She probably looked beautiful, sitting on the Wickery Bridge. I could almost see the heels of her red Jimmy Choo's—that's what she called them, right?—tapping the wood with a thud as her feet dangled over the edge. Her dark chestnut curls would be swept over her shoulder, unruly wisps caressing her tanned face; so picturesque against the melted late October sunrise.

Sometimes, I wondered if she cried; maybe a tear would slip, dripping from a meticulously curled eyelash to trace a dark path down her cheek to possibly land on a manicured french tip grasping the rough, wooden railing or down, further, a hundred feet to join the water beneath. Or maybe she didn't. Katherine was always fickle that way. Maybe she jumped with fervor, passion, and purpose and stared the water down like the way she always used to stare any challenge down, whether it be a game of pool or the freckled red-head holding her last pair of Prada patent leather pumps. I could almost hear it sometimes, if I closed my eyes and listened hard enough, the whooshing sound of the water below, the splash that followed once she let go.

SWOOOSH.

I shot up in bed, rubbing my eyes from the ice cold water that'd been splashed on me by none other than my rub rub... baby brother, of course. "What the hell?" I demanded, wiping the water from my face.

"Jesus Christ, Damon. You have a press conference in forty-five minutes and you're still in bed!" Stefan yelled, a bucket tucked under his right arm. But all I was thinking about was that I should really, really consider asking him where he got his gel, because no matter how grand his aggressive gestures were his sandy brown hair had not moved a bit. I sighed, sinking back into my covers. "Damon."

"What? What? I'm getting ready." The soaked pillow softened my mumbles.

"Damon, you're my best friend, my brother, but you really have to get out of this funk." I heard the sigh in his voice, the tone that said I give up, do whatever the hell you want. "I mean we could always talk-"

"I'm getting up, Stefan. You can go now," I said, nuzzling my pillow for one more moment before swinging a leg over my bed. No, I'd rather not talk about it.

I saw him flinch with the corner of my eye.

"I know you're grieving, Damon. I know it hurts. But it's been ten months and the world's gotten over it, they're going to stop giving you free passes."

"I said, I'm good." I got up, striding past him to get a towel from the bathroom. "And by the way, you know you're gonna be the one washing my sheets right? I fired Rita and Marlane last weekend."

"Why?" They were shit-talking my dead wife, that's fucking why.

"I don't know Stefan," I said to the mirror, as I wiped my cheek. "Just felt like it."

"God," I heard him take a deep breath before continuing, "You know I really didn't want to have to give this to you."

"Give what?"

"I see how this has taken a lot out of you-"

"I think we've already established this," I said, sticking a head out of the bathroom to watch him fidget, his hand going into his pocket.

"Know I'm trying to help you Damon."

I paused, glancing back at him.

"I don't need fucking-"

"Here! Just take it. Alaric thought it would do you good," he said almost reluctantly, before revealing a small red card from his pocket. I eyed him, before grabbing the card.

Mikaelson's House of Splendors

Where fantasies become reality

was engraved in gold, silhouettes of women behind the lettering.

No.

I looked up at him incredulously before bursting out laughing.

"Is this what I think it is?"

I see him shifting from foot to foot. "Hey, just passing it on."

"God knows you need it more than I do," I mumbled under my breath.

"Just keep it, jeesh. I'm just trying to help."

"I think you've done good enough," I informed, smirking. "But this is not necessary."

"Whatever, Damon do what you want with it. I'll see you downstairs in ten minutes," Stefan added with finality.

I love my brother.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But I was so close to strangling him, my hands were itching at the podium. He said this wouldn't be like the others.

"Were you present at Ms. Katherine Salvatore's fall?"

"Was it suicide?"

"Did someone murder her Mr. Salvatore?"

"Do you feel responsible?"

They reminded me of those little kids in the back seat of a family minivan, continuously pounding 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' Did you kill her? Did you kill her? Did you kill her? until you're just about ready to strangle one of those little motherfuckers on the spot, just for a brief moment of peace and quiet.

"Enough! We are here to talk about the Vervain, no personal questions allowed," Alaric finally said taking control of the microphone. It's been like this for months, and I didn't know if I could take another damn reporter asking about her. But thank the lord for Alaric. And soon enough the voices began to finally shut the fuck up, until a reporter raised his hand. "Yes?" Alaric asked the pudgy man shifting in the front seat, a large camera heaved onto one pudgy shoulder.

"Was she sleeping with someone else? Mr. Salvatore? Were the rumors true?"

