A/N: If you notice any mistakes here and there, like seeing the names "Casey" or "Karly", It's because this entire thing is actually a short story that I handed in for English class (and got an A on, yay me). So sorry if I miss a few mistakes! Tell me if you spot any and I'll change them immediately. :)

Love you!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. All rights belong to L.J. Smith and the CW.

xxxxx

Chapter 3:

Damon knows he's crossed a line as soon as the sentence escapes his mouth. Elena's gaze hardens as she stares into her bowl, a vein protruding just beneath the skin where her head remains scabbed. She doesn't look up at Damon, nor does she speak a word, and they end up finishing their food in complete reticence, with tension so thick in the air that it's nearly tangible. It frustrates Damon, actually. He can't help Elena if she won't open up, and enough has happened for him to have the right to wonder if there really is a bigger picture behind how Elena had ended up in his family's cottage. They've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, but it feels so much longer.

Feeling like he doesn't know how to act, Damon stands abruptly with his bowl in his hand and clears his throat. "I'll go take the bowls back to the kitchen and wash them, then," he announces. Elena still doesn't respond. She simply holds out her empty dish and waits for it to be grabbed.

A sigh escapes him. This could be one hell of a night.

Elena, on the other hand, is having an internal battle. She wants to tell Damon about her life, she really does. But what good would it do to drag somebody else into the mess? It's bad enough that she's had to deal with it for so long but placing another person in the crossfire? Not her style, no matter how selfish she wants to be.

Frustrated, she slams her head into the pillow on her bed. The material is scratchy, and smells like beer. She grimaces.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. Elena straightens. Has she upset Damon enough to make him feel unwelcome?

She slips off the bed and pads to the door, hand reaching for the doorknob. She realizes her mistake just as the door swings open, because instead of looking into blue eyes, she's peering into a bright shade of green.

Stefan stands in the threshold. His hands are clasped behind his back as if to show class and respect, and it makes Elena want to scoff in his face.

"What do you want?" she demands. She's not taking any of his shit this time.

A deep chuckle rumbles in Stefan's chest as he shakes his head slowly, one hand lifting to scratch his stubbled chin. "I came to apologize," he says earnestly. "I realize I may have caught you off guard with my sudden appearance back at the store."

"Off guard?" she repeats incredulously. "The reason I'm out here in the first place is to get away from my old shitty life and the first thing I managed to see is a reminder of it. 'Caught you off guard' is an understatement."

"'Lena, listen, it was pure coincidence I was there at the same time, I promise—"

"Don't call me that." She moves to shut the door.

"Hey, Elena?"

Her eyes dart over Stefan's shoulder. Damon's standing a few feet away. He looks perplexed, brow scrunching as his gaze shifts between her and Stefan. Stefan apparently takes this as an opportunity to prove his lack of class, and shakes his head in disapproval.

"You again," Damon speaks. His tone has changed, to cold and unwelcoming. Elena guesses he's recognized Stefan from back at the gas station, as the man (or one of them) that she wants nothing to do with.

"Yeah, hi," Stefan replies. He's smiling, but it's not warm at all. It's saying don't mess with me.

"What are you doing here?" Damon asks him. He crosses the distance between himself and Elena, gently leaning into her space as a show of protection.

"Nothing bad. Just came to apologize."

"Ah, so you're taking my advice then?"

What?

Elena snaps her head to one side, her eyebrows cast downwards in befuddlement. What advice? What exactly had Damon told him?

"Well, I mean—"

"Doesn't matter," Elena interrupts. She casts a side glance at Damon before she plasters a fake smile on her face and looks back to Stefan. "I don't want your apology and I don't want to see you. Have a horrible day," she says with enthusiasm, and shuts the door before the guy can even react. She hopes it hits him in the nose.

"What was that about?" Damon says to her, observing as she pulls the chain lock across and walks back to her original spot, seated on the bed.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," is what he gets as an answer. No hesitation. "He's a dick, and I'm not about to let him apologize just because you think a three-second conversation with him means you know him. Forget it."

"You could try giving him a chance?" Damon suggests. "He doesn't seem all that bad once you really—"

"What?" Elena demands. Her eyes burn fiercely, slicing daggers right through Damon's heart. "Once you really what? Get to know him? Talk it out? Have a decent conversation?" She scoffs in disgust. "There is nothing I'd like more than to see him fall off the face of the Earth and disappear for good."

"Really, though?"

"Listen," she commands. She's practically breathing fire. "You don't know jack shit about my life. I am thankful for everything you've done for me and I am thankful for your understanding of what little information I've given you, but do not, at any point, think you can tell me how to handle my life. My past is my past and that's that. Period. The end."

"Yes, I understand," Damon explains. He swiftly moves toward Elena and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching to place a hand on her knee, but it is slapped away.

"You don't," Elena argues. "You don't understand. And you never will."

There are tears in her eyes and she chokes them back. Her mind is screaming at her, yelling with all its might to let Damon in and tell him everything. But she's learnt to build walls, she's learnt to withhold her deepest secrets. Because when secrets get out, they can cause damage. And that's the last thing Elena wants. She's tired of damage. She's tired of hiding. She's just...tired.

