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Damon finally made it home around 7 PM. His mother was frantic. All he wanted was to just take a bath and crawl into bed. As soon as she saw him, his face swollen and covered with blood and dirt, his shirt ripped and equally dirty, she just gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. She took him in her arms, crying, "What happened? Who did this to you?"
Damon refused to tell her, finally just refusing to answer her questions at all. He burst into tears though when his mom mentioned Jen's name.
His mother was furious. She knew that somehow that girl had caused this damage to her son. She threatened to call the police, but Damon freaked out at that. She wanted to talk to the girl. Damon would not give her phone number. She looked her up in the school directory, and upon finding her address, she stormed over there, dragging a protesting and crying Damon with her. He could not face her, but he was not about to leave his mom alone with her.
Some girl (wasn't her name Bonnie. Damon wondered) answered the door, staring at him. She said Elena was in the pool. Now? He wondered.
She led them out to the backyard. There were two more people there, and there was a person in the pool with her. He saw them coming and stared at them, while she was still underwater. Damon stared at her white silhouette as she raced underwater, diving for something apparently. The pool was lit. The person called her name right as she came up, gasping for air and laughing as she threw a penny at the person. He said something to her and she turned to look at them, both standing by the pool on the wet concrete.
Her smile faded as she stared at Damon. He could not meet her gaze. He was petrified besides, of what was going to come of this. Was Stefan really going to kill him? He hated him that is for sure. She slowly came to the pool's edge, her eyes glued on Damon. She climbed out of the pool, her hip dragging along the concrete edge, sliding one side of her bikini bottom down. Damon felt ashamed as he stared at her, at her body. It was so perfect. He flushed in the cool night air as his dick stiffened up a little. She just kept staring at him, walking toward him. She stood in front of him, and her hand went to her mouth the same way his mom's hand had. Her eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled up as she looked at him.
Damon's face was completely swollen. His eyes were nearly swelled shut, both a dark purple colour. Dried blood trickled from his nose, his left eyebrow, one ear, his mouth, and one eye. The blood vessels in that eye had been damaged so much the white of the eye was a crimson colour. His neck was bruised and the rest of him was covered with blood as well.
His head ached. His lips felt huge, swollen, and clumsy.
His mother was taken aback by the girl's reaction to her son's appearance. She had thought that she had something to do with it but now realized she had not. Damon just looked down; he could not meet her pitying look anymore. He stared at her breasts, remembering when he had kissed them and...
" Stefan did this to you?" she whispered, one wet hand reaching for Damon's shoulder. Damon said nothing, his mind spinning from her touch. She asked again, but was not really asking, "Did Stefan do this to you?" Somehow, they all went inside. She got into a terry cloth robe. She kept crying and finally sobbed repeatedly about how it was all her fault.
"No, it's not," Damon, insisted.
His mom got angry then. "Did you have him do this to my son? How could you do this?" she screamed. That person who had been in the pool with her (Damon did not know him but had hated him instantly) got mad at his mom, defending her. "Don't accuse her of that! She didn't do anything."
" Well, it seems to me she did plenty!" his mom shot back.
"Oh yeah well, maybe if he'd kept his mouth shut Stefan never would've hear about it in the first place." "Does that make it okay?" she demanded. "No, but he still would've been a lot better off if hadn't gone bragging to everyone about what they did!" he pointed out.
Still dripping wet, Elena led Damon out of the kitchen and into her room. She did not want to hear any more of this; she just needed to be away from all of it. She felt so bad for him. It was her fault. His mom did not even notice they had left, not facing them. "Well, how do you know she didn't tell the guy?" she asked.
"Oh, like she even talks to Stefan anymore!" "I'm going to call the police. First of all, she completely took advantage of him and he is a minor. Doesn't she know there are laws against that?"
