I remember he slept with me that night. It felt nice to feel someone's warmth, even after crying my eyes out in disgust for hours after we had officially consummated our marriage. I felt safe and that's all I could ask for right then. Around midnight, I heard the baby cry, and Elijah groaned as he repositioned his hands on my body. My skin shivered as his breath tickled the hairs along my neck.
It didn't take long until I was asleep again, dreaming of what life would have been like if I had given Damon a second chance. Now there would never be that imagined future, even if I wanted it. Would I ever move on from him? I dreamt of his eyes and his smile almost every night because a part of me missed Damon Salvatore.
"Elena? It's time to get up. We have to meet with the Elders," Elijah's voice hummed, while shaking me in his arms.
I groaned as he got up from the bed first, Elijah gently resting me back down on the mattress as he left. Then I opened my eyes slightly, seeing as he threw on his clothes from the night before. His face never changed in expression when he was around me. Maybe he empathized with me or maybe he felt the guilt.
"Elijah?" I asked quietly.
"Mmmh?" He mumbled looking at me as he buttoned his shirt.
"Why are we going to see the Elders?" I whispered, and finally I sat up in the bed.
"The Prophet demanded we be there." His voice was stern, and as if annoyed by my words,he jammed his shirt inside his pants.
"Are you happy with this arrangement, Elijah?" I shakily questioned as I bent over to pick my dress off the floor.
"I'll be down stairs when you're ready. Five minutes. No more," He shot whilst exiting the room with his belt in hand.
I threw on my mint green dress, staring into the mirror. I felt dirty, impure as I trailed my fingers across my collar bone. No amount of soap could cleanse me of dirtied flesh. I tried not to not to think about it, and soon I finished, walking down stairs. Elijah held his hand out toward me, I took it as we walked down the stone path of the front lawn, my face drooping. It didn't take long anyway, the main building staring at me as we finally approached it.
We entered swiftly, Elijah pulling me along like a dog on a leash. The Prophet waited in his overstuffed chair, along with the other old men that ran this prison. They stared at me as my eyes widened in surprise at the vastness of this little charade. I was genuinely afraid of this place and these people. My stomach sloshed this way and that as I imagined each of their thoughts.
"Elijah! My dear boy. Come join us," The prophet exclaimed as he directed us over.
He pulled me toward the group, but I stubbornly yanked back, my feet refusing to move. My heart was racing, and I was fighting him like an anchor fights the sailing of a boat.
"I can't," I whimpered as the men continued to glare at me.
"Elena. Not now. Please...not now," Elijah snapped, almost pleading with me.
He was just as afraid as I was, and I could see it in his face. His hands continued to pull me forward, and I finally gave in, allowing myself to follow him as he sat down in the group with me.
"This is the infamous, Elena. She's the one I told all of you about. Elijah is her new husband and we are hoping this is a better match," Mr. Barlow spat.
I gripped Elijah's hand tighter. The men exchanged endless whispers to each other, but I could never seem to make out any of their words.
"Did you consumate the marriage?" The Prophet's voice silenced the room.
"Yes," Elijah said with a poor attempt at confidence.
The conversation was a fragment of English here and there. No one dared to move, not even the other Elders.
"Did she resist?"
"No." There was so much more confidence in this answer, and for a moment I allowed myself to breathe.
"Have you had to beat or slap her?"
"No," He responded plainly this time, staring at the floor.
"There's something wrong with that statement, Elijah. This is the same girl who it took month after month of rape before she finally submitted herself to her husband. This is the girl who ran away and convinced one of our best men to follow. Somehow I doubt she has suddenly changed," The Prophet laughed, and the other men joined him.
"She has done nothing to disrespect me. She has been very good," Elijah muttered, barely being heard above their laughter.
"Prove it," He hissed.
"Excuse me, sir?" Elijah's grip on my hand tightened, his face frozen in horror.
"Stand up and show us that she will do whatever you ask." The man's grin widened when he saw my fear.
Elijah hesitantly took my wrist, guiding me to the middle of the room filled with the old men that seemed amused by it all. I had never seen my new husband so fearful, so weak. He stopped us halfway across the room, right in front of the Prophet's seat.
"Ask her questions about the church and if she gets them wrong, show me how you would discipline her," The Prophet hissed as he adjusted himself in his chair, the room silent as I imagine death.
"How many Prophets has this community had?" Elijah's voice shook.
I had no idea what the answer was. I didn't remember learning that, and I was trembling as I tried to think, everyone's eyes on me, all awaiting an answer.
"Six?" I responded, my voice trembling.
The room filled with laughter, the Prophet chuckling to himself. I felt my head snap to one side, my cheek burning. Elijah had slapped me.
"What is the Prophet's last name?"
Once again, I cringed. I didn't know the answer. My brain was paralyzed in fear. Mosiah...Mosiah what? What the heck was it?
"I don't know," I whimpered.
I felt him slap me again, and this time I allowed myself to cry out.
"When was this place founded?" He grabbed me roughly by the arm, thrusting his face into mine.
"I-I don't know," I stuttered nervously.
"Don't act stupid. Kneel," He growled at me, his cheeks red and face stern.
He pushed my shoulders down, forcing me to my knees as I began crying.
"Apologize" He commanded.
"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered through the burning of my cheek.
