A/N: Some of you may believe I am writing this from the grave; No, I am not dead, just one exhausted mommy. There was also more confusion having to do with my pen name. Stark is what my husband uses as a stage name. And now, I bestow upon you the long, long, long awaited next chapter of Rock the Ballet.
Chapter 18:
Dirty Little Secret
Previously…
"What's wrong?"
"We think Markus locked himself in his room."
"I-I'll go. I'm the reason he's in there."
The cheating. The neglect. The silence. All wrapped up into her fists as she viciously banged on the door, screaming, "Markus! Open the damn door!" repeatedly.
All the breath was snatched away from her in the instant the door opened.
In high school, Caroline, class president, cheer captain, head ballerina at the studio, leader of her local Girl Scout troop, was a bubbly, charismatic Virginia teenager looking forward to driving to New York City with her boyfriend to wipe the slate clean. Reality hit her square in the face when Tyler dumped her for a crack-whore, none of the local student dance programs would accept her, and she had instructed her mother upon graduation to not send her money no matter how much she pleaded. And her mother never backed out on her word.
Stuck between a rock and hard a place, she had never seen worse conditions in her entire life thus far. Forced to settle into an acute apartment smack dab in a drug dealing zone, she worked from four in the morning at a local diner dealing with the early-bird diners and irritable truck drivers, all the way to eleven at night serving gang members and strung out residents. The diner would occasionally be robbed, thankfully she was never working when it occurred.
It would be exactly three months after starting her job at the diner that a man quite literally walked into her life. He was dressed in a fine suit, quite far from the attire the usual wore. She occasionally had to walk the half-naked attractive man who stumbled in with a bottle of booze in one hand and a crooked smile on his face at ten-thirty in the night, home to his uptown apartment far from the hellhole she was forced to call home. She would be lying if she said she wanted him gone.
He had sat down directly in front of her, wearing sunglasses dark enough to where you couldn't see the color of his eyes. All she remembered was the way his lips curved beautifully every time he spoke a word, and how she had to ask him to repeat his order at least three times due to being distracted.
He would show up at the diner every day for the next two weeks, always wearing the same stylish suit that indicated, yes, he has a fine sense of style, but no, he was not some lawyer or stuck-up businessman, telling by the sunglasses he never took off. Always paid in cash, which she didn't find strange at first.
She had set up his usual spot with the silverware, the only thing actually still decent about the diner, laid out the placemat, placed his cup of coffee, one sugar and a splash of milk, on the right, and then waited.
Ten minutes passed. She served a wiry-looking old lady with green glasses her pancakes, never taking her eyes off the door.
Thirty minutes passed. She walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of waffles for the teens in the corner booth, and saw the cup of coffee no longer surrounded by the steam it was giving off just minutes before.
She sat on her stool behind the counter, chin in her hand, watching the door.
Two hours passed, and she was damn near tears. Her only source of hope from the outside had suddenly abandoned her, just like her father, just like her boyfriend.
It was a week later she received a letter in the mail from Valene Parét, stating she would like to see Caroline audition for a part. She had immediately sent her confirmation, and auditioned.
Her life after the mysterious man went dramatically uphill.
And now, her world came crashing down around her.
She had never seen a person in such a manner before. His clothing was torn in places, plastered with ketchup and dirt from the floor. He didn't dare to open his eyes. The room was dark, though she thought she could smell burnt paper or some other material. The wall directly to the right had a large hole the size of an adult male's foot, obviously caused by anger.
Her anger never dissipated, "Get the fuck up."
It was then his eyes snapped open, boring into hers. "What?" He half-heartedly whispered.
She callously narrowed her eyes, repeating once again, "I said, get the fuck up."
Using his hands, he pushed himself up warily, keeping his gaze on the ground. He stayed on his knees, slowly lifting his gaze. "Care, I-"
She raised her hand in a threatening manner, "Don't ever call me that again. That is reserved for people who I give my entire trust to. You obviously," She emphasized each word with growing anger, "do not care about my trust. Or my feelings for that matter!"
He nodded brokenly, keeping his impossibly blue eyes locked to hers. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline rushing through her. Her eyes remained wild.
Realization, humiliation, shame rushed through his veins, forcing his eyes shut. Moments passed before she realized his shoulders were shaking.