" Oh yeah well so she. He is 15 right. And she is 17. Last I checked that makes him a rapist." His mom did not answer him. Instead, she noticed they were gone. "Where'd they go?" she demanded. "Leave them alone. They need to talk," said Bonnie.

She led him into her bathroom. He could not believe he was actually here with her. Was she still mad at him? Did she hate him? Stefan had said so. Maybe they had gotten back together...
Sitting him down on the toilet, she went to work on him. She cleaned his face with a warm face cloth, washing off the blood and dirt. He just stared at her, shaking from her touch. He could not think of anything to say at all, only winced when she started putting antiseptic on his cuts.
"It's going to hurt a little...," she said, dabbing his eyebrow with cotton as he winced in pain. She held his face in her hands, his eyes staring up at her. She felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him, then angered at herself for thinking it. All the while, she fought back more tears as she looked at his miserable appearance. She looked at him for a second, looked at his filthy t-shirt. She disappeared for a second while he looked around at her bathroom. It was very neat. She returned with a white t-shirt, clean and folded. She handed it to him with a shy smile, saying, "This is yours I think..." He recognized it as his white undershirt that he left at her house by accident that night. She was still looking at him. Did she pity him? She must think I am such a wimp, he though, At least not as tough as Stefan. That was obvious enough.
He realized that she was waiting for him to put it on. He was not ashamed of his body; he worked out and was much more developed than most other freshman. He peeled off his sweaty shirt, wincing from the pain as he lifted his arms above his head. He was going to put the shirt on but she told him to wait, getting another rag soapy and wet.
Bare-chested in front of her, he tried to look as hard and cut as possible. She rung the washcloth out and approached him.
Both realized the awkwardness of the situation as she bathed his upper body. They tried to get the memory of when she had done so much more for him out of their minds, especially Damon, who felt a familiar tingle in his groin from her touch on his bare chest. She would not look him in the eye. She cleaned off his elbow, which had been cut by some stick when he had been pinned to the ground. She touched it up with antiseptic, her soft hand on his shoulder. What was she going to do? He wondered. Just clean him up? Was she going to talk to him then? She peered in at several discolorations on his chest. She reached for a particularly large one and applied a little pressure, and sure enough, he flinched. She moved so she was no longer blocking the light and gasped. His entire upper body was covered with bruises that were just beginning to welt. She wondered if he had a few broken ribs-it certainly looked possible. "Oh, Damon," she whispered finally. "I'm so sorry..." She started to sob, wrapping her arms lightly around his shoulders so as not to hurt him. Stefan had beaten him so severely. She rubbed his back for a second but stopped immediately. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." she cried into his shoulders, still sitting on the edge of the bathtub. " I am such a bitch... I hate him... I fucking hate him... It is all my fault... I hate myself... I am such a bitch... I'm sorry..."
Half of him tried to hate her, wanting to push her away and tell her she was right. But the other half was leaping for joy, his heart racing, that she was in his arms, the girl he dreamt about night after night. It was not a contest between those two halves. "No, don't say that", he whispered into her ear. "Please don't say that. It is my fault, it is my fault. I was wrong, not you."
" Wrong?" she pulled away from him, her cheeks wet with tears.
"What did you do? You did not do anything. It was Stefan, not you."
He fought back tears, his heart nearly breaking with the guilt and self-loathing he had felt since earlier this evening when he had first heard the words. Rapist. "Well, you were drunk. And I should not have told everybody. You were drunk you know what that makes me. A fucking rapist. You can have me arrested you know. I would not blame you. I'm trash, scum," he muttered. "Oh, Damon," she snapped. "That's ridiculous. Why would you think you are a rapist? Did I protest?" she asked pointedly.
"No," he admitted, nearly laughing from the way she asked him and the memory of her dragging him onto her bed.
"Don't give me that alcohol bullshit. I knew what I was doing-you did not, I repeat, did not rape me". He thought about it. She leaned forward to look him in the eyes.
"Why would you think you raped me?" she asked him quietly, already
having an idea.