"You better try a little harder or you're going to regret it." He grabbed the collar of my dress, breaking my sob.
I desperately clung to his leg, praying that he wouldn't hurt me. I knew Elijah was only doing what the Prophet wanted, and I could see he hated it, just as Damon had. I suppose an epiphany hit me in that moment. I understood Damon's fears, more than I ever had.
"Please forgive me, Elijah. I'll do whatever you want. You own me. I'm yours," I shrieked.
The Prophet smiled as Elijah stood there unsure of what to do next.
"You heard her. You own her," The Prophet barked as one of the men handed Elijah a knife.
He was trembling violently as he took the object from the man. His face was pale as a ghost, and he looked as if he would throw up right there. For a moment, I thought I would too.
"Prove she's yours, Elijah. Mark her. Prove you own her," Mr. Barlow snapped.
Elijah stood there, his hands shaking as he looked at me briefly. I nodded my head slightly, letting him know that he could. He had no choice, and I didn't want to make it any harder for him. I could only imagine if I were in his position.
He kneeled down next to me, grabbing my collar roughly again and pushing me onto my stomach. I let out a small cry as he pinned the side of my face to the floor with one hand, pulling the hem of my dress up with the other. I was screaming as he pulled the underwear down my legs, everyone gasping as I lay half naked on the floor.
Even as I squirmed, he held me tightly against the tiled floor. The blade of the knife trailed my flesh, blood gushing from the newly formed cuts. He was prompt in his carving, frantic to be done.
"Good job Elijah. You're better than I thought!" The Prophet cackled cruelly.
I continued to shriek as he slid the knife across my butt cheek to form the letter 'E'. I was gripping the floor tiles as the men all stared in amusement.
"Now that we know who she belongs to, I want to see it," The Prophet coughed, but Elijah's eyes just brimmed with tears.
Reluctantly, he grabbed my collar again, pulling at it until I stood up beside him, my head bowed in humiliation. His hands pulled me so that I faced him, until I could see his pained eyes. Those lips formed the words 'I'm sorry' as he unbuttoned my dress.
Elijah allowed the dress to fall from my body, and I stood there completely naked in front of everyone. I tried to hide my face, but it didn't help as the Prophet smirked at me.
"You can tell she loves this. She looks forward to this. She's horny, boys!" The leader hummed above my horrid wails.
"Shut that bitch up," The Prophet shouted.
I felt Elijah slap my ass, right where he had carved his initials into. I choked back another scream as the pain seared through my body.
"Well that was fun, wasn't it Elena?" The Prophet asked as he smiled at me.
"Yes, master" I whimpered.
"We can do it again sometime. Maybe even just one-on-one," He let out a small chuckle, wiping his forehead with his napkin. His brown hair was messy, his blue eyes glaring.
"Thank you for your charity," I trembled.
"Thank you," Elijah confirmed confidently as he reached the door with me, his face beet red.
Outside, he allowed me to put my dress back on, helping me to secure the buttons when my trembling fingers failed to. We walked home in silence as I stumbled along the side of the road. Elijah refused to look at me, his palms were sweaty and his eyes glossy.
"If you never forgive me, I understand. I will never forgive myself," He whispered as we finally made it to the front porch where he allowed me break down and cry.
Damon's POV
They didn't force me to beat any women since that night. I still secretly recorded them hurting those women, but I stood back, allowing them to do it all. Being forced to watch as these young girls begged and pleaded was agonizing. I saw their fear, their blood, their innocence. All those men were too preoccupied to notice the small camera in my pocket as I recorded their inhumanity. They were like wild animals as they cheered each other on, Kol the leader of the sick cult.
I tried to imagine what the cops would say once they finally saw those tapes. If that wasn't proof enough, then I didn't know what was. It was just so unfortunate that the bus only passed once a month. It would be another three weeks until Alaric could get to the cops with the evidence. It was painful to wait that long, knowing that Elena was still in that hell. She couldn't have her baby there, not in that place.
"You never told me why you took on this mission for the FBI," I said to Alaric as he sipped his drink.
"It's a long story," He mumbled, nearly chugging the golden liquid.
"I have time," I snapped.
He paused at first, but began talking moments later, looking at his glass, the bourbon splashing against the sides of his drink.
"I used to be married many years ago to a woman named Isobel. She was the love of my life, but she had some dark secrets that I didn't know about until it was too late." He took another sip before looking at me briefly.
"She grew up here, in this place. She was assigned to be married to her first cousin when she turned fifteen, and she begged them not to make her, but they ignored her. She ran away on her wedding night and started a new life. A family took her in and raised her until she was eighteen. That's when I met her. We were married two months later, and we were so happy. We had planned on having a family and a dog and a big house out on a lake, but then they found her," He suddenly paused as he gripped his glass roughly.
"Did they kill her?" I asked quietly as I adjusted myself in my seat.
"They beat her to death. The cops didn't believe me, and I had no proof. I filed a missing persons report, but that was all I could do, they told me. I was so determined to avenge her death, and I knew this place had to be annihilated, even if it were solely to serve justice to all the others who had ever suffered in this place-," He nearly whimpered.
He was trying so hard to hold the tears back as he took another swig of his alcohol.
"Justice will be served," I whispered loudly and for a second, I saw him smile.