Damon's POV
I was hysterically sobbing as I listened to Elena's screams grow more distant. Those asshole had thrown a bag over my head moments following, and I was panicking, trying to break free of my ropes, knowing it was no use. A gunshot fired and I felt my heart break...Diana. They killed her, they ruthlessly killed her. I was yelling so hard that my throat became physically sore. No more than five minutes later, I felt them walk me out to a van. Even as they did, I tried to scream past the piece of cloth clasping my jaw. My body unexpectedly met the floor of the van, and I cried out as I was thrown haphazardly inside.
We had been driving for what must have been three hours. Diana lived a great distance from the compound, knowing we would be safer with miles between us and the enemy. It seemed no amount of separation could keep them from eventually hunting us down. Those men had their resources, that I was sure of. Tears rippled down my cheeks, but in those lonely moments, I had nothing better to do. Elena was gone, my growing child gone too. The Committee had dragged her back to that place. I thought about where they would take me next...maybe to a cliff where they would push me off, or possibly a cemetery where they would force me to dig my own grave before shooting me as I scrambled to climb out.
Some inexplicably long interval later, I heard the car come to a stop and within seconds, the van door was torn open. Their hands grabbed me roughly and pushed me forward, and the sound of shoes on gravel echoed all around. Someone thrust me inside a building where they continued to prod my shoulders until we came to a room. They took the bag off my head, allowing me to finally see where I was. The space was tight and dark, but an enormous window took up almost all of one wall. When I looked again, I noticed it wasn't a window looking outside, but one that peeked into the room beside us.
My abductor sat me down on the only piece of furniture that filled the room-a simple black seat which they tied the rope around so that I couldn't move. I stared through the window to view the room in front of me, trying to figure out my location. My mind wandered aimlessly until a feminine shriek tore my eyes upward, and I watched as a man dragged Elena into the room. I began to struggle against the chair, trying again to break free. I wanted so badly to reach out and save her, but I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried.
They threw her onto the bed and without warning, a group of men sprinted over to hold each of her limbs. My mind was screaming for them to stop, and I felt so helpless as she laid there wrestling to free herself. The men only held on tighter, even as she begged and pleaded. To my shock, the burly man with a dark moustache beside me removed the gag from mouth and without another thought, I let out a long roar of frustration and anger.
"She can't see or hear you. It's a two-way mirror and this room is soundproof, so save your breath," The man hissed, but I cried her name over and over anyway.
In the viewing window, Mosiah walked over to her, my stomach sinking in fear. He was carrying a knife, and I allowed a long wail to seep from my lungs when I saw what he was doing with its tip. I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch. In complete denial, I shook my head as I yelled her name frantically. One of the men whacked the back of my head with his hand to silence me.
"Shutup. I want to hear him," The other hissed.
This situation was so bad that I thought I would soon pass out from exhaustion. I was gasping for air with every frenzied sobs of my wife, the Prophet taunting her. I will never forget the shrill of her cries as she begged them to stop, and I couldn't even save her.
"I'm pregnant. Please sir," She barked hysterically, throwing her head back in emotional agony.
That was my breaking point. I needed to convince the Prophet to free her, no matter what it would cost.
"I'll make a deal with him. I'll do whatever he wants if he doesn't go any further," I choked and almost as if it were programmed into their brains, the men all smirked at me.
It's like they were waiting for me to say it. One of them left, entering the room where Elena was being tortured, calling to Mr. Barlow.
"He wants to make you a deal," He hissed, and the Prophet triumphantly sauntered to the door,
Elena's crying in complete relief.
He entered my room minutes later.
"I heard you want to make us a deal, Mr. Salvatore," The Prophet purred as he stepped closer to me.
"I will do anything. Just promise you won't hurt her or touch her anymore. Let her go. I will do whatever you ask," I cried as my heart continued to race in my chest.
"Good choice, Damon. We'd be happy to oblige as long as you agree to our conditions," He smirked, the others following his lead.
"Anything," I snapped.
"What would you say to joining the Committee?" He asked as he played with the knife he used to...to hurt her.
"Yes. Now let her go," I barked.
"My other conditions include that both of you must stay," He almost mumbled it like he was drunk...and maybe he was, in retrospect.
"Why won't you just let her go?" I screamed, still attempting to escape the tight ropes.
"Do we have a deal?" He asked me as he ran the blade across his fingertip.