He did not say anything. He did not want to get Stefan into any more trouble with her than he was already in, ironically. He knew Stefan still wanted her back. Unless he already had her back... He remembered their threats. "Damon, tell me what happened. I need to know", she implored.
"Nah. It's not important and I don't really want to talk about it," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Well, it's important to me", she said. "I know it was Stefan-who else was there too?"
" I don't know!"
" Where did it happen?"
" School," he muttered.
"What happened? Please tell me," she begged. "Damon, please, I really need to know."
Damon gave in. He sighed exasperatingly, "God, okay. He just said that I was a little punk and a rapist- 'cause you were drunk you know-and that I was dead and stuff." He paused, not wanting to say, not wanting to even think about what else he had said, about how she would never love-nor like-him. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind they were too painful. Another painful thought came into his mind, but he could not make it leave.
"What else?" she demanded. "Tell me everything." "You guys back together?" he asked quietly. Please say no please say no please say...
"NO!" she cried. "Of course not. I am never getting back together with that fucking jerk. Fuck him." "Oh" he said, relieved. "Well, anyway, he kept referring to you as his girlfriend. He said it at least twice, I think three times but I don't remember." "Oh really?" she snapped, her eyes angry. "Well he's just wrong. He is fucking crazy. What a dick!" she said. "Oh my God! I can't believe this." She got up and began pacing. "I have told him a million times that we're through. A fucking million. Well is not this just fine and dandy. I don't believe this shit."
She started rattling off all the times she had told him to leave her alone and how he had seemed to get it but maybe he was just some psycho. Damon was not really listening; he was guilty of looking at her body instead, still in the wet bikini covered by an unfastened robe. He wondered where his mom was. He stared at her breasts. Her nipples were hard under the wet material. He wondered if he could just take her now, right on the rug...
He sort of snapped out of it when she walked into her room and returned with a photo in one of those cardboard frames you get from the photographer. She sat back down on the bathtub and leaned over his thighs, holding out the photo so they could both see it.
It was a large group photo from a Homecoming or a prom. He recognized her, in Stefan's arms, clad in a tight black dress. Oh, Homecoming, he thought, as he saw the gold embossed letters on the bottom. This year's Homecoming at Stefan's school.
"Did he come with him? Did he hit you too?" she asked, pointing out one person. Damon looked closely. He was pretty sure that was one of the people. He did not say anything, but looked at the other people. God she has a lot of friends, he thought. There were at least six couples there. He recognized the other person. "Did he? Don't be scared to tell", she soothed. "I'm not scared," he said, annoyed. I am not a wimp, he thought angrily. Of course, he did not blame her for thinking so under the circumstances.
"Come on," she begged. "Tell me".
"Yeah," he admitted, pointing. She could get anything from him, he thought, he could never say no to her. "It was that guy and that guy..."
"Shit. I knew it." She snapped the picture closed and got up and tossed it onto the bed. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom and looked at him. "They're going to pay for what they did to you I hope you know. Stefan is going to pay, the fucking asshole," she said decidedly.
"No, don't worry about it. I mean, they're going to kill me I swear," he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact and not quaking in his boots.
"No, they will not!" she insisted, walking over to him. He was eye-level with her breasts and they grabbed his attention. She kneeled on the rug between his knees. Oh my God, he thought for a second. Is she going to do it? Is she going to suck my dick? Suck it suck it his mind screamed.
He soon felt ashamed of his one-track mind, of his dirty thoughts, when she handed him his shirt from off the floor and continued talking.
"I promise they won't hurt you. I bet you Damon, Stefan will be apologizing to you before too long, you'll see!" she smiled up at him.
"I wouldn't count on it," he said uneasily. He put his shirt on, trying to flex his muscles at the same time.
"You didn't deserve this at all Damon." He just shrugged.
"You didn't! I am telling you, you did not! Say you didn't deserve it," she instructed, giving him a small smile.
