Trigger warnings: mentions of death, graphic violence and drugs. Signs of PTSD.

AS I LAY DYING
CHAPTER 3: NINE LIVES

Third time's the charm, right?

Elena's eyes open and bile swims up in her throat. She's sick and tired of this. She doesn't panic this time around, because this is getting old and she just wants it to stop. Elena knows there's something wrong with her, because her thoughts aren't normal. She knows that she shouldn't look at life like it's meaningless, but she can't help it.

Because what's the point of caring, if she's gonna get deprived of it all?

She knows someone is watching over her, she can feel their gazes even with her muted senses. Elena closes her eyes, because she'll deal with it when the time comes.

(Wrong.)

#

Eight.

Those are the times Elena Gilbert Flemmings died after gaining conscience of being reborn for the first time.

The first hurt, because she was happy; she accepted it －but then a man lost control of the steering wheel and a truck crashed over her. The sound of her bones breaking plagues her mind when she closes her eyes, even now.

The second was like getting her heart ripped out of her chest, because her little brother was dead. He got his neck snapped, as if he didn't matter at all. Elena watches him closely, but doesn't dare talk to him － she'll only put him in danger.

The third was the less painful －she died in her sleep at the age of two, for a reason unknown. Elena doesn't remember it and she's grateful for that.

The fourth, oh the fourth time she died, it was so painful. Elena was fifteen and crushing on Tyler Lockwood's uncle －too bad she slipped down the Lockwood Mansion's stairs. She laid there, blood seeping out of her, before he came back home. It took Elena four hours for her eyes to close, her soul being transferred to another life.

Then there was the drowning. It made her scared of large bodies of water, the feeling of her lungs inflating with earthy water as she tries so hard to stay afloat. Elena hates it, because she never thought she would go through it again. Elena thinks she should stop assuming things, because fate seems to actively try to prove her wrong.

Seven was supposed to be a lucky number. She thought it was, because she woke up with Isobel by her side and in what seemed a feverish dream. Isobel was humming a lullaby, John by her side as he gazed lovingly at her. Elena smiled.
Seven years later, she was killed in an attempted robbery. Elena decides she hates the number seven.

The last time it wasn't fate. It was all Elena －because, maybe if she did it herself she wouldn't wake up again. She might be wrong, she thought, as she ran the knife straight to her heart. Life draining from her eyes once again.

#

Elena is seven years old and this is the longest she has lived in a few lifetimes. She watches as Bonnie and Caroline bicker, but she can't get herself to care.

It was weird, seeing them again. She had met them in her past lives, but they were kids and Elena just isn't. She hasn't been in a long time, but she tried.

This time she doesn't. Her eyes are bored and she knows the two girls include her just because their parents tell them to, but Elena doesn't really want to be with them. A part of her still cares and she knows that the less they're involved, the longer and simpler their lives will be.

Elena pushes them away, but if anything her childhood friends' worst quality has always been their insistence. "Lena, what do you think?" inquires Caroline, her eyes shining in hope.

Elena shrugs, a bored look plaguing her brown orbs. "I don't care Caroline, I guess you're right."

She ignores the blonde's victorious face, as she mocks Bonnie. Elena rolls her eyes, because she didn't even know what they were talking about but it seemed like Caroline didn't catch that. Nor did Bonnie.

Elena notices that they don't catch things easily. She repreminds herself, because they're kids. They're supposed to be stupid and naive. Yes, they don't know things. The duo doesn't know of everything that goes bump in the night, they are oblivious to the tragic lives they will lead. They're blind to the past six lives Elena was born, unconcerned by the misery of her mind.

She's tired of this. Elena sighs before exiting her room.

They can play by themselves, she thinks. She has some research to do.

#

Elena is running. Her chest feels heavy and she can feel the erratic beating of her heart in her ears. She can hear people following her, their steps loud and all around the place. She takes a right turn, her feet leading her to a dimly lit corridor.

She slows her pace, her eyes wandering over the ruined portraits hanging on the walls. She stops completely when she catches sight of the one that seems the oldest; she's there, in the portrait. She looks rough, her hair in frizzy curls and her face bloodied. Elena's eyes are wide as she gazes at the details of the picture; the blue dress she's sporting in the portrait is ripped and soaked red on the collar, her hands are linked on her stomach and pale.

Elena feels lost as she looks at the gold framed piece of art; a hand closes around her throat and breathing becomes difficult. She turns around and meets his blue eyes, so deep and mean. Elena lets out a choked sound, fear gripping at her heart.

Please, stop. Don't.

She tries to scream, to move her hands and kick him away. His face is inches from hers, his stagnant breath blowing on her skin. She can feel the tears wetting her cheeks, the panic growing in her mind as a twisted dagger nears her eyes.

She screams as he lunges the blade in her head. Elena can see herself, crying as her tears take a rosy color when mixing with the blood flowing out of her forehead.

Her sight gets obscured and her eyes close, as she drops to the ground. Mikael smiling victoriously at her.

Elena is shaken awake by her mother, still screaming. Her ragged breaths are hard to calm down and she doesn't notice the hand gripping at her neck, scratching her skin deeply. It burns, it burns it burns. Elena's brown eyes meet her mother's, so worried and caring.

Elena quietens, the breathing exercises her therapist told her to use scrambling to her foremind. Miranda looks at her, softly running a hand through her sweaty brown hair. Her daughter has been having nightmares since the first time she held her in her arms; when she was four, they decided to bring her to a therapist. Mrs. Dallan was a nice woman, who advised her not to resort to medicines instantly.

Miranda's mind screams, because things haven't gotten better at all. And so, in the morning, she calls the doctor.

The next week, Elena finds a bottle of antidepressants on her desk.

Thank you so much for reading! This story has reached 400 reads, three fourths of which happened just during the twenty-four hours after I posted the last chapter.

Thank u to Sadia251 for reviewing too! To be honest, she isn't my favorite character either. I don't agree with most of her decision and the love-triangle thing got too old too soon.
I hope you liked this chapter and look forward to the next ones, as big bad Klaus will make his appearance soon. What do you think? Please let me know your opinion on my writing and this story.

As always, please follow/favorite and review.

Check out my other TVD stories, Glitch and Violent Delights, and my Teen Wolf one, Foxtail Amaranth.

I'll see u soon,

solarcrystal