr-heir-to-the-Salvatore-real-estate?"

He frowned sincerely. "I see you've brushed up on your facts, Miss-didn't-know-my-name-two-nights-ago."

Elena blushed a deep crimson, somewhat feeling like nothing she could say would bring him down. He was witty and intelligent and came with quick reflexes. "I may have consolled a friend or two." was what she was left with.

"Which friend? Caroline Forbes?" he spat, casually flicking something dark from his white tee.

"Why the obsession with her?" Elena demanded, turning to face him. She did not dare to look into his eyes. "If you fancy her, why not make your move before someone else does?"

"I would not dream of choking down a yesterday's breakfast." he scoffed, running his hands along the sides of his head. Checking, probably, to make sure there was not a hair out of place. There wasn't.

The impact of realization was rough, though manageable, and she could not find it within to hide her disgust. Of course. Of course the blond queen would hook up with this charming, dark prince. Walking day meets stalking night as a Salvatore and Forbes clash in what could only be the end of Elena and Damon's weird, mutual acknowledgement of each other's existence. "How lovely it is that she should bounce from one brother to the next as if you were two coins from her daddy's pocket." She laughed bitterly, making her way across the dock and allowing herself to forget the man behind her entirely.

A pest he was, following her closely into an unknown hallway and leaving the sunlight and sound of waves. "And what does that mean, Elena?"

"It means stay away from me."

"I've done nothing to you and yet you lied to me-"

"Lie to you!" she exclaimed, spinning around to look him directly in the face. "Lie to you? I am not a liar! What did I lie about?"

"Why, being a friend of Caroline Forbes, of course." he scoffed rather smugly, blue eyes melting her chocolate ones. "You told me she was merely a friend of a friend. Yet you have confessed two things that indicate you know her: One, of her and my brother's disgusting sneaking about. Two, that she takes from her father's pocket."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Yes because it is so hard to tell that Caroline Forbes lives off of her father's money! Why should she not? She is a year or so older than I without a job or penny to her name other than the one she carries thanks to her father. And with Stefan...that was a guess! I should guess by the way they exchanged such looks two nights ago. I can tell when a woman is in love."

Damon leaned forward to grab the hand that had been folded across her chest in annoyance. He weighed it in the palm of his hand and then whispered, "Love is not real, darling. Only lust, greed, and pity."

Elena's gaze shifted to their connected hands. She was startled that she found herself not wanting to pull away from the ignorant man in front of her that had dared to call her a liar. Elena Gilbert did not lie. She was a journalist. She feasted on the truth for heaven's sake! Using the hand he had captured, she pulled herself toward him. With their faces barely inches away she stared into his eyes and whispered, "Love is real. Those that believe otherwise have yet to experience it." Just as she felt some sort of strange feeling, as if a ghost had passed or a bucket of cold water had been dumped, she tugged her hand away swiftly and began down the hall again. Pleased to hear silence behind her, she let out an unsteady breath and held the hand he had been grasping tightly against her chest. The number 201C was above the next door she headed into. Taking its interior she was pleased to find that some part of her was able to get her back to her room without "accidentally" falling over the edge of the ship or "tragically" being strangled by rope that was often found on the decks, open and untouched. She burst into the bathroom, pleased to see that Rebekah was not back from tanning, and heaved herself over the toilet. Staring up at her was her own reflection among the water and she purged roughly to get rid of it. Once the tears streamed down her face, the room smelled of vomit, and her head pounded, she flushed the toilet and watched as the swirling pink mass of what could only be described as shrimp or grilled salmon began to disappear.

Caroline eagerly bit off the tip of her breadstick, grinning mischievously at her lover across the room. He was batting his lashes at her and making fun of the way she held onto the breadstick. Blushing deeply, Caroline tucked a stray, blond lock behind her ear and shook her head. She turned to Rebekah and sighed loudly. The british blond smiled sweetly and murmured, "Be wise, Juliet."

Caroline simply rolled her eyes and then, noticing Elena's plate was rather full, decided to become a pest. "E-le-na!" She sang, a mother scolding her child. "Do you not like dinner?"

"Hm?" Elena sighed, looking up and then, realizing Caroline was somewhat irritated, looked back at down at her dish. "Oh. I'm not very hungry."

"Yes, I imagine not. After all, throwing books into the ocean can make you lose your appetite fairly quickly." She brought a glass of champagne to her lips, a naughty smile on her lips. After a puzzled look from Elena she explained, "Stefan told me."

Instead of piecing together the fact that Damon ran off and told his brother about her - why was he even talking about her anyway? - she quickly decided to let Rebekah know what she thought of the Salvatores. "You know, Caroline. I think you should stay away from Stefan. The Salvatores seem like huge assholes." Rebekah, who was squeezed between the two girls, started choking on her drink. Caroline's eyes widened and her jaw tightened dangerously.

"Nobody cares what you think, Elena."

Elena did not bat a lash. "I know."

Rebekah twisted her head toward Elena. "God, what's wrong with you, Elena? I thought we were past this whole...S.S. Katherine...thing. Do you miss New York? Is that what this is about? You've been a nuisance on everyone since the event."