It was the final straw.

The final 'Are we there yet?' before the strangling came.

I mean they must have known they had it coming. They'd be stupid not to, and before anyone could pull me back or whisper a 'be calm, don't listen to them' in my ear, I rushed down the stadium the familiar burning of rage at the pit of my stomach firing every movement. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then, but at the same time insanely fast. I just remembering pulling my fist back, and watching it connect with said reporter's nose. I imagined how I must've smiled with unbridled satisfaction. By the time his pudge hit the ground, I almost fucking rejoiced whew peace and quiet at last.

But the stark silence in the room reminded me of where I was and what I just did.

I think I heard a pin drop.

But it was a tiny, minute moment of comfort as everyone seemed to swoop in. It was like a drain, and I was in the middle. Except the water was made of voices upon voices, and hands grasping me from wherever which way.

Just let the nightmare stop.

"Damon! Damn it, Damon!" Stefan seemed to get increasingly more agitated with every passing day, and not to mention hella fucking irritating.

"What? What is it now?" I groggily swiveled my chair around to face him glaring at me from across the mess of papers on my desk.

"You would be lucky if that man doesn't press criminal charges," he said pinching the bridge of his nose, the way Dad always used to whenever he caught me doing something that would, and I quote 'reflect negatively onto this family', I could practically hear the gruff Italian accent that came along with it.

I shook my head from the memory before seeing Stefan still looking at me with our mother's green eyes and I realized that he was expecting me to say something. "Well it's nothing we can't handle," I said, absentmindedly rubbing the bandages on my knuckles at the memory.

"Fuck," Stefan said under his breath. "You have to play the sympathy card; that is the only way this will work."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If that man sues you, your business will be down to shit. Our business. People are already deeming us unreliable to work with. The Lockwoods are beginning to pile on shares as it is, and we can't have that Damon. No more bad press." I could see how hard he was trying to push past my apathy, and he should really get a participation medal and pat on the back for it (here's for trying) but at this moment in time I'm just finding it increasingly harder to care much about anything anymore. It's like she was my drive, my passion, and focus and without her I was simply left purposeless.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, feigning concern as I swiveled back around to face the city through the laminated glass window, tracing a yellow taxi weaving in and out of traffic.

"I don't fucking know, Damon. Charity? Change a life, shit. Do anything to make yourself look better, because I don't know what to do with you anymore. You are this company, don't you see that? Your image is everything."

"Calm down, Stefan. God, try not bursting a vein while you're at it," Alaric said finally speaking up. "I think what Damon needs is a break."

"Damn, right," I replied, as the taxi finally faded out of sight.

"Where's that card?" Alaric asked.

"I gave it to Damon."

"Come on buddy, we're visiting Mystic Falls' red light district."

"No! Absolutely not!" Stefan stood up. "Not right now! We're in the middle of a discussion."

"It'll be just like old times," he said, completely ignoring Stefan's protests. Before you married Katherine. "Come on, don't you miss it Damon? We can be badass again, the dynamic duo."

"Hell, I don't know about you but I'm still badass." I stood up, with a grin. I'd give absolutely anything for a change of scenery; something other than these same white plastered walls.

"Prove it! I know you'll love the place, it's completely exclusive. And the best part is that it's literally underground. No one will know who you are and if anyone does, fuck they'll be too ashamed to tell anyone that they were even there. Besides, who would expect you, the CEO of Salvatec Pharmaceuticals, and the capital source of vervain-infused products to be spending time downtown? It's perfect!"

"Well, I for one think this is a shitty idea," Stefan said dejectedly, even his hair seemed to bow down in dejection as he plopped back down on the tight leather chair, I guess even superhero gel couldn't fight disappointment.

"You think everything fun is a shitty idea, Stef. Me and Damon are gonna have a fucking ball, and if you wanna come with, you know where we'll be."

"Well, I'm the only adult here. And we adults have business to attend to."

"Have fun, Steffie," Alaric smiled, before I followed him out the door, loosening my tie.

One night out shouldn't be that bad.

Alaric drove, and by the looks of it he's definitely been at the place numerous times. We stopped in front of what looked like a tiny shop. He smirked at me before we got out of the car. It was quiet; the street lights illuminated red roof tiles atop a dilapidated building. A thick layer of dust obscured the windows, throwing a brown tint to everything inside. The only sound out were the scratching of cats in the dumpsters and the crunch of the gravel as we got closer to the steps, framed by the occasional roar of some obnoxious motorcycle echoing in the night. The vague smell of Chinese take-out permeated the air, and I spotted a neon 'Red Dragon' sign from across the street.

