This is a short one but I just got back in town and wanted to go ahead and make an update. This chapter is a little different. It is written in present tense because I wanted you to have the opportunity to be in Elena's head as she started to recover from her accident. I know that switching the tense isn't necessarily the best practice but, I figure if Faulkner can have a dead woman have a stream of consciousness chapter in As I Lay Dying, I could do this. NOT that I'm comparing myself to Faulkner by any stretch of the imagination! ;-) We're not going to be stuck in the dark phase forever but this is important to Elena's character. Thank you for your patience while I was unable to post. Here we go!

Chapter 15: The Mess You Left Behind

THEN:

I can't talk.

Actually, that's not exactly true since I can physically form words. The doctors discovered this by ordering a CT scan and an MRI to check my brain activity because I had not spoken. Now I answer what I must: pointless questions. What year is it? Who is the president? Can I tell them my name and birth date? All of it is meaningless drivel in a world where he is not. And he is not in my world. Of course he's not. Why did I ever believe I could harness someone who never wanted to be tamed?

My car was totaled. When I dodged the animal that had run across in front of me, I ran off the road and down an embankment causing the car to flip multiple times before landing on its roof. The paramedics had to cut me out. A seatbelt saved my life but the airbag broke my arm in multiple places. My head hit the steering wheel and the side window before the airbag even deployed. I have gashes all over my body from glass and metal. They say I'm lucky. I don't have the balls to ask if death could really be worse than continuing to live without your heart.

I was unconscious for a week. It's true that you can hear the people talking around you. I could hear my younger brother begging me to wake up. Begging me not to leave him like our mom and dad did—exactly like our mom and dad did. They died in a car crash. I died before mine. I could hear Caroline telling me that everything was going to be alright, that she couldn't lose me, that I was the closest thing to a sister she had ever had and that losing me was not an option. I could hear the doctors and nurses discussing the fact that patients with my type of head trauma were not usually unconscious that long and that I had to want to wake up in order to do it. The same is true for talking.

I have not spoken for a week other than to answer the aforementioned asinine questions. I cannot even bring myself to make the most mundane of groans. Groaning reflects the presence of an emotion and I am numb. They sent a psychiatrist to do a psych evaluation. Apparently a near death one car accident teamed with a refusal to talk hints at having a breakdown. So, I've agreed to communicate but not to the therapist who is beautiful and perky and most assuredly has no idea of what it's like to have her heart ripped from her body. I will communicate by keeping a journal.

One week of unconsciousness.

One week of being a selective mute.

I'm leaving in two weeks for France and I'm not sure when I'll be back.

He is gone.

And only Rebecca is left with a connection to him.

Five sentences and I'm already exhausted of writing. I must sleep.

~~~~~TVD~~~~~TVD~~~~~TVD~~~~~

"Elena, please, come back to me!"

I try to hold on to my dream. In my dream I am looking into eyes bluer than the sky. He is there in my dream and where he is, I want to be. There is no Rebecca in my dream. It is a world without bitch roommates—without babies. It is a world where people who say that they love you don't hurt you.

"Elena, come back!"

I'm trying! I want to say. I'm trying but something is pulling me away! Don't let go of me!

"Elena!" Caroline is practically shouting as I wake. "You scared me to death! I've been trying to wake you for a while now and you were fighting me. I'm going to call the nurse." She is near tears.

"Don't." My voice is a raspy whisper from being underused but she hears me and places the phone back in the cradle.

"Elena, sweetie, you're talking?" She's edging towards me like I'm a wild animal that she's afraid will bolt. I mutely nod in response. "Don't stop now. Please, it's me, talk to me."

"I don't know what to say." I answer blankly.

"How do you feel?"

"I don't feel anything."

"Lena, you nee…"

"Don't say that." I interrupt.

"Don't say what?" she asks, utterly bewildered.

"Don't call me that. He called me that."

Caroline reaches to hug me but, after looking at my arm which has various rods protruding from it, decides it's safer to just take my hand instead.

"He's called and come by my apartment so many times I've lost count."

"You didn't tell him what happened! Please tell me you didn't tell him where I am!" I am hit with a bout of coughing after raising my voice with emotion for the first time in weeks.

Caroline hands me my cup of water as she soothes, "Don't upset yourself. Of course I didn't tell him. The last instructions you left on my phone said not to tell him where you were so I didn't. I think he invented a few new curse words and I'm pretty sure my next door neighbor thinks I should get a restraining order."

"That won't be necessary." I mumble.

"Oh, I know. He may be passionate but Damon's not dangerous."

"Don't say his name. I can't hear his name," I whisper. "Besides, that's not what I meant." I take a steadying breath before I continue. "He's gone, Care."

"What do you mean he's gone?"

"I mean he is gone. He got a job and is moving to France this week."

"Oh, honey! I'm so sorry. I know you'll miss him but you knew there was a good chance he would be moving when he got a job. You guys can work something out."

"Rebecca's pregnant."

"WHAT?! Not that I can say I'm surprised. She sleeps with practically every guy she sees. The pill is not fool proof and that girl is a fool."

"I'm the fool."

"What do you mean?" asks Caroline.

"It's his baby."

"His? Whose?"

"Damon's" a sob tears from my throat. I guess I'm not numb after all.