Abigail's Magic Prison~ Date Irritatingly Unknown
As time passed-
Well, Abigail supposed it passed, for all she knew it was the same day Damon left. Ignoring the twinge of loneliness that thought brought, she focused on a way to get to the garden. Clearly the shadows were important, but they came no closer than the edge of her garden scene.
She believed that since she was able to change things inside the room itself and she had made the garden appear, then she should be able to expand the house. All she really needed was the path from her room to the garden. She tried focusing intently on just that path, but a voice and memory kept intruding.
"Abigail," the voice beckoned. Low and intimate, yet also mocking and monstrous, she knew that her path outside would take her past the terror of the room he'd turned from an everyday visit, to a living nightmare.
Blinking out of her fear and terror, she wanted to scream. Frustration, terror, anguish, everything pent up from one night. One month if she wanted to be fully honest with herself. She didn't scream, she couldn't and wouldn't. Her mother had raised her to be measured in her responses. More decorum was expected of a woman of her station.
Shaking off her irritation, she closed her eyes and tried again.
Mystic Falls, VA Mid to Late September 2009
Damon was annoyed. Perturbed. Irritated. Aggravated. Pissed.
As he sat in the faux dungeon of the Salvatore Boarding House, ironically on the date of his rebirth, he was running through all the synonyms for how he was feeling.
Hungry. Thirsty. Dry. Starving.
Stefan was planning on interring him in the family crypt once he was desiccated. Strike two in the irony column. All because Stefan took offense to him attempting to seduce Elena away from him. And possibly because he was using the head cheerleader as his personal blood bag. And maybe because he was toying with the townsfolk. OK, so they had a laundry list of reasons to put him down for the count, but dammit it still sucked.
Like blood from a ripe young artery. Parched. Cottonmouthed. Burning. Yearning.
He'd obviously picked the wrong walking Happy Meal. Out of an entire school of willing cheerleaders, he'd picked the most aggravating one. Killing her should have happened long before he finally tried, and that brought him back to his current housing situation.
Brought down by your own food. Irony checkmate.
He was close to his goal he could feel it. He shouldn't have made a move on Elena, he knew that it had been stupid. Mostly he'd done it because the cheap fix he'd gotten of Stefan's angst from the news about Abigail hadn't lasted long enough. Guess poking Teen Angst Carebear wasn't smart. Coughing drying, he considered his options. Not enjoying the likelihood of the success of many, he settled on his least favorite. Happy Meal to the rescue.
Damon wasn't aware that he wasn't the only Salvatore with multiple balls in the air. While he wasn't controlled by the obsession for Abigail Morgan he once was, Stefan did feel fear for her.
She'd been locked inside her own head for nearly 150 years, that couldn't be a good sign.
He was also finding himself having to reassure Elena about who he was, and that found him making her a home cooked meal at the Gilbert house. He gave her a backstory with enough history that he hoped would keep her mind calm. He also assured her that Damon was gone. No longer an issue for any of them to worry about.
Elena reassured about him, and feeling happy with how their relationship was progressing. He hoped that he could come clean one day, but not just now. Her being happy with his answers made it easy for him to return to his issues with Abigail Morgan.
After Damon had confirmed that the "ghost story" Caroline shared was true, his memories came back in a flood of blood and terror. He remembered his father's death, the killing of the rest of the staff, but it was Sallie's face- eyes pleading, that surfaced the hardest. Seeing the person closest to Abigail rendered bloody and twisted by his own hands brought him to his knees. And the stage he'd set, blood and organs, of the people she'd known so well-how could he have done that?
The memories were real and hard to face. He had to find a path to free her. To let her know that she was finally safe. That she could finally live a long and peaceful life. A life free from him and Damon. He just had to find a way to make it happen.