"Um. Are you sure this is the place?" I asked him as we approached what looked like a tiny shop with the words 'Mikaelson's' flashing in red and gold. It didn't make any sense.

"Oh, this is the place alright." He opened the glass door, the bell on top chimed signaling our entry. I followed Alaric as we walked past an aisle of cheap shampoos before reaching the counter, where a woman with wavy blonde hair stood smiling across from us, a dimple popping on her reddened cheeks. She looked young, about early twenties, and by the looks she was giving Alaric, she knew him very well.

"Rebekah."

"Ric, how nice to see you again," she replied, a British accent prevalent in her tone. "And who's your friend?"

"Damon." I shook hands with her.

"The usual?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, before facing me. "You have the card?"

I fished in my pockets, before feeling for the sharp edge of the card Stefan had handed me earlier. "And I also need your ID," she said facing me. I looked at Ric incredulously, my mind half made up to leave the place altogether.

"What are you waiting for?" Alaric asked. I rolled my eyes, fishing my wallet out and flashing her my ID.

"Oooh Salvatore. As in the Vervain company Salvatore? Your products are amazing."

I gave her one of my disarming smiles. "The one and only."

She chuckled, "Welcome in." She turned around, leading us into the small entry behind her. It was dim, the only thing illuminating the narrow hallway was a series of old Christmas lights stapled to the wall. I have to thank Ric for originality, at least. It was stuffy with the smell of boxes, but before we knew it we reached the end of the hall, walking past a few doors before we reached the one at the very end. She winked at me before opening it, revealing a set of stairs leading down to what looked like another dimension. The music was so loud that the lyrics were barely discernible, and all I could see were strobe lights, the room illuminated in red. "Welcome to the Mikaelson's House of Splendors."

"Thanks Beck," Alaric said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before descending down the steps. I nodded at her before following Alaric.

It was definitely another dimension indeed. It had to be. The place was booming, and I could practically feel my eardrums collapsing. But I couldn't help but notice the prevalent, suit-wearing men. What unnerved me the most was the fact that I recognized some of them. What the hell was this place? I ducked my head down, until Alaric and I found a table by the center stage. It was a huge half circle, which extended out into a kind of catwalk. Women were walking around in skimpy outfits and high heels, one of them bending over to give us a drink. "You boys just arrived right on time. Our main event is about to begin," she said with a curt smile before moving on to another table.

And soon enough spotlights appeared on the red curtain, the lights dimming slightly as it opened.

"This is my favorite part," he yelled into my left ear.

I watched as a woman stepped out on stage in a sequined gown barely covering her grotesquely large breasts a mike pressed to her lips, "Thank you boys for coming out tonight! Are you having fun?" she asked with a confident smile, as the men howled and whistled from around us, including Alaric. "To thank you, my girls have prepared something special just for you." The crowd grew even more feverish, the clapping increased, and the woman's smile widened. "Hailing from her homeland in Bulgaria," the gruff yells heightened at this, "I feature the beautiful, the exotic, Constantinova and the Kitty Cats!" The woman said before slinking off stage, I'm surprised her back didn't give out before she could make it all the way down.

"That's Esther Mikaelson, she's the owner of the place," Alaric yelled. I nodded, before my attention was brought back to the stage as the curtains opened, background lights illuminating the silhouettes of the women on stage. Music began blaring through the speakers, as the women sauntered forward. I liked it, so far. I did, because what red-blooded male wouldn't? But, they weren't her and for that simple fact, I couldn't get as excited as Alaric was. He was practically ready to jump from his seat. "Isn't this great?" I simply nodded once more, taking a sip from my drink.

Suddenly, one of the women began singing, I stood up a little straighter. That was some voice, holy shit.

I bust the windows out your car.

And no it didn't mend my broken heart

I'll probably always have these ugly scars.

But right now I don't care about that part.

As the girls spread out, they revealed a tall red chair in the middle of the stage. I could see the silhouette of long hair, and tall heels as it hung over the edge of the chair, but her face was obscured by darkness.

I bust the windows out ya car

You know I did it cos I left my mark

Wrote my initials with the crowbar

And then I drove off into the dark

The movements of the ladies dancing around her were mesmerizing though, and I had half a mind to get these girls some kind of record label or a stint in Vegas, but nothing - and I mean nothing could've prepared me for the main event. Suddenly the lights switched on, revealing where the voice had been coming from and I almost spit my scotch onto the sticky mess of a table in front of us. This must be 'Constantinova'.

