He was Katherine's pet.
That's what she needs to know about their entire relationship. He meant absolutely nothing to her. Not a damn thing.
He sighs and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He hates talking about this. Hates remembering Katherine in any way.
She understands. She knows what a manipulative, vindictive bitch she was, but regardless, she was a part of his life. A part that he needs to tell her. They don't hold anything back. They're not supposed to. Those are the rules.
He nods his head. He knows what the rules are, but just this once, can't they skip it? Why is this so important? It's a part of his life he hates revisiting.
She stares at him from her position at the foot of the bed, cross-legged and angry. She stares at him until he can't ignore her eyes on him, until he has no choice but to look at her. None of the things they talk about are things they necessarily want to revisit. Doesn't he know that? Doesn't he know that there are things she didn't want to remember but did anyway? For him? Don't chicken out now. They've already come so far. There's no point in turning back. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and begins.
Katherine was never his. She didn't belong to anyone no matter what Damon says or thinks. She didn't care for him either.
He remembers both the good and the bad.
Except the bad came later.
He admits – although he hates to do it – that he was in love with her. He didn't realize at the time how sick that love was. How perverse. How twisted. Truth be told, it wasn't even love. Not one drop of feeling was love. It was a lie. It was all a fucking lie.
He sits up, suddenly filled with a rage he hasn't felt in decades. Out of all of this, does she know what the worst part was? It wasn't the false love, or the face of kindness she put on. It wasn't even the bloodlust. It was the fact that she stole his brother from him.
His brother. His flesh and blood. The only person whom he had ever truly counted on and loved.
She ripped them apart. Made them tear each other to pieces just so she could have a little fun. Just so she could be amused. He lost his brother so she could giggle.
The vehemence in his voice scares her. She hasn't heard this tone before, hasn't seen this side of him. The rage and hatred makes her wish she had never brought up the subject. Maybe she should have left it alone.
But no. She needs to hear this, needs to know this. Needs to pay close attention.
After it was all said and done, he had nothing left.
Not his father.
Not his brother.
Not his life.
And he sure as hell didn't have Katherine. As far as he knew, Katherine was dead. Burned alive because of his mistake. He lived with that guilt for years. For years he carried around her death like a fucking cancer, letting it eat away at him because he couldn't bear the thought of forgiving himself. He let his brother hate him, allowing him to make his eternity miserable as repentance. And all the while…
He moves away from her, crawling up the bed to sit against the headboard, clenching his fists. He could kill her. He could kill her. She stole everything in his life that was valuable enough to steal. Even if he ran into her now, even if he became crazy enough to track her down, she would never apologize. She would never explain. She would merely laugh in his face and tell him she only took what he gave her.
And he gave her everything.
She didn't even have to ask.
No, he wouldn't track her down. He'd wait the bitch out. He knew Katherine enough to know that eventually she would become curious. She would want to see him, to see Damon. She would come to them and not the other way around.
She's afraid to reach out to him. For the first time, she is ashamed of her face. The memories it must conjure up for him. The emotions. She hides her face in her hands because she doesn't want him to see it. She wants to spare him this.
His hands are suddenly on her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. He tilts her chin up until she's looking into his eyes. She is not Katherine. He knows that. If there is only one thing that she should know, it is that he does not think of Katherine when he looks at her. He only sees Elena Gilbert.
She's all he will ever see.
He wraps his arms around her, and her head nestles in the crook of his neck. This demon of his has not been conquered. They both know that.
But one day – hopefully one day soon – it will be.