Damon's POV
When do we finally give in and just say 'hell with it'? When am I supposed to realize that this will never end? I was expected to rape another innocent being. Had I not raped everything good in Elena's life? I was just going to repeat it all with this other girl. I had to make a choice; Do it myself and live with that forever or let the Prophet do it and stand helplessly off to the side. Why? That's the one question I would ask God if I met him face to face.
"You know, this is our wedding night, actually! I'm willing to share her. I'm not lacking in that department," The man laughed, staring me up and down.
I did not answer him, turning my face to the floor, trying to hold back my emotion. I still could not fathom what was about to take place. It truly felt like a nightmare, and I wanted to run so badly, but for Elena's sake, I stayed.
"Genevieve! Come meet Damon, sweetheart!" He cooed to her as she sobbed over in the corner.
The girl obeyed instantaneously, taking short strides toward me, her hands hiding her face as she cried loudly. She could not have been more than fourteen years old. I shivered at the thought of how just days ago, she was a child. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a long braid that reached down to her hips and her bright green orbs barely peeked through her fingers that she used to shield her face. She briefly glanced at me, her fear so apparent.
"So Damon, have you made your choice?" He hissed from his chair.
My other fear was getting this girl pregnant. I could not deal with that happening, especially with Elena and I planning our lives together. As much as I pitied this girl, I could not claim her for the sake of her not having to be raped by that other monster.
"I decline your generous offer," I almost growled, holding back my urge to spit in his face.
"Then I guess you can be the one to hold her down. How does that sound superman?" The Prophet laughed, the sarcasm billowing from him.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a faint whisper, my fists clenched.
"I do not owe you an explanation. You should be thankful I gave you a choice, . Do what I ask or Elena will be next, got it?" He roared, slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair.
"Yes, sir," I replied, bowing my head in defeat.
Just the thought of Elena was enough to make me drop to my knees. I had to do this for her; for our baby. It took every ounce of energy I had left to comply. I wanted to grab a knife and stab that man until he was dead, but the guards watched me, not to mention that awful two way mirror.
"Genevieve, you're going to be a good girl, right?" The Prophet smirked as she trembled next to me.
"Y-yes," She let out a long sob, her voice shaking violently.
"You're doing the Lord's work, Gen," He insisted, stepping towards her.
She backed away, her panicked screams growing as his hands finally reached out to grab the collar of her dress. Her shrieks pierced through me and I winced, scared for her.
"Damon, undress her and lay her on the bed. Prove where your loyalties lie," The Prophet coughed.
A sixty years old man was about to rape a fourteen year old girl? Damn it. I hesitated, stumbling toward the girl, her face stained with red streaks left by her tears. She was pleading and begging me as I reached out for her dress
"Please don't. I'm scared. I'm a child, please," She begged, her hands grabbing at my shirt.
I tried to turn off my emotions. I tried not to get emotionally attached to her. I had to do what I had to do for Elena, but I couldn't allow this.
I squatted in front of the trembling girl, holding her arms.
"Shhh...I'm going to get you out of here," I whispered, "I'm not going to let him hurt you."
A plan began to formulate inside my head, and I prepared to redeem myself once and for all. The kitchen knife was still tucked away inside my jacket. I could end this.
"Stay here. Don't tell him where I am," I said softly, throwing myself under the bed.
I watched from where I laid underneath the mattresses, the Prophet just stepping inside the room once again. His robe matched his narcissistic personality, golds and blues and illusion. He searched the room in frustration.
"Where did that traitor go, Genevieve?" He hissed, storming toward her.
She screamed in panic, her body being slammed onto the bed by the man. He pinned her without mercy, swearing at my absence. The girl sobbed and begged and pleaded above me, and my heart would break with every cry. When I was sure he was on the mattress with her, I scrambled out from my hiding place, knife in hand.
The adrenaline pumped feverishly throughout me, and I plunged that knife into the left-side of his back. I felt how harshly the weapon impaled his ribs, the crunch, the blood, the warmth. I could feel it splattered across my cheeks. My arms scooped Genevieve out from under the devil before his body crashed forward in defeat. Red seeped onto the sheets, but I had no time to stay and watch.
With one last mighty breath, I snatched Genevieve's hand and we bolted for the door without any hesitancy. The air whipped through my locks and every step was more invigorating than the one before it. Behind me, the girl stumbled again and again, still shaken and traumatized, I supposed. We descended the staircase without pausing, my thighs burning relentlessly.
In the foyer, I saw the door just ahead, but something had stopped me. It stopped us both. Warmth pooled down my shirt, and I glanced down. Blood. The world spun, my legs tripping over each other in a desperate attempt to remain standing. Genevieve cried out as she tumbled to the wood flooring, cracking her skull against it. It all played out in slow motion. Voices became background noise as I waited for the world to end, and it did.
Elena's POV
How the days had passed by. I no longer felt sad there. I trusted Damon so much. I knew whatever he had planned would work. Even Elijah had noticed my sudden happiness.
"Elena, did you fold my laundry?" He asked as he stepped into the living room.
"Not yet," I smiled, folding the towels.
He grabbed my shoulder, his face rather serious.
"I know I gave you excuses when you first arrived, but now I expect a little more here Elena."
He spoke softly, looking deep into my eyes.
"I-I'm sorry," I tried to say, pulling a towel into my lap.
"I asked you to fold it days ago. I expect respect. When I ask you to do something, I expect it to be done. I have been patient with you," He continued, crossing his arms across his chest.
"I'm sorry. I should have done it sooner." I looked at the towel in my lap, too afraid to glance at his face.
"Fold it now. The towels can wait."
He readjusted his feet, reaching out his hand to me. I took it, and he led me to the laundry area where his clothes sat in a pile on the machine. I let go of his grip, walking myself to the mountain so that I could begin to fold each piece. I heard him walk up behind me, his hands resting on giant belly. They stroked the bulge, and I let out a fake giggle to please him. His nose tickled my neck, his lips pressing against my throat. I continued to fold as he caressed my body, but his touch hurt me in the deepest way possible.
"Are you happy here, Elena?" He whispered into my ear.
I was unsure how to answer at first, nervous to lie, but also unsure if maybe I actually was happy and couldn't see it yet. It was nice not to be raped or abused. It was nice to around Jenna and Hope. It was nice to be appreciated. What if Damon's plan failed? I had to consider that. Would I find happiness in this life? Maybe.
"Very," I mumbled.
"I couldn't be happier to hear that. Our baby will be greatly loved here. All our children will have beautiful lives," He added, his lips moving back down to my neck.
"I know," I said a little too loudly, probably because it was a really bad lie.
I couldn't let my kids stay here. I could bear this life, but I would not permit my own children to suffer through it too. I just prayed Damon would hurry. With every day, we were one day closer to having this baby and I couldn't stand the thought of giving birth at that doctorless clinic. I needed Damon...more than ever.
Damon's POV
I tried to block most of it out, and I did. All I remember is the feeling of her muscles relax once she grew too tired to fight any longer. I remember the way her eyes fell shut, trying to escape her nightmare. What gave her the strength to let go? When had she finally decided to give up? The blood that had leaked from on her clung to the fabric of her dress, my mind remembering her last scream as the bullet exploded inside her body, tearing through her in an instant.
I was the one who tried to stop the bleeding as she lay limp in my arms. The men ripped me from her in an instant. My shoulder was throbbing from my own wound, but in that moment, I needed to save Genevieve. They carried her down the hall, but I snatched her dress, yanking her toward me just long enough for me to tell her something.
"I'm sorry." It was the last thing I said to Genevieve, and I meant it wholeheartedly.