It was like my breath was knocked out of me, and suddenly I understood what the men were howling at.

She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes on. The fact that she had killer legs were obvious by her silhouette, but the lights revealed just how smooth and tanned it was as she slowly slid her legs to the front of the seat, bending over to reveal the cleavage spilling from her corset top. She grabbed a crowbar from under the seat, before turning heavy lidded eyes onto the crowd, sauntering to join the rest of her girls.

But it don't comfort to my broken heart

You could never feel how I felt that day

Until it happens baby you don't know pain

Her petite red lips quivered as she sang the notes. There was simply something in the way she moved, it was as if every fluid stroke of her arms or sway of her hips held a dark secret only meant for whoever took the extra care to pay attention.

And it wasn't too long before each of the girls struck a pose, ending the dance to the roar of the crowd.

"Well, shit." I said, sitting back into the plush seat.

Alaric laughed, "I thought you'd like her."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? She's Katherine reincarnate." A pang of hurt hit me in the chest at the mention of her. But what was worse was the fact that she'd completely slipped my mind as soon as I saw the girl on stage. I'm definitely going to hell. Alaric seemed to sense my sudden change in composure when he swiftly added, "Besides she's not affordable."

"Maybe I don't intend to buy." I smirked, before standing up.

"Wait, hold up," Alaric stood, amusement evident in his voice. "You're here to relax remember?"

"Exactly." I finished the rest of my drink, feeling the liquid courage burning down my throat as I tried to find the woman.

Elena's POV

"I'm scared for you, babe," Caroline said, before loading her tray with drinks.

"Why is that?" I asked, popping a cherry in my mouth.

"Vicky looks like she's about to eat you alive. I was surprised she didn't push you off the stage, God."

I laughed, before shrugging my shoulders. "I don't care about her."

"Good for you. Besides, she's just jealous 'cause you're Klaus's new favorite."

I chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

She gave me a look, "You're really gonna ask that? He personalizes all your outfits! There's a reason why you're 'Constantinova' and we're the fucking 'Kitty Cats'."

I laughed before closing my lips over the cigarette dangling between my fingers. "I guess."

"Well am I gonna see you after your shift? I'm getting our stash from Kol, in about…thirty minutes."

"You don't have a client tonight?"

"Kol is my client," she winked, before strutting away drinks on hand.

I smiled at her, before taking another drag.

She's just jealous 'cause you're Klaus's new favorite, her chipper voice echoed in my desolate mind. Oh, the price of being the favorite. I opened my eyes, glancing down at my right wrist and the barely discernible purple bruise staining the skin. I really need to cover that up. Men didn't like the evidence of other men on their playthings.

I took one last drag, watching the embers eat away at my last source of happiness. I didn't realize how much time had passed until I heard Caroline again.

"Elena!" I turned to see her approaching me, circle rings replaced the tall glasses on her tray. "I think Klaus wants to see you. He's up in his office. Aw, guess we're not meeting up after then?"

"Probably not," I said, before maneuvering myself between the meat slabs of gyrating men and half naked women. I sighed, breathing in the stale humidity that their mingled sweat produced, until I finally reached the metal stairs.

I was in the hallway fist poised to knock, before I heard the muffled voices from behind the brown door.

"I'm sorry, I'll let you meet her but what you're asking for is simply not possible."

"Well, I suggest you make it possible."

"You see, someone had already paid beforehand for her time, and it's an exceptionally large sum of money. We'd benefit immensely if-"

"What you don't understand is the fact that I just don't care. Do as I say, or I'll shut this branch down."

Then the sound of heavy footsteps followed by the familiar click clack of heels grew louder, and I quickly knocked. The door opened, revealing a man I've never seen before, dressed impeccably in a dark suit, hand in hand with a tall thin woman whose cloud of brunette hair obscured her face from my view. The man had soft eyes, making it hard to believe that he'd been the voice intimidating the Klaus Mikaelson. I felt a shower of disgust in the way he eyed me, before striding out with the girl. That must've been the new management the other girls were whispering about.

"Hello, my love," Klaus drawled. "Come in!" I sighed, walking to the overly stuffed couches in front of his desk. If Madam Esther was the puppeteer of the underground shows, Klaus was the doll maker. And, he did love to play with his dolls.