Her eyes narrowed, "Now that I know you're not dead, I'll be leaving." She spun on her heel, taking one step forward towards that door to freedom. It felt like a million weights had been lifted off her shoulders. By the time she reached the beautiful duvet which had not been touched during his perilous rage, she heard the stomping on someone's bare feet just behind her before they slipped with a thud!
She continued on, ignoring the sounds of someone literally crawling across the floor in a desperate hurry. Her hand had turned the handle when a sticky hand gripped her ankle.
She spun around, looking down to find the mussed man below her on his knees, hand still wound around her ankle. Tears were cascading down his ketchup-stained cheeks, eyes bloodshot.
"Caroline, I love you. P…Please don't leave me," A great sob wracked his entire body, loosening his grip on her ankle, "I can't live without you."
She wriggled her ankle free from his grip, crouching down to his level. His eyes brightened as she leaned forward seemingly to kiss him, but she abruptly stopped just centimeters away and hissed, "You'll learn," before tapping his nose with her forefinger and walking out the door.
"Elena? Where are you?"
"Did you know?" Her voice sent shivers down his spine like always. Damn, he thought, she has me wrapped around her pinky.
Confusion washed over him, "Know what?"
"About that bastard friend of yours cheating on Caroline?" She sounded just as heartbroken as her friend was.
Damon's anger towards Markus spiked, unconsciously releasing it out on Elena, "No, I didn't know. If I did I would have fucking killed him then and there."
There was silence on the other end, nearly choking him to death before, "I want to help Caroline cope, but she's been denying any comfort."
He rested his forehead in his left hand, rubbing circles into his temple with his thumb, "I'm sorry. If I had just kept her away from him maybe…" Maybe what? They were predestined to find each other.
He sighed, "What a fucking mess."
Bonnie sat on the couch, eyes glued to the television. Channel after channel of local news were all , focused on the scandalous affair of Markus and Vicky Donovan, all mentioning the critically acclaimed ballerina who was left with a shattered heart.
She flipped to channel seven, watching the brunette reporter go through her opening spiel, before chirpily announcing news. Bonnie watched for several minutes hoping to be distracted from the affair.
The reporter's lively mood darkened, nearly every woman in the city currently despised Markus, before announcing, "A source close to Markus Collett has stated that Victoria Donovan and Markus have been in a relationship since January of last year, and that, Caroline Forbes, critically acclaimed ballerina of Valene Parét's New York City Ballet Company, is in fact the mistress. Paparazzi have in fact spotted Donovan and Collett out on the town on multiple occasions in the past year," The reporter went silent, a grave expression plastered to her face before she brightened, "Today, Mayor Wells recently declared a…"
Bonnie's eyes were wide, mouth agape.
"Caroline, please, just get here as fast as you can."
Walking down the streets of the city, she felt no need to rush, "Why? I'm finally calmed," She merged into a crowd of people, ignoring the incredulous stares being directed her way, "I don't understand why I need to rush there. I'll get there when I get there."
Before Bonnie could inhale the breath needed to speak a word, Caroline ended the call, shoving her phone back into her jacket pocket. She walked across the street, following the crowd around her.
The farther she went down the street, the more stares she received. It wasn't until she reached 34th Street that she realized nearly every eye in the city was turned on her.
He was driving home close to midnight to his apartment when he spotted a familiar face walking down the street, face taut with stress. He pulled over a few feet down the street, and rushed to her.
He gripped her shoulders, "What are you doing out here? It's freezing." He slid his jacket off, and placed it on her shaking shoulders.
"I'm fine." She pushed his hands away, and continued walking on.
He went to walk after her when a voice shouted, "Hey, you! You can't park here!" He made a passive gesture before running to catch up to her. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around, "Elena, the least you can let me do is drive you home. I don't want anything to happen to you."
She tore her arm from his grip, looking him dead in the eye, "Just leave me be, Damon," She sighed when his hand fell back to his side, shoulders slumped, "I need to find Caroline. The news just spilled some devastating info, and she could be jumping off a bridge for all I know." She broke her gaze before continuing on down the street, his jacket rested up on her shoulders.
A/N: Tell me your thoughts about this chapter, and how you think Caroline will respond to the devastating news!
I'm guessing a lot of you were not expecting any of that. Neither was I until I found it scribbled in my notes from a few months back. We will be back to focusing on Delena maybe the next chapter or chapter twenty.