I pick myself up from the bench and observe how the sky always seems to look so grim on this day. Colors are more muted than usual, the sun doesn't shine how it normally does and clouds steal the sky. It's a long walk back now, as my mind quickly becomes a whirlwind of emotion. I am lost in my own world. I've always lived for now, and right now all I know is how little my life has turned out as I once imagined.

I think of my father, the man who has caused so much of my pain. I haven't spoken to him for almost fifteen years to the day; the day he was locked away forever. Nothing but a nine by twelve cell and his regrets. He tried to reach out to me once, years back. My eighteenth birthday. He wrote about how sorry he was and how if he could he would have done everything differently and given me and my brother Jeremy the lives we deserved. That letter is now somewhere in Potomac River, a testament to how I felt about his apology.

'You have no idea what you have done to me this time do you, Samantha?" Jonathan Gilbert's voice was shaking in anger. There was a rage in his eyes that Samantha had never quite seen before, his eyes were dark, barely glistening from the reflection of the outside street lamp. Jonathan paced back and forth, his breathing strained and erratic, "That's it, I've had it!" He shouted, the strain in his voice evident. Samantha Gilbert took a sharp intake of breath, and looked down at her wedding ring. How could things have gotten this bad? How could their marriage, which produced two loving children come to this?

Jonathan shoved Samantha down onto the bed, gritting his teeth together as he reached his hand up and slapped her once, firmly, across the face. "Ah!" Samantha screamed, writhing in pain as she rubbed her cheek, the stinging feeling something she was used to. "What are you doing Jonathan? Please! Please don't do this!" She pleaded, her breathing intensifying. "Shut up Samantha, I swear if you don't fucking shut up!" Jonathan screamed, furrowing his eyebrows he looked to the left toward the night table then back at his wife. "John!" She cried out, as low sobs began to bellow out from her lips.

Mr. Gilbert hurried toward the night table swiftly pulling out the top drawer, his hands began to rummage through the contents of the drawer. Looking back toward his wife of thirteen years, who he was trying so hard to reconcile with after the abuse on his part, which ultimately forced her into the arms of a new man. Never taking his eyes off of Samantha, Jonathan raised a small, silver metal handgun from the drawer. "No, John! Stop it!" Samantha begged, her low sobs now turning into a fit of hysterics. There was silence, John said nothing as a look of rage crept across his face. His eyes went blank as he rose the hand holding the handgun just inches from his beloved wife's head. Samantha shook her head, her eyes flooded with tears. "John, I didn't mean for all of this to happen. You have to believe me! You forced me to do this, John! The strain you caused on our relationship, the abuse I endured; and the children. Jonathan think of Elena and Jeremy! Please!" Her voice