NB: Thanks for your kind reviews. I hope to update at least one more time within the next week or so because after that I'm going to Europe to travel for the summer and won't have my laptop to update.
To the reviewer who asked about my other story, maybe one day I will finish it but I have no inspiration. Feel free to leave ideas about a general direction to go in but right now I'm so over that story and haven't thought about it in a few years so an update soon is extremely unlikely.
Chapter 7
Blake Shelton & Gwen Stefani – Go Ahead and Break My Heart
You know I'm broken, I don't trust anyone;
Last thing I needed was to fall in love.
You got me dreaming got me thinking I got some hope,
there is nobody and someone to get to know,
but I'm so scared I don't know what to do.
How did you get me so into you?
April 25th 2013.
Dear diary,
I need to see him. I have to see him.
E x
Tuesday. 9.26 p.m. Target has been spotted in vehicle with unidentified female.
And I have gone completely bonkers.
Look at me. What would my pre-Damon self make of me if she knew that at nineteen years of age, I was crouched behind an elderly lady's bin outside my not-even-ex's parents' house waiting for him to come home from a date I only found out is happening because I guessed his Facebook password? (damonsalvatore123, reallyDamon, really?)
And yet, I couldn't seem to stop myself. Thoughts of him had consumed me to the point that if I didn't see him, I was afraid of what I might do. Knowing his Facebook password just made things worse – every little minor detail that happened in Damon's life, I knew about it. He'd wasted all his money on nights out and couldn't afford his rent for the upcoming month so had been forced to move back in with his parents. He'd been talking to loads of other girls via private messenger and had told his best friend Alaric that he'd created a Tinder profile which had guaranteed him sex whenever he wanted it. In a moment of desperation, I'd typed my name into the search bar of his messages to see if he'd ever spoken about me to anyone. The only thing I found, except messages before things got messy was to some random girl who he'd appeared to have met on a night out:
Have you had a girlfriend before? Xx
Not per say x
Huh? X
I had a thing with this girl, Elena, but it didn't work out. She got too clingy. I don't do clingy. Let's not talk about it xx
Oh, ok. Lol. I'm not clingy, just to let you know babe xxx
And that was that. No more conversation. We were best friends for months and now all I am now is some crazy girl who got a bit too clingy. Of course, I wasn't helping matters now hiding in his neighbour's garden waiting for him to come home but as long as he didn't see me, it would be fine. Right?
Saying that, I don't know what I hoped to accomplish out of this. No matter the outcome, I'll end up being hurt. If he gives her a goodnight kiss, I'll be completely devastated but if he sends her on her way and goes into the house alone, it'll fill me with hope and that is perhaps far more dangerous for my emotions than any chaste kiss would ever be.
Finally, after what feels like three years, Damon's taxi door swings open and he steps out, his usual picture of perfection. Alone. I sigh in relief. But it's not over yet. Before closing the door, he ducks his head back inside. It's dark but I've been outside for the past hour, my eyes have adjusted. He says something and I see her face light up in response, she leans in to kiss him but he changes it to cheek. Still, she doesn't seem disappointed. The taxi door is slammed shut and it drives away, followed by Damon's lingering gaze. My head is swarming with ideas. What does this mean? He didn't want to kiss her, or he didn't think he could control himself if he did? He stared after the taxi – was he just making sure she was safe, was he stuck in a daydream or was he lingering there, engulfing the remainder of her scent? Every thought consumed me all at once, making my head spin. I needed to get out of there. I needed to think. And I couldn't do that behind a smelly bin with a pissed-off cat who was arching her back at me with the overpowering stench of outdated chicken that was making me want to gag. Slowly, I retreated backwards keeping one eye on Damon at all times. He strolled to the door almost giddily, a slight stagger in his step making me think he'd had more than one beer tonight. Hope engulfed me, thinking maybe alcohol would dull his senses to any more movements I made.
It didn't. I step on the gravel in the neighbour's garden and the deep crunching noise in the silence of the night causes his head to instantly whip around. I am a deer in headlights.
"Elena?" He is squinting in my direction but we have yet to make eye contact. I think fast.