I sat, watching the yellowed walls behind the light brown curls plastered onto his forehead. "Darling, a request has been made for you." I tore my eyes away, and forced myself to look up at my warden. I kept my lips pressed in a tight line, suddenly hating the man with the soft eyes with a passion."That means," he continued, "that you are entertaining someone tonight, my dear."

"Okay," I said. "Is that all?" I sighed, already formulating the lie I would later tell Jeremy as to exactly why I wasn't able to make it home in the morning. I could already see the betrayal that would play in his bright brown eyes, and the resulting guilt that would settle at the pit of my stomach because of it.

"Oh, don't look so sad. You're breaking my heart. I promise it won't be that bad."

"So I hear," I said standing up. "Who's the client?"

"Damon Salvatore, the head of that Pharmaceutical company near Second Street." Oh, right. The playboy turned husband turned widow, everyone knew about him. I tried to contain my surprise, from what I've seen a man like that had no business being in a whorehouse. Every woman would pay him for a night. I could have it worse, I suppose. "He's down by the bar, I hear."

I nodded. "Are we done?"

"You may go." I stood back up, making my way to the door. However, before I was out I heard Klaus's voice from behind me.

"Wait."

I turned. "What?"

"I want you to rake in as much as you can from this fellow, you understand? He's…a special client. And special clients usually give especially bountiful profits - if stroked the right away." I nodded stiffly, like a robot that had just been programmed her master's command."Yes. Now go on, work your magic on the poor fellow." I shut the door behind me, the image of Jeremy walking down the steps of his school a diploma in his hands, providing a sliver of comfort.

Showtime.

Damon POV

I felt almost guilty for leaving Alaric, but seeing as he was busy, eased the guilt some. The search was futile, and I really needed another drink.

Why was I even here? This isn't my place. Alaric has his tastes, but this isn't mine. At least not anymore. I closed my eyes, rubbing my head against my hands, "And that'd be $35.00, sir," a voice above me said. I raised my head as he placed the drink in front of me. I nodded, taking out my wallet, but before I could hand my money I heard a familiar voice from behind me, halting my movements.

"Don't listen to him."

I turned, suddenly finding myself face to face with the Goddess on the stage. "Gosh, Elena. Do you always have to be such a rat?" the man in front of me said.

"You know you love me," she replied, laughing. "The drink's $25."

I glared at the man who looked on apologetically. "Hey, we all aren't billionaire businessmen," he mumbled before helping another customer.

"He's a dick, don't pay attention to him," she said before her lips quirked up in an infectious smile. "Elena." I was so busy reminding myself to breathe that I didn't notice her hand had been held out, she was even more beautiful in person if that were even possible. I rushed to take it, causing her to chuckle softly as she slid into the chair across from me.

Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? I coughed, "Not Constantinova?"

"That's just for show. They insisted it gave me a more exotic feel, but don't tell the Madam I told you that," she said with a wink. "How about you? What's your name?"

"Damon Salvatore."

"Salvatore, huh?" she said. "You wouldn't happen to be that philanthropist, business owner, vervain guy now would you?"

"You forgot dashing, charming, and irresistible."

She laughed, and holy shit what I would give to hear that again. "And modest."

"Of course," I said.

"Well, what's a catch like you doing at a place like this?" she asked, gesturing at the bartender to give her a drink.

"A friend dragged me, said it would be fun."

"Are you having fun?"

"I am now." She smiled before looking down, and if we weren't where we were and she wasn't who she was, I could even characterize the move as being shy. And it struck me how that could be. How something as sinfully seductive as this woman sitting across from me could still emanate an aura of pure innocence. It was the moment when she looked back up, thick eyelashes framing her wide doe eyes, that I knew that I had to have her. Not have her as in have her (though I wouldn't complain), but to have her as in delve into her soul and figure out exactly who she was, she fascinated me endlessly. I always did have a thirst for enigmas. I sat up a little straighter, loving the fact that I had some effect on her. "Now what are you doing in a place like this?"

Her mouth parted just a little, and it looked like she was about to say something else before replying, "Well…we all aren't billionaire businessmen," she said, echoing the bartender's earlier words with a chuckle. "Besides, it takes more than a glass of champagne to hear about my back story, honey."

"How about two?" I asked, inching my chair closer to her.

She bit her lower lip, and I watched until it popped out from her pearly whites, slightly swollen. God, how I wanted to kiss her. I could lean in just slightly, capture those pink swollen lips, and feel them move against mine. I would run my tongue against her lower lip, until she succumbed with a gasp and let me in."Nope," she said. "Not telling. Besides, I'm more interested in learning about you." I shifted in my seat, lifting my eyes back up at hers.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm not the sharing type," I said before taking a drink.

