Elena's POV
I surprisingly slept well that night in Elijah's house. I could hear Jenna's baby cry a few times, but I actually found the sound comforting. The sound of a crying baby made me feel safe somehow.
The next morning, I awoke amidst a sea of sheets that tangled themselves around me. I rose up and threw on my Sunday best. We would be leaving for church soon and I remembered how long it had been since I had gone.
"Elena, we're leaving," Elijah spoke softly from my door and smiling just slightly.
I walked toward the door, tying off my braid when I reached where he stood. Downstairs Jenna and her baby were patiently waiting, swaying to some invisible melody. I grinned at her and she kindly returned the favor. Then, without another distraction, all of us strolled down the stone path, heading toward the church. No one said a word.
When we finally reached the entrance of the church, I felt my stomach turn. I was so scared to see everyone again. Had they heard what Damon and I had done? The three of us walked down the seemingly long aisle that held the 1,500 members of the sect. We found a section of seats fairly close to the altar. I sat beside Elijah, Jenna and the baby on his other side. For a long time, I stared around, taking in these familiar surroundings. I sighed in sadness, no longer able to convince myself that I had missed it.
Moments later, the Prophet stepped out with the Committee just behind as they did every week at church. The Committee had their own seated area off to the side facing the congregation.I watched as the countless men followed their leader. I took in each of their appearances, trying to guess which were as good as Diana had claimed. Some were blonde, others with flaming red locks, and one with a beard down to his chest.
One had the same dark tendrils as Damon, even the same pitter patter of his feet. I stared at him longingly, but paused at a realization. It was him. My eyes grew two sizes too wide for human standards. A gasp escaped me and tears ran like streams down my cheeks. I was nearly paralyzed.
"All rise," The Prophet caroled, and everyone immediately stood on their feet.
Elijah had to yank me from my seat, but my attention was locked on the blue-eyed stranger in the distance. I had convinced myself that he was gone, that his life was the price he had paid for taking us away from here. Maybe I was still working on forgiveness in my heart, but I saw it in his face that day. He would have done anything for me.
"Damon," I whimpered when he briefly made eye contact with me.
He pulled his eyes from me just as quickly as they had met me. The congregation all stood chanting a hymn while I uncontrollably cried, as if death were silently taking my soul with every note. Elijah touched my shoulder softly and leaned down so that his lips sat beside my ear.
"Elena, you need to stop crying right now," He whispered assertively.
I forced myself to hold back whatever tears remained, wiping the streaks from my cheeks. I just stood there, watching as his eyes fixed themselves on his hymn book. As time went on, the church service felt painful to sit through. I couldn't take my eyes off of him and yet, they never met mine again, not once. He simply stared at his book, his body slouched in his seat like a timid child.
After, Elijah brought us over to see his family. I remembered Esther and Klaus from the dinner party, and for a while, I watched Rebekah giggle beside her husband, Matt Donovan, a boy once in my math class. I refused to look my old sister wife in the eyes. I knew she hated me for taking Damon from her, but she almost seemed happier with Matt. He at least had no other wives, able to pay all of his attention to her.
Elijah wrapped his arm around me while his family talked to us. I just stared at my hands and thought about the joy of getting out of there. It was humiliating to stand there, waiting for someone to point me out as a traitor, a sinner.
I glanced over my shoulder when I heard Caroline's unique cackle as she walked swiftly to Klaus's side. He kissed her cheek, and she smiled. I was truly thrilled for her. If only my life were so fulfilling. If only I knew what that happiness felt like.
Damon's POV
I could not even look at Elena. I was too ashamed of myself after what I had done to her. It was better if I just let her move on with her life without me. I had promised to protect her, and I had let her down. When the service had come to an end, I watched Elena and her new family gather. Even then, I could not help but bow my head and stare at my sore knuckles, my reminder of the monster I had become.
Moments later, I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around and there stood a man with a prickly brown beard and a white smile. I looked at him in confusion when he handed me a small slip of paper.
"I can help you. Meet me at my house at three," He whispered furtively before walking away.
I instinctively glanced at the paper with his address and name: Alaric
When the clock read 2:45, I strolled down the road, heading towards the address in my hand. I reached a house similar to my own with as small porch and a swing. My legs were jelly when I moved to knock on the bright red door. I was unsure what I would find from this man. Was it a trap to test my loyalty to the Prophet?
He opened the door before I had time to reconsider my choices, gesturing for me to come in. I stepped inside, surprised by how messy it was while I temporarily stood in the foyer. There were clothes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes on every table, and even books stacked on the floor.
"Damon. I heard that you were able to escape with a girl a few months back. I know you want to get out of here and I can help," He told me as he poured me a glass of something.
"You can?" I asked incredulously, untrusting and full of hopelessness.
"I came to this community a few years ago on with the need to expose this place. If you help me, I can help you," He spoke, handing me the glass.
"You know there are cameras, right?" I asked worriedly, scanning his room.
"I check everyday. They have gotten tired of filming me anyway. So what do you say, Damon?" He asked as he lifted his glass in the air, nodding his head.
"I will do whatever I have to get her out of here," I mumbled, clinking my glass with his, before sipping the brown liquid.
I almost choked on it as it scorched my throat. I coughed hard and Alaric just smiled.
"What the hell is this stuff?" I hissed.
"Bourbon. Snuck it in a few years back. Helps you relax," He grinned as he took another sip.
