I bundle myself up into a ball on one of the Salvatore's couches and begin to think, a war goes on in my head struggling to come up with the right thing to do, either way she could die. I cast a glance over at Harriet on the couch at the other side of the room. Elena is still leaning over her and stroking her hair. She has a calm motherly expression on her face, I like her, and she looks like she cares for Harriet even though she doesn't know her. It's like someone has taken Katharine and filled her with good – I can see why Stefan obviously loves her, she's so filled with hope. Stefan is on the other side of the room, his head is buried deep into some thick medical book, concentration masks his brow as he scans pages for something that might help. I don't feel like I deserve their help.
Harriet's still breathing and I think god every time she sucks in another shallow breath. It hurts me too look at her as the ugly red tracks of my bite mark are still visible on her neck. This is all my fault.
I imagine each possibility – I imagine me giving her my blood and her wounds healing, her eyes fluttering open, I imagine her not remembering who she is and what she loves. I imagine the old Harriet gone. I start to imagine myself just leaving her on the couch and waiting, waiting for weeks for her to wake up. Each second is torture. I imagine her never waking up and life just slipping from her in the middle of the night. I don't know how much more of this imagining I can take. Elena has stopped leaning over Harriet and is now looking at me, I beacon her over with my finger. "If you were Harriet what would you want me to do?" I question, desperate that this girl will provide me with an answer. "I can't tell you that Theo, I'm not her." she whispers back. This is not the answer I wanted.
"Just imagine that I was Stefan and you were her, what would you want me to do… give you blood and risk you mental injury or wait not knowing if you could just slip off in the night." Elena paused deep in thought. My brain continued to battle it out. It felt like hours had past before Elena finally gave me and answer. "I would want you to try and give me the blood, I would want to know that you did everything you possibly could to try and save me." She seemed so sure. I glanced up at Stefan, he was nodding. "I'll do it." I whispered, the words stinging my own ears.
We mad a small crowd around Harriet. Elena held her hand and Stefan sat at the end of the couch nervously watching over her. I could feel my phantom heart beat again as I pressed my wrist to my mouth and tore off a small chunk of flesh. It felt like time was going in slow motion as I pressed the wound to her lips. My blood dripped down her throat, and all I could think about was the unbearable silence that was circulating around the room. Please don't die.
Harriet didn't move. My wound healed over and I looked up at Elena, tears were welding up in her eyes. I cast my eyes back down to Harriet; her face was cold like ice. Then a miracle. She opened her eyes.