Story: Control
Chapter: Nine - Stupid Shallow Useless Whatever
Pairing: Caroline/Damon, with some Caroline/Other, Damon/other
Summary: "If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough" -Mario Andretti. A study in control; one who considers her life in control and one who does everything he can to control those around him.
"Stupid" "Shallow" "Useless"
And like some unpleasant catalyst the daydream is shattered, and she is left reeling as he walks away without looking back. Always so socially aware, her first reaction should have been to make sure no one heard his cruel refusal of her affections. Always so self aware, her first reaction should have been a cool rebuttal and a toss of her sleek hair. Always so poised, her first reaction should have been to take it with a smile, face unbreakable, head held high. Instead she crumbles. Instead she could care less if anyone is witnessing her humiliation. Instead she slumps on top of the bar and keeps snapping her fingers until she's downed enough gin and tonics to forget her own name. She doesn't understand where it came from. Why he said it there and then and in so few words. But somehow it confirms and multiplies all her fears and she just wants to forget about it. All of it.
She wants to forget everything: his face, his eyes, his lips turned downward as he spat out his goodbyes with enough acid to corrode stone. She needs to forget him or else he will haunt her forever.
And he does. His words circle her head like a black crown; shaming her. It's 5am and she is bent over the toilet at puking her heart out while Matt holds her hair and tries to catch her tears at the same time. Her stomach is empty, her eyes are glazed and Matt is mumbling something about Tylenol and water but all she hears is stupid, all she hears is shallow; all she feels is useless. And she knows that feeling won't go away.
Stupid she can take, hell she can take stupid and raise it the A she got in English last semester. She can take stupid and rationalize it with the steady diet of C's she's been receiving this term. Shallow, well she maybe she deserved that one but so what? She's thought about it before and everybody is shallow: that ugly girl with the frizzy hair still wants her prince charming. That boy who tries too hard to look like he's not trying clearly has a passion for all things in a D cup. That irritating boy who quotes Niche like it's the bible, he still went to the prom and drank the punch. They all want love, they all look in the mirror: they all try, shallow, shallow, shallow. Why should she be any different? She figures her whole blond hair cheerleader getup it's the most honest version of shallow there is.
And yet his judgment was cuts deeper than it should. She thinks the whole town could gang up on her and she wouldn't feel this bad.
She can't muster up the energy to take useless. She feels useless, she is useless and her heart feels useless because it has nothing to love anymore. She spent three months loving him. She spent three months thinking only of him and what she can do to make him look at her with even a fraction of the emotion she feels when she looks at him. And she has failed miserably. Here, now, when as she is pushing Matt away and leaning once more over the toilet she knows she has failed. She is a failure.
She's never felt more useless and alone in her life.
Somehow, she convinces Matt that she is fine, a little drunk, but fine. And he leaves with a hug, a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on her bedside table. The tears come the moment she hears to door slam and she is crying so hard that her chest aches from sobbing, her eyes sting from all those useless tears and her jaw throbs and her throat burns and she just hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts. She just hurts so fucking much. She's never been dumped before but somehow she knows that even the hardest breakup shouldn't hurt this bad.
She's never felt more useless and alone in her life.
And she can't stand it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her self preservation instinct kicks in. She doesn't want her mom to come in and see her like this. She doesn't want to face a concerned Elena and Bonnie in the morning. She doesn't want to reassure Matt, as sweet as he is. She can't, she can't do it.
They don't understand.
They would offer candy and kind words and hugs and movies and maybe even the opportunity to skip school and lounge all day. They would tell her she is beautiful, they would tell her that she can do soooo much better; that she is way better off without him. They would brush her hair and whisper that he was a jerk, that he doesn't know what he is missing, that he is a selfish, violent asshole who only loves his own reflection. And she would have to smile, and she would have to laugh through her tears and wipe away their worries with a tissue and talk of new hotter boys and say something stupid like "Caroline's back on the market, better watch out" just to assuage them from looking any deeper.
But she can't do it. She's never been great at lying, she's downright useless at it actually and somehow she knows that she wouldn't be able to hold the façade very long at all.
He is cruel and violet. He is manipulative and controlling. He's reckless and impulsive and quick to anger. He's hurt her more in three months than she thought possible; he's hurt her more in three minutes with three words that she has even been hurt in her entire life. And somehow, for some reason, probably because she is stupid and shallow and useless she still loves him. She still wants to brush the hair off his face while he mocks "Twilight". She still wants to scratch her nails down his back as he bites her neck and touches her again and again. She just wants him to come into the room now and say something; anything, nothing; everything. He won't apologize and she's certain that she would end up apologizing for him because she just wants him back. She wants to go back to walking on eggshells, to waking up to a bloody pillow and a sore neck, she wants to go back to him scaring her and yelling at her because at least he was with her and at least he was feeling something for her, even if it's anger.
