Yay, I got a chapter up! Thank you for all the follows and kind reviews, it really makes my day :)

(To answer a review, and maybe if anyone else have thought the same – Evangeline simply looked at the attendance list to get an idea of how often every student had been there, if there was someone who was absent frequently and so on, in order to get an overview)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries


''Why are you wearing that scarf?''

I tried my hardest not to glare at him. Good or bad, I'd inherited my mothers compassion. I always had to treat people as I wanted to be treated myself, always as nicely as possible. ''Why do you ask?''

I tried to recollect any time, any time at all, when I'd ever spoken a word to Damon Salvatore. His brother came off as nice enough, but the elder Salvatore was crude, full of himself and a bit too much of a... well, douche, for my taste. From what I'd heard and seen from afar, he wasn't the nicest person to be around. And now, he just randomly came up to me and asked me about the scarf. He wouldn't do that if he didn't knew something. Maybe his brother asked him to, so that he could see if Damon would get an answer out of me.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why they were so persistent, though. Did they know about... about vampires? I didn't want to bring that up again, because it still felt like a distant dream, a haze – something that I still couldn't decide if it was real or not.

''Oh, just wondering.'' His smile was more of a sneer, to be honest. I didn't trust him.

He leaned over the counter and locked his eyes on mine. He had the same look in his eyes as Stefan had before, but he wasn't trying to cover it up.

''You sure you don't want to share?''

''Oh, for the love of...'' I muttered, but stopped myself. ''Yes, I'm sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some tables to tend to.''

''If you say so, honey.''

I cringed. Ignoring him as best I could, I went to collect dishes from some tables. I noticed Elena at one of Sarah's tables, deeply concentrated on reading a book. When I went back with trays packed on my arms, Damon suddenly brushed past me and threw me off my feet.

I waited for a clang but it never came.

''Sorry 'bout that,'' his honey sweet voice rang as he gently placed the tray I was sure would've hit the floor, on my arm.

''Thanks,'' I mumbled and quickly stepped away from him. He winked at me and then went over to sit by Elena – who like me looked anything other than happy about it.

I'd been in a bad mood all day – all week, really – and being harassed by Damon Salvatore about the same thing as every one else seemed to ask me about didn't make it better, not one bit. Lucky for the customers, they weren't many, so they were spared my fake smile and strained pretending-to-be-happy voice.

''Ev!''

I turned around and found Pete from the kitchen looking expectantly at me with a box in his hands. He reached it out to me. ''Give this to Damon Salvatore, will ya?''

My shoulders slumped in defeat. Just my luck. ''What is it?'' I frowned.

''Peach cobbler.''

''Um... okay,'' I said tentatively.

That was the first time Damon Salvatore had ordered anything other than liquor, to my knowledge. And I spent quite a lot of time at the Grill. So forgive me if Damon Salvatore ordering a peach cobbler came off as a bit strange.

I hurried to the table were Damon and Elena sat and put the box in front of him quickly, avoiding any possible hand-to-hand contact.

''Perfect, thank you,'' he said, and actually sounded nice. My ability to read people told me he wasn't really trying to.

''You're welcome.'' Because, for some reason I was always nice to people. I treated them the way I wanted them to treat me, and all that. Even if they didn't give me anything in return, I still did. It was just who I was. Sometimes, though, I wondered if it only was a trait or if it was something more. At times, I almost felt compelled to be nice. As if I couldn't help it.

Thankfully, when Elena left, Damon did to. And she got up pretty much as soon as he sat down next to her. Then I was left to myself for the last hour of my shift, the only customers being the ones already seated at Sarah's tables. And since it wasn't an evening shift, they weren't many.


I made dinner that night, since my mum came home late for work I figured I'd have it ready for when she got here. After putting the lasagne in the oven, I dragged myself to the bathroom.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn't know why I expected something other than the same tired and pale face that always met me. I was always tired. Always. And right now, with all that'd been going on, I wondered how much more I could take. How much emotional stress could a person go through, before they broke down?

I'd always been strong, especially emotionally – always having to keep my feelings bottled up so that I wouldn't accidentally transfer them onto somebody else. It was getting so hard, though. After everything with Caroline, I didn't know how to deal with it. And it wasn't like I could turn to anyone and release some of the pressure put on my poor brain, either. I mean – something strange was up with me, both my mum and I knew that, but that was different. Right?

Grimacing, I gingerly started to pull off the bandage on my neck. I tried to breathe slowly, but my heart was racing. When I got to the last piece, I closed my eyes.

I gulped, and dropped the white fabric in the sink, still not looking. I was scared to look, but I opened my eyes and peeked anyway.

It wasn't too bad, surprisingly. All there was were two faint black marks, that most likely no one would notice. I turned my head and looked as well as I could from the side as well, and then they were almost invisible.

I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding in. Maybe it would all work out in the end. If the physical evidence disappeared, then I could write it off as a bad dream. Just a bad, bad, dream.


When my mum and I sat down for dinner later, she tried to coax me into talking but it didn't really work. After a while she realised that I wasn't really up for small talk.

But after quite a long while of silence, the only sound having been the clattering of cutlery on plates, she decided to speak up again.

''So, Caroline got out of the hospital.''

I felt a chill down my spine. ''Oh.'' I swallowed nervously.