"I didn't deserve it", he obeyed.
She smiled. "You know, maybe you should go to the hospital. You know, to get x-rayed. You could have a cracked rib or something."
" Nah, I'm okay", he declined, macho, staring down at the girl between his legs, her hands on his thighs, and hoping she would not look down and see the effect she was having on him. He gratefully pulled his shirt down. "Sure?" she asked. The concern showed on her face. His heart poured with love for her. His eyes locked with hers. Kiss kisses... he thought.
"Well, I hope you are right," she said, interrupting his thoughts. She smiled at him, in a motherly sort of way, he thought. Fuck.
She stood up, and got a large Band-Aid out of a drawer to put over the cut on his elbow. There was a knock on her bedroom door when she started peeling off the little adhesives. She said loudly, "Come in..." Oh God, he thought as he saw her, my mom. He'd had prayed she had magically disappeared.
His mom walked in and looked at them, in the corner of the bathroom. Her son and his first lover, who was now bandaging him up. She was doing the job she, his mom, should have done, instead of dragging him out to get answers, she thought guiltily. Damon did look much better, she had to admit.
"Hello," his mom said, not in an unfriendly manner. "Hi," she said in a small voice. Then in a more confident one to Damon, "You look 100% better." "Thank you..." his mom said.
" No problem," she said, smiling down at Damon. "Um, Damon, we should probably go now. Are you ready?" "Yeah, I'll be out in a second", he said, giving his mom a pointed look. Please leave please he begged silently. His mom took the hint and left.
She threw away the trash from the most recent Band-Aid and then looked at him, unsure whether he wanted to talk to her or whether he had to go to the bathroom. He stared at her for a second, and then cleared his throat. He paused.
Finally, he opened his mouth and said, "Yeah, thanks." Not at all what he intended to say, but he just couldn't say it, no way could he tell her what he wanted to, what he was feeling inside. He desperately wanted to pull her to him and whisper in her ear, "I love you." She smiled at him, that gorgeous, fantastic smile of hers that he wished he could see every day for the rest of his life. She (gently of course) pulled him up and gave him the best bear hug she could manage without hurting him. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his lips pursed, and his eyes looking up at the ceiling while he fought back tears.
She pulled back, still smiling at him. She looked so beautiful, even with her hair pulled back in a wet ponytail and her eye makeup smudged.
"You know, you're going to kill me if I say this..." she said, jokingly but yet serious". But, well!" "What? Say what?" That you want me to fuck the hell out of you now? He thought wistfully.
"Don't get mad. Don't think I'm lame but..." she continued. "You know, we can be friends. I want to be friends. I know every person hates it: 'We can be friends!'" she said, imitating girls, in a high voice. She winced, pretending to prepare for him to get mad. She is so cute, he thought.
Damon groaned, joking too. "Not friends! Not the Ford!" he laughed.
Her face turned serious.
He smiled at her, the happiest he had been since that night, but his fragile male ego still ached. Of course we hate the friend word, he thought, it means we are compromising. We are giving up what we really want. "That doesn't sound too bad," he said.
She smiled. "Good! I mean it, you know Damon, if you need someone to talk to or anything, and you can always call me."
He smiled. "Okay," he said. "You can call me too." Once he said it, he wished it back, now what if she does not call. He thought. Fuck, he thought, realistically, I doubt she will call me.
But she just smiled. She gave him another hug, kissing him on the cheek. Remembering his soiled shirt, they left her room and went out, passing her living room where a few people were watching TV. God, he thought, on a weeknight. Her house is party-central. His mom was not in there; she was waiting in the car.
She said good-bye again, friendly. He punched her on the arm good naturedly, and she attempted to tousle his hair but he was too quick. She opened the door, and Damon left, with his own bye. She watched him climb into the car, and then closed the door.
Could he be any cuter? She thought to herself. Then she got angry.

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