Under both of the girls' heavy gazes, Elena shrank into her seat. She groaned and then covered her eyes, head in her hands pitifully. They were absolutely right. She was a nuisance. That's all she was, right? A nuisance. A disgusting nuisance. "I'm sorry I'm making everyone miserable but...god, I don't know what I'm saying."

"You better get a clue." Caroline snapped, throwing down her breadstick in a hissy rage.

Rebekah reached over to put a hand on Elena's back. She rubbed gentle, soothing circles into the girl's muscles in hopes that it would calm her. "We don't mean to be rude. At least, I don't. I just want you to tell me what's wrong." Her voice was so sympathetic that Elena felt herself being looked down upon. She felt like the helpless orphan girl she had become just a mere two years ago.

Thick with sorrow she replied, "That's the problem. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Do you miss New York? Is that it?"

"No." she shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes peered across the room to where Stefan Salvatore was seated. Beside him was his brother (back to her, luckily) and his father, Giuseppe. Stefan's eyes met hers and he blinked innocently. Something passed between them at that moment. Elena could almost feel his thoughts pushing their way inside of her brain. There was Thank you and an I'm sorry. Why was Stefan thanking her? More importantly, what was he sorry for? Just as Damon's head snapped up and Stefan switched his gaze to his brother, Elena looked away. She rested her eyes on Rebekah and then softly whispered, "I threw my journal into the ocean."

Rebekah was silent for a very long time, measuring how serious her friend was. By the looks of it Elena was very serious - more than serious, in fact. "Why?" she finally, warily, wondered.

The brunette looked down, ashamed. "I think I'm going crazy." Just as she murmured these words Caroline stood from her seat and exited the dining room. It was clear that nobody was going to chase her or even pay attention to her. However, there was three people that failed to ignore the fact that, only three minutes later, Stefan exited in the same direction. Elena was one of these three people.

"How did Stefan know you threw your book?"

"Because his brother saw me do it. And I guess he passed the word along. Which, by the way, I have no idea why. But between you and me, I think something bad is going to happen between Caroline and Stefan." Elena whispered, eyes on the door that both the Salvatore and Forbes children had passed through.

"Why?" Rebekah wondered, gaze following Elena's.

"I think something happened between Damon and Caroline. I only encountered Damon twice and already he won't stop talking about her. And the nerve of him to tell me that they were once a thing. Can you believe that?"

"So... Caroline's a slut." Rebekah declared. "That's nice. Does he still like her?"

"I don't know." she admitted, picking up her fork absentmindedly. "I don't even know him."

"I saw you dancing but never thought to ask you what happened...which, oh my gosh, Elena. You deserve me an explanation. What the hell happened that night? I'm done being modest. Tell me. Now." the british blond suddenly realized, pulling her chair closer to her friend's. Elena rolled her eyes but informed her friend of everything that had happened. Except, maybe, the part where they wanted to throw themselves off of the edge of the ship. For some reason Rebekah gave off the aura that she never went through any emotional trauma. True that the blond had been isolated from her family for years, but it would never compare to the feeling of wanting to kill yourself. Elena swallowed thickly, making up some lie about her attraction to Damon (which was not entirely a lie, right? He was attractive.) and feeding it to her friend, thinking that was a good reason for acting like a lunatic that night.

"Look, I know Caroline can be quite awful sometimes-"

"Sometimes?"

"Fine, most of the time, but she's still a good friend. I owe her. You might want to look into talking more with Damon. I don't want her to get hurt. She really, really likes Stefan. It's hard to believe, but she does." And then, tentatively, she added, "I don't think she ever had a thing with Damon, either. I think he made it up."

"It did not seem like it. Besides, Damon seems like...an ass. He's charming, but clearly the typical rich man."

"There's a lot of tension with the Salvatores and the Forbes, Elena. It goes deeper than just some brotherly relationship fighting-over-the-same-girl sort of thing. I think, but I can't be sure, it has something to do with their fathers. But that's just me. I don't know," Rebekah shook her head, picking up a breadstick and munching on it tentatively. "I even feel it has something to do with Ronald Pierce."

Instinctively, Elena found Mr. Pierce on the other side of the dining room. He was still sporting a white suit against a blue tie and he laughed too loudly, making her wonder who he was trying to impress. Was that true, then? From what she had gained, the Salvatore family and the Pierce family were close. Business partners. Family friends. Neither of those families got along with the Forbes. Ronald Pierce had an affair with Caroline's mother. But why would that rain down on their children? There was more to the story. She was sure of it. But did she want to know more? She could barely solve herself let alone unveil a family mystery. Yet, almost by fate, her eyes wandered to the Caroline Forbes that walked back into the dining room: grinning widely, devilish hair, and a smug Salvatore behind her.

Across the room, Damon Salvatore was looking toward his brother just as she had been. It was only a moment before his back was facing her again but not before she could identify the single emotion scrawled across his gorgeous features: fear.

PLEASE Review & Tell Me What You're Thinking!

This story might be taking on a darker theme. Nothing too dark but Elena's going to become more and more depressed and we're going to see a side of her that, perhaps, nobody can fix...

Things may seem confusing now but it'll all come together in the end. :)

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