''I just thought you should know. She's better than when you last saw her.''

Yeah, right. When I last saw her, she would probably have killed me like she almost did the first time.

''Oh,'' was all I could get out, again.

''Thank you for dinner, honey. It was great.'' She placed her knife and fork neatly on the plate and downed the last of her water.

''No problem,'' I mumbled.

It wasn't hard to tell that she was worried about me. I mean, I didn't even have to touch her, it just oozed right off of her, getting everywhere in the room. It was suffocating – that heavy, damp feeling of worry that made your heart rate increase and had you feeling as if someone was slowly pressing their hands harder and harder around your neck. I had to get out of the kitchen.

''I'll do the dishes later.''

''Oh, no, don't worry,'' she assured me. ''I'll take care of it.''

I nodded in thanks and practically rushed out of the room. When I got to the top of the stairs, the weight was lifted off of me and I could finally breathe normally again.

I felt bad for my mum... I never wanted this for her. I never wanted her to have to deal with this, to have to deal with me. If that's how worried she'd get from time to time, then she couldn't be feeling too good either. But she never talked about it – and I guess I didn't ask often enough.

I sank down on the edge of my bed and stared blankly in front of me. I didn't know what to do. And not just about all these overwhelming emotions, but about everything! Work, money, my mum... life. I felt like I didn't know how to live anymore. I was stuck in this day to day routine: waking up, going to work to earn money, going to work again and then getting home only to work even more and then go to sleep. I felt stuck.

Standing up again, I began pacing about the room. The walls started to close in on me, and for a second I thought that maybe my mum had followed me up to my room because I started to feel heavy again, like something or someone was pressing down on me with all their might but never actually crushing me. But my mum was still downstairs... this was all me.

It would get like this sometimes – bottled emotions flooding out without me being able to control it. But it had never been like this, and I couldn't control it. Usually, I would manage to get it under control fairly quick. But the feelings had not been near as heavy as these.

I went into the bathroom. If I distracted myself, maybe I could calm down.

But I got even more claustrophobic, and I ended up at the bottom, curling up in a ball and letting the water run over my knees. I couldn't tell for how long I sat there. Somehow, maybe the hot water helped to relax all the tension in my body, I managed to get myself up, stepping out and wrapping a towel around my body.

Getting into my bathrobe with robotic motions, I staggered out to my bed and lay down with a soft thud. I sighed and placed a hand over my forehead. Why did I always have to feel so much? Why? I never asked for any of this – and I didn't know how to deal with it. Not right now.

I reached out to my right and traced the corners of my nightstand. When my fingers came in contact with the book laying there, I grasped with my fingers, brought it to me and opened it to the last page I'd read. Books always helped me get my mind off of things.


''Evangeline?''

I looked up from the book I was reading and saw my mother peeking into my room. The air in my room suddenly grew thicker, and I could tell she was still worried.

''Yeah?''

''The masquerade is tomorrow...'' she trailed off, biting her lower lip.

I'd almost forgotten. The dress was still hanging in the same place, I just hadn't found it in me to look that much at it. The masquerade... the thing was, it really excited me that I was going there. But right now, I was just numb thinking about it – all the eagerness had gone away completely.

I think my mum was waiting for me to reply to her, which I hadn't planned on. ''And...?'' I tried to get an answer out of her a bit faster. She was still worried, and I could feel it a few metres away.

''Well, do you need any help?'' she asked.

I shrugged. ''Sure.'' It was no secret that my mother was better with makeup and hairstyles than I was. I could make myself look presentable for a normal day, but when it came to evening events, I was lucky to have her.

''Why didn't you go to the Historical Society Volunteer thing?'' she added. ''I thought you loved those sort of things?''

''I do...'' I said slowly. I didn't want to tell her that the reason I went was that I didn't want to risk running in to Caroline. If she was out, which she was, the only natural place for her to be was right in the middle of all the town events. She had always been involved in those things, and I just didn't dare to risk it. The only times I went out was for work, and even then I had to really force myself.

''So?''

I looked down at the book again, avoiding looking her in the eye. ''I had other things to do.''

''Okay...'' She didn't believe me, I could tell. She looked at me with worry in her eyes. ''You know... if you need anything, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?''

''I know, mum,'' I mumbled.

''And if this has to do with your... um...'' she struggled to find words. We always did. How did you put a word to something that wasn't supposed to exist?

''It's not that,'' I said quickly, and subconsciously pulled my sleeves down to cover my hands.

''Okay...'' She sighed heavily. ''Good night, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon?''

I hummed and nodded in confirmation and tried to look like I went back to reading, when in fact, my whole body was stiff as a board and I stared straight at just one word.

''Good night,'' she repeated and in the corner of my eye I saw her close the door quietly, with slumped shoulders.

I had to make this up to her somehow. It was just and endless cycle of feelings... if I felt bad, then she did – and when she felt bad I felt was she did and it just never stopped! Where did I get all of this from? All of these feelings, all this compassion constantly forcing me to feel everything to the max?

And if I didn't figure out why people were so interested in my covered neck, then I might just explode, because I couldn't take anymore prodding. Where they involved somehow? Did... did they know?

I was so freaking torn between wanting to forget and acting like it didn't happen, and the natural urge I had for figuring stuff out. Because it didn't make any sense. None of it did.

And, god, it was driving me crazy.