"No," I call, trying to make my voice sound as high-pitched as possible. "It's Melanie, your neighbour." His neighbour was 62 years old with short blonde hair and a walking stick. I know that, not because he told me, but because once, a few weeks back, she'd came out of her house to ask me why I'd been sitting parked outside Damon's house for an hour. My answer was, of course, he hadn't replied to my texts and I wanted to make sure he was okay but he wasn't home so I was waiting for him. She'd gave me an almost pitiful gaze and moments later, had appeared with tea in a flask.
"Elena, I know it's you. I recognise your jacket." Damn it! Curse you black coat that I wear absolutely everywhere. I sigh, my face heating up as I make my way towards him. The only thing I have now is fifteen seconds to come up with an amazing excuse for why I'm camped out in his neighbour's garden.
Of course, me being me, I try to be smooth and slide between the two bins that lead to his garden and I trip over the stupid cat – who hisses at me like it's myfault – and fall flat on my face into the soil. Mother Nature is certainly not my friend today. With my face in the dirt, I make an executive decision that I'm never going to move again. Here, in my little mud garden, no one could see my beetroot face or the tears threatening my eyes. They could not see my failed attempt to spy on Damon or the pathetic loser I had become. Yes, I liked this patch of soil very, very much. Unfortunately, Damon did not.
"Elena, are you okay?" I could feel his footsteps vibrate on the ground as he ran over to me.
I pushed myself up onto my knees. "I'm terrific, can't you tell?"
He crouched down and looked at me, giving me a once over, before bursting out laughing. "You're an idiot." He rolled his eyes and wiped dirt from my cheeks and mouth.
"Understatement of the century."
"Why are you here, 'Lena?" he whispered, pushing back the hair that had glued to my face with a brown and sticky paste.
I sighed, the time for secrecy was gone. The only way I would ever get him back, or even get him to remotely understand that I wasn't simply a crazy person, was to lay all of my cards on the table and pray didn't hate me. "Because I love you, because I can't stand to see you with anyone else but me, because even though I know it won't change anything, I just needed to see you, because-" I broke off into a choked cry. Why was it always me who ended up getting hurt? Was this some fucked up karma from a past life or am I just gluten for punishment?
"I don't know what to say." He said.
"It's okay," I muttered through my tears. "I know what we are – and I know what we're not."
He stared at me for a long moment and in my desperation, I honestly thought he was going to change his mind. He didn't, of course. "I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be."
"I'm sorry for everything." I turned away so he couldn't see me cry anymore.
He reached over and pulled me in towards me, hugging me so tightly I almost stopped breathing. "Don't apologise." He sounded kind. God why couldn't he just be a dick? Why couldn't he call me a freak and a psychopath? Why couldn't he tell me to piss off because he didn't want me, and tell me to move the fuck on? At least then I could hate him. But sitting like that, with my head on his shoulder, crying into his shirt whilst he wrapped his arm round me and whispered that everything was going to get better, my heart only swelled with one emotion. Love. Fucking love. This boy had shattered my heart into a million pieces and I couldn't even muster the energy to do anything but love him. I was a mess.
After what felt like centuries later and yet still too soon, reality began to seep into the bubble we'd created and shame enveloped me. "I'm going to go," I finally uttered, abruptly standing up, not allowing myself to relish in the comfort of his arms. "I've caused myself enough humiliation for one night, I'm sorry, again."
He just looked at me with those huge, sad eyes. "No, I'm the one who's sorry, Lena. You deserve someone else. Someone who treats you better, someone who can make you happy."
My face was burning red but I tried to salvage the last of my dignity. I forced myself to look him in the eye. "Maybe I do deserve someone else, but I always wanted you."
If someone asked me if I was able to pinpoint the exact moment my life started to fall apart, I would tell them, without question, it was April 25th 2013. That moment when I barely managed to get out of Damon's perpetual vision before I collapsed on the pavement and cried until there was no tears left. The half hour I spent curled up in a ball unable to feel anything except numbness. The truth that I would probably still be there if a police car hadn't stopped and dragged me home, waking up my confused parents in the middle of the night. I was too distraught to communicate what had happened and collapsed onto my bed an empty shell of a girl. All I longed for weeks after was a moment when the pain would stop, when I could take a breath and it didn't hurt as much anymore. That moment never came and I realised how stupid I was for ever believing it would.