She is pathetic, she is no better than a battered woman justifying an abusive husband. They would all see it that way and nothing she could ever say would make them think any different. She doubts she can justify it to herself, but she remembers his laugh as he poked fun at Edward. She remembers the mischievous look in his eyes as they went around the founder's ball stealing purses and mementos and hiding them just for the hell of it. She remembers that impish grin of his as they jumped out of the plane together; she remembers the feel of his hand on hers as he said, "one, two, three, go!" And she remembers the blackness in his eyes right before his teeth pierced her skin, she remembers his fingers on her thighs and his mouth on her breast and his kisses on her lips and the way he would soften the blow of his teeth by kissing the area afterward and playfully nipping at her lips.
He is cruel and violent and he's turned her into this lifeless slave girl but she just wants her dungeon boy back. She just wants his lips on hers, wants his hips on hers and his teeth on her skin. He needed blood and she willingly gave it to him, always. And that gave her some sort of purpose.
Now she is just useless and alone. And tomorrow brings promises of a hangover and dried tears and the nauseating prospect of facing everyone who said I told you so.
She can't do it. Maybe she is a coward, maybe she is this useless little girl, but she can't handle the thought of facing anyone, she can't handle the thought of waking up tomorrow to a headache a clean pillow and an empty bed.
The alcohol is clearly still in her system as she staggers out of bed, blindly groping the floor for her shoes and stumbling down the stairs. She fishes out the spare keys from above the stove and she knows she is too drunk to drive but she's sort of got a death wish at this point and all she can wrap her mind around is the fact that she needs to get out of here.
Once she's in the car and out of her driveway she knows it's a mistake, the stop signs are blurring past her and the lights are swimming into each other like big green red and yellow fireworks. "Caroline" she tells herself. "Turn around and go home. Turn the fuck around and go home" She's never felt more useless and alone in her life because she is not turning around and she answers herself by pressing harder on the gas.
It helps to focus on the outside world as it blurs by her, it helps to focus on keeping her eyes open and not drifting off into that happy place that seems so welcoming right now. It helps to focus on anything but him.
Still somewhere along the way the green light looked sort of blue to her and she imagined it framed by thick lashes and dark brows and she chokes back a sob as that feeling enters her chest and clenches her heart with a painful iron grip.
And then too late she sees the road in front of her. Ten seconds of dwelling on his gaze and she can't stop in time. She feels more than sees her car hit the figure on the road. She doesn't see the body soar through the air because suddenly it's all caught up with her and she is spinning out of control. There is an awful crunching sound and a screech and then her head hits the steering wheel and her eyes shut and there's all this movement and falling and spinning that she can't quite see it but she can feel it and she can hear it.
The movement stops and the car lurches one last painful time. She's conscious enough to feel that familiar warm liquid drip down her face. Everything hurts and breathing is becoming a struggle. With effort she pries her eyes open and it takes a moment to orient herself. Through the broken window she sees the world is upside down and this scares her. Her hands try and fumble for the belt but she can't really figure out where she is where everything else is in relation to her. Outside she hears a crack and she stops struggling long enough to look outside.
The figure on the road is moving. Through her wide eyes she watches it twitch and move spastically. At first she feels a wave of guilt and a wave of something she can't even bring herself to define. She's killed someone. She's been so caught up with her stupid useless love life that she has cost someone their life. She's fucking killed somebody. She is a killer.
And then faster than she can realize what's happening the guilt turns to horror. Her eyes grow wide, her stomach plummets with a sickening sensation and she fights to keep from screaming.
Arms pop back into place, legs back into sockets; the figure sits up and cracks his back into place; she can hear each vertebra move into place with a growing sense of unease. He adjusts his neck and then he stands up tall and she can't see his head any more. Then his shoulders disappear out of her view and she realizes that he is coming towards her.
Her hands are fighting with the seat belt and she has given up crying because she is screaming and struggling and moving and it's useless because she is stuck and those dark legs keep coming closer and closer.
There is a screeching noise and suddenly the door isn't where it was a minute ago. Suddenly she is in the painful grip of this stranger who is squeezing her so tight she can't breathe enough to scream.
The words float to her lips a moment before it all becomes too much.
"Help me Damon"
And then it all goes black.
Yup so kind of merged the Elena storyline into a Caroline one. Going to try and fuse more of what's happening in the show into this story- however from this point on it will be pretty AU.
Reviews would be amazing, they really keep me going! So even if it's just a line, or if it's some constructive criticism ...I'll take it happily.
XoXoX