"I think I'll...get some sleep now," she murmurs. Damon doesn't say a word. He simply stands and pads softly to a corner in the room where a plastic bag sits leaned against the wall. Elena's surprised when he returns with a packaged toothbrush and some toothpaste.

"Here," he mumbles, holding them out to grab.

"When did we get these?" Elena wonders.

"I had them with me, in an overnight bag in my car. Never used."

"Oh...alright." She takes the objects in her hands. "Thank you."

"No problem."

The bathroom is small, but it works. Elena is pleased to find the shower isn't as gross as she'd expected, and there are even tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner, along with body wash standing against the wall. There's a faint scent of some kind of cleaning product in the air, which to be honest, is much better than any other smell. She stands in front of the mirror that hangs above the sink, her eyes appearing dull and lifeless in the awful fluorescent lighting. The scabs on the side of her head have gotten to the itchy stage of healing, but she doesn't have the energy to pick at them. Instead, she brushes her teeth hastily and washes her face with cold water before she heads to bed, where she spots Damon already tucked in, fast asleep.

xxxxx

At an unknown hour in the night, there's a sharp knock at the door. Elena is instantly awake, and she sits upright in bed. It takes her eyes a minute or two to adjust in the dark, but eventually she can make out the shape of her bed and the path to the door without tripping on anything. After carefully sliding open the lock, she opens the door and peers out. Nothing but silence greets her on the other side. She is baffled by this, and becomes convinced she's starting to hear things, but her foot steps on something that isn't carpet and when she looks down, she sees what resembles a card, or a letter, with her own name scrawled on the front. In her hands it feels smooth, and the writing is crisp and clean. Elena wonders where the hell it came. Why it's here.

The door is quickly shut and locked. She glances at Damon lying in his bed, still asleep. Good, Elena thinks. Her feet carry her to the bathroom where she flicks on the light and sits down on the toilet seat. Her breath comes out shakily and her hands can't seem to stop trembling, but she eventually musters up enough control to open the damn thing and scan the words, her face paling gradually with each passing second. It reads:

My dearest wife Elena,

Darling, you should know better than to foolishly attempt to trick me. I was always better at the mind games, remember?
Now, I've recently received word that you're in company of another man, who appears to be helping you in your...situation. Well, I hate to tell you this, but he is of no aid to you. You are to rid of him immediately, or I will be forced to take action myself, and you know how much I hate getting my hands dirty.

Here's my deal: you can stay with this man, and wait for inevitable consequence, or, you can end it all now.
I will be waiting for you outside of that filthy motel you're staying at. Be ready to come home at eight a.m. sharp.

You can't get rid of me this easily, baby. I'll see you soon. All the love,

Your husband, Mason

Ex-husband, Elena corrects bitterly to herself. She crumples the letter in her hands and chucks it at the empty garbage bin beside the toilet. How dare he think he can harass her this way? Christ, it's times like these when she really wonders how she'd ended up marrying him in the first place.

It's because she'd been naïve, really. When she'd noticed the signs of their marriage going south just barely a year into the bind, she'd thought she was overthinking things—that he'd never stoop low enough as to physically hurt her. Well, she'd been sorely wrong. It started with words here and there, a comment on how she looked or how she held herself in the public eye. It later advanced to unwanted contact, and finally as the cherry on top of it all, harsh hits to the face. Elena can remember the days she'd hide in the bathroom all morning, desperately trying to cover the bruises with what little makeup she was allowed to have. That factor in itself had never really bothered her, in fact she hates wearing makeup. But at the time it frustrated her to no end, because wearing that crap all day was much better than facing the embarrassment of being weak enough to stay in such a public relationship gone wrong.

The memories are overwhelming. Elena stands abruptly and digs her fingernails into her scalp, willing the pictures of her past to disappear and vanish from her life. She wants to forget, she wants to move on and be stronger than this. But she can't. Something's blocking her and it won't get out of the way.

Her reflection in the mirror is horrendous. She cringes at the tear streaks tainting her skin and the way it makes her look like a swollen fish. Once again, it reminds her of everything she's running away from. And it hurts. It hurts. The years of abuse had been painful, and the accident caused to fake her death had also been painful, yes, but she'd never thought this would hurt so much more. Being stuck in the mud, being trapped in a maze—it's making her head spin and she can barely think straight anymore. Plus Damon—Damon is merely trying to help. He's been nothing but kind to Elena this entire time and they met, what, just under a day ago? It's not fair. It's unfair to the both of them and all Elena wants—needs—right now, is some peace. Some closure. A new life where she can find someone who will love her the way she truly deserves.

By the time she's able to breathe properly again, her mind is made up. She's sick of this game and it's only begun. The best way to keep it from going further is to stop it right in its tracks. So she'll meet Mason. Tomorrow, in the morning, before Damon wakes up. She needs to do this for herself.

With a splash of cold water over her face, Elena exits the bathroom silently and lays back down in bed. Just a few more hours, a few more hours until she can put this to an end.

She falls asleep with tears in her eyes.

xxxxx

A/N: I apologize if you think the chapters are short. :) Like I mentioned before, this is a short story. The entire thing is only about twelve thousand words in total, so the chapters will be short in order to "drag" this out a bit more. Ya know, keep the suspense. xD

Hope you liked! xx