"Elena will be with me, right? We are married under the contract of God, which you can't break," I mumbled tiredly.
"And I'll break your neck if you don't stop pissing me off. Take it or leave it. This is your last chance before I go back in there," Mosiah roared.
"Fine. I'll accept your deal," I cried out, too afraid to test him.
I knew I had to do whatever it took to protect her. This sacrifice would be worth it, not only for her, but for our baby. I owe Elena the world. She deserves a clean start, without me. If it's the last thing I do, I will save her. Maybe she will never forgive me for the choices I made with her delicate life, but I hope I can offer her the happiness of freedom in some capacity.
Mosiah saw his grin widen when he heard my response. He directed the men to take me back to my house, the one I had raped Elena in. I watched as they instructed the others to release Elena, and return her to a spare room until the Prophet decided where she would go. I bowed my head, too sad to look at her any longer. I suppose I didn't have to see her eyes to know that her heart ached more in that moment than any physical pain ever could.
Elena's POV
All of sudden they stopped. Just like that. Their hands retracted and I took the opportunity to cover myself with the fabric of the dress around my hips. They still yanked me heartless toward the door, but with nowhere near the same force on that bed. I was shocked, unsure what had just happened. Maybe they were just changing location, and no matter the reason, I cringed at the thought of more vulnerability and pain as I rubbed my sore wrists.
At some point they took their hands off me, but I made sure to follow them without instruction, knowing I did not want those dirty palms to touch me again. I walked along the hall, realizing just how sore my body felt. Then we stopped, and someone opened a door to expose a small room with a giant cross over the tiny bed. There was a decent wood dresser and a small round table. I saw a small bookshelf full of old Bibles and hymn books abandoned by society.
I stepped inside the threshold and the door slam shut behind me, just before the lock clicked. Paranoia haunted me, as if I were being watched. Damon had told me that they had had cameras in my room, but it always felt better when I didn't know the truth. Still trembling and thoroughly exhausted, I sat down on the bed, wiping my cheeks stained with tears and snot. There were unsurprisingly no more tears to shed as I thought of Diana and even a little about Damon. I had no more will left in me to fight, not even if just to speak. to punch a hole through the wall in rage or scream as loud as I could.
"You would have been a good father," I whispered, eyeing my flat abdomen.
Maybe Damon had tortured me and used me and hurt me, but he still had a capacity to love. He might have eventually come to love me, but his heart adored children, even the ones who were not his own. I had not lost all of that man. This baby was a piece of him, and he would know his father was good.
If I had anything left to fight for, it was this unborn life. I would find every way to protect it, with or without Damon. That didn't mean I would forget about my husband. It didn't mean I wouldn't remember those beautiful moments where he was a good man. It just meant that this baby would come first. I wouldn't risk escaping or talking back or rebelling against a world I knew was tainted. I had to do whatever it took to keep this angel safe, even if that meant letting Damon go and staying in this awful hellhole.
I remember waking up on that bed the next morning, holding my belly with my right hand, trying to feel something, anything. Maybe it was too early on to experience such life. I knew nothing of pregnancy. It was supposed to be Diana who helped me through this. My heart aches again, drilling a deeper hole into my heart.
The same girl that had ripped the hair off of me the day before appeared in my doorway just then, her arms carrying a light blue tray. She set it down and swiftly exited the room, her eyes diligently concentrated at the floor. I walked toward the tray, desperate for something to quench my thirst. The glass of water was the first thing to meet my lips, and I chugged it ravenously.
By the time I scarfed down the contents of the tray, I had collapsed on the bed, feeling the coolness of the sheets beneath my withered frame. I did not know how long they would keep me in there and I found the anger within my bleeding soul to grip the sheets in frustration. At least they were feeding me. As I laid there, I thought about Damon. I imagined him holding our baby, rocking it in his arms. I thought about who the baby would look more reminiscent of. Would our baby have his piercing blue eyes, and if so, could I look ever look at them without crying?
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the man that entered the room. His blonde tendrils were gelled in the front and his shirt just as formally tucked into his dress pants. The plain brown orbs of his eyed me up and down for a few seconds before they met mine.
"Follow me, miss. I will bring you to your new husband," He said in a soft voice.
I actually believed he might not be as bad as the rest of them. My face drooped and I felt weak. In a few moments, I would meet my new husband, for better or for worse. It was about time I let my old go...it would only make this transition harder for me, and I couldn't risk that.