A/N: sorry it's taken so long for me to update! i've had horrible horrible writer's block. But i'm trying to get back into the swing of it, so here's the answer to all those who wondered if my story would feature Jeremy as a vampire or not. and before i forget- much gratitude for your reviews! you guys kickass3
Jeremy's eyes burned. Why was it so bright? He didn't have fluorescent lighting in his bedroom…and then, he opened his eyes.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Damon Salvatore was standing in front of the door to the room, arms crossed, glaring at Jeremy with a sharper glance that any vampire's fangs.
A hospital. I'm in a hospital. With Damon?
"How did I get here?" Jeremy asked, his voice weak and cracking. Oh, god, my throat.
"I wouldn't talk if I were you. Turns out, when you try to kill yourself with pain pills, they have to pump you stomach. Good thinking on that one," Damon replied, his trademark sarcasm laced with hints of true anger.
"What are you doing here?" Jeremy managed to spit out, rubbing up and down his throat with his left hand, wishing away the pain.
Damon's expression faltered for a second, and he looked quickly to his side, as if Jeremy were talking to someone else. The moment of uncertainty only lasted a moment, though, and was by Jeremy's bed side in under a second, thanks to his vampire speed.
"Your sister and aunt are in hysterics because of what you did. Also, your Uncle John is dead." Jeremy's eyebrows raised in shock, but Damon continued.
"But I'm here to check on you, and to tell you what a monumental idiot you are. Do you know what your death would have done to your sister? Or did you just not care?"
Jeremy didn't respond; his throat hurt too much to actually argue with Damon.
"Are you really that mad at her? Or did you just forgot about her altogether?"
Damon finished with an indignant pant, clearly not accustomed to scolding people. But Jeremy still didn't say anything.
A few moments passed before Damon turned to leave, and as his hand gripped the doorknob, Jeremy finally spoke.
"I didn't try to kill myself," He said quietly.
Damon half-rolled his eyes. "Really?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jeremy cast his eyes down, not sure to admit what he'd actually planned on doing.
"I had…I had a vial. Of Anna's blood. She'd wanted me to turn before…and i said no then. But after...it hurt too much."
Damon took a step back towards the bed, his black boots squeaking on the freshly waxed hospital floors.
"You were trying to turn yourself?" He asked, almost not comprehending. He'd known humans who wanted to turn- Isobel was one example- but he hadn't expected it out of Elena's kid brother.
"You said I could turn it off," Jeremy whispered, his eyes going glassy. "Said I wouldn't hurt anymore. I had to try."
Damon really looked at Jeremy- took in his sallow skin, floppy hair, pained expression. The kid was messed up enough to try to give up his life for something akin to what Damon had lived for the past 145 years. And Damon himself was at least partially responsible for it, for turning Vicki. He shook his head as the empathy pierced him once again.
"Just because you can stop yourself from caring, doesn't mean the pain is gone," He said emphatically, trying to make the boy understand. "You don't want to be what I am."
And with a whisper of air, Damon was gone.