"Seems we've reached a bit of an impasse," her eyes taunted me.

An idea struck me. "You up for a game?"

She appeared to be thinking for a bit, her face scrunching up and reminding me of the puppy Stefan had owned a few years back. "Okay, enlighten me, Mr. Salvatore."

"Alright," I said, smirking at her. "We can play twenty questions."

She gave me a strange look before nearly toppling over her chair laughing, but I kept my stance. "You're serious!" she said, attempting to reign in her laughter. "Alright, then. Twenty questions it is."

"Ground rules, no lying."

She giggled, before managing a straight face. "Of course."

"And you can pass. But you'd have to take a shot."

"Sounds fair. Let's get this game started," she straightened in her chair, and for a second we were just two people having fun, and not in the midst of sin, sweat, and sex. "How old are you?" I was genuinely wondering.

"That's easy! I'm turning twenty-one in a few months," She smiled, grabbing a shot from the counter. I laughed. "Now, Mr. Charming, Dashing, and Irresistible. Why are you really here?" She asked eyes sparkling from beneath her thick eyelashes.

"What gave it away?"

"Nothing. I'm just good at reading people."

"Well, what do you read about me?"

"Is this one of your questions?" she asked taking a sip from the martini glass, that Dick-the-bartender handed to her.

"Sure."

"Well…I see someone lost," she said with a kind of finality.

"Lost?"

"Yeah. To me, you look like someone who could have anything he wanted, but doesn't really know what he wants. So you go through your days, going through the motions, driving but unsure if the road you're on is still the right one. So you go to places like these, something different from your daily motions; an escape, because that's the only way you can take a free breath and leave whatever it is you're running from behind, the thing that overwhelms you, and maybe - just maybe, you'd find what it is that you're actually looking for." I stared at her, speechless. Who is this girl? She looked down, breaking my gaze and I had an urge to trace a finger to the bottom of her chin to lift her eyes back to mine.

But instead, I just took another drink."And you got all of this just from me sitting across from you?"

"Well, yeah. You're wearing Armani which tells me a few things. For one, you sir, are filthy rich, which already opens up a billion possibilities, places, and people that are all not this seedy bar and not someone like me. But you choose not to. Why? Well, you want anonymity. The only reason anyone would want anonymity is because they're hiding from something; they don't want to be found. Or they want to create a separate persona other than themselves, but seeing as you didn't care to hide who you were from me, then you must be running. Besides, everyone's looking for an escape from their own personal hells they've created for themselves…" she suddenly shook her head. "And I am talking entirely way too much."

"I like it."

She simply smiled, "Your turn."

"How did you end up working here?"

She paused for a second before saying, "I'll take that shot."

"What?" I asked her incredulously. "That's not fair."

"I think it's completely fair. I just gave a stripper's psychoanalysis, I think I can pass. But you can ask me another one…"

I laughed. "Alright, I'll be nice. Do you have any siblings?"

I watched as her lips pressed in a tight line. "No," she said in a clipped voice. For some reason, I feel as if I crossed a barrier of some sort, and I suddenly desperately wished I could take my question back as I watched her shoulders deflate, the life seeming to flow out of her like a balloon. I was overwhelmed by the urgent need to make her happy. I just wanted to hear her laugh again.

"Katherine!" I rushed inside the bathroom, nearly tearing the door off it's hinges as I watched the blood pooling on the floor from her wrist. I saw the ruby red slits on her arms, the life draining out of them, her left hand was quivering, fingers turning white with it's deathly grip on my razor. But that wasn't what scared me the most. It was the expression in her eyes, or the lack of. She was simply staring at the once white polished tiles, deaf to my yells. Tears were running down her cheeks, wetting my hands as I tried to wipe them away, her hair sticking to the white plastered walls. But there was nothing. I was holding nothing. She was nothing; a propped doll. Please God, I didn't care if she was yelling at me, throwing her heels at me, anything was better than the stark silence of just watching her tears fall and being so helpless. I just want her to be happy again.

Elena ran her hand over her thick brown locks, placing it over her shoulder and I almost choked on my drink at how much it reminded me of Katherine. Before I could stop myself I leaned in, watching the question in her eyes as I tucked a loose strand behind her ear and whispered, "Come home with me."

Review Please! I'd like to know what you guys think since this story's super experimental for me and I'm still on the verge whether I should continue or not.