"So what do you need from me?" I asked, swirling the drink in my hand.
"Evidence. If we can prove there is abuse, we can get the cops involved. There's no cellphone service here, so once a month I take the bus that passes by here to get to the nearest FBI headquarters. That damn bus only passes once a month, though."
Alaric was leaning on the mantle of the fireplace, his teeth clenched.
"How do we prove it?" I asked.
"Using exactly what these assholes do...hidden cameras," He responded, smirking.
"I'm in. I will do whatever it takes," I confirmed without any fear.
"Looks like I just found myself a new drinking buddy!" He sighed and sipped his drink with a smile just as relieved as my own.
Elena's POV
At dinner, I stared at my plate as Jenna held her baby in her arms. Elijah glanced at me briefly, probably wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I ate my ham quietly until I mustered up the courage to look at Jenna.
"Jenna, can you tell me about your baby?" I asked as I secretly held my tummy under the table away from all eyes.
"It's a little girl. She's about three weeks old and she is my first," She smiled as she handed the baby to me.
I grabbed the baby like I had when Mary was born. The baby cooed, and I smiled as Jenna let out a small laugh.
"She likes you," Jenna exclaimed.
"What's her name?" I asked while I stroked the baby's cheek gently.
"Hope. The Prophet finally gave in and let me name her that," She laughed, but my face turned distraught.
I looked into the baby's eyes just then and nearly thrust the baby back into her arms abruptly, pulling myself away from the table. Then I ran. My lungs gasped for air and my delicate heart raced into oblivion. No, no, no. All the memories were coming back. The way Diana looked at me the night before she was killed. The way she held my hand and told me to never be afraid. Her death was all my fault. Everything was my fault. I rebelled, I ran, I caused her death.
I was sobbing on my bed as I thought of everything I had done. In those infant eyes, I saw innocence. I saw myself and Diana and my child's. If I had only listened to Damon. If I had not run away. If I had turned myself in, none of this would have happened. I placed everyone cared for in jeopardy because I was selfish. That was it. I was selfish.
Elijah entered my room after about twenty minutes, my face hidden beneath the covers in shame. As he sat down next to me, I felt his hand settle on my back.
"Elena, you didn't ask to leave the table. You know that's a rule, right?" He asked softly as I let another tear drain from my eye.
"I'm sorry, Elijah. I don't feel well," I whispered, my voice stuffy.
"I'm not going to punish you, okay? I know this is a rough time for you," He assured me as he rubbed my back lightly.
I sat up instantly and wrapped my long, lanky arms around him. There was such an intense longing for someone to comfort me. I felt alone and somehow an embrace was all I needed to feel better, if only for a moment. And he held me back, continuing to rub my spine. I even tucked my face into his neck, as if to escape this world.
"I know you're scared, Elena. It will all work out," He whispered into my ear, and I clung to his shirt desperately.
"I know," I whimpered back.
It must have been another week when I finally felt ready for Elijah. I knew I had to move on from Damon. I knew this time would come sooner or later, and I had prepared myself. Elijah stood in my doorway, and I sat on my bed, waiting for him.
"Elena? Are you okay?" He asked, seeing my face droop.
"I'm ready," I whispered, and his eyes fell to the floor.
He maintained his emotionless face, his attention moving to meet my gaze. He took four steps toward the edge of the bed mournfully. It was as if he understood how hard this was for me to say.
"I don't expect you to be ready-" He began to explain, but I interjected confidently.
"I'm ready," I confirmed, but he looked at me with sad eyes.
"Okay," He whispered in defeat, and I walked to stand in front of him beside the bed.
He wrapped his arms around me so gently as he leaned down and just held me. I closed my eyes to hold back any tears that threatened to slip from me. Then when he finally felt me relax, Elijah pulled away enough to reach the buttons of my mint green dress. He allowed the dress to slip down my arms before pulling it gently off of me.
I let him have me in any way he wanted me that night. If he wanted to cup my breast I didn't fight him. If he wanted me to unbutton his pants, I did it without a word of protest. I relinquished myself to Elijah for the sake of my child.
He pulled me to the bed, laying me down effortlessly, and I waited for him to slide his underwear off. I kept my eyes closed, and even as his hips straddled me on the bed, I lay lifelessly on the mattress.
"Look at me," He breathed beside my ear.
I peeled my lids apart stubbornly, wanting nothing to do with what was being done to my body. He brushed his fingers over my stomach, still not visibly with child. I was so early in my pregnancy still and Elijah was not aware, thankfully.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you." He nuzzled my throat, breathing in my scent.
Each of his hands rested on the tops of my knees, which he held as he pushed himself inside me. I choked back a whimper of pain. The memories of rape, of pain, of abuse, it escalated every sensation. I wanted it out as soon as it was inside me. Silently, I cried, unable to forcibly repress them. He moved in and out slowly, like dragging a knife inside and then removing it, only to begin again.
"Elena," He growled in ecstasy as he continued to thrust into me, holding my hips.
I sobbed then, throwing my head back in agony. It took Elijah by surprise and his eyes moved to meet mine. He slowed his pace even more, clicking his attention back and forth between my two glossy eyes. His lips gently landed on my trembling pout and he stroked my body comfortingly. The man hushed me soothingly, but I could not stop myself. It was traumatic and horrible and heartbreaking. I just cried, even as he attempted to kiss me, but I never returned the gesture. Then with one final thrust, he paused and pulled out of me, and I had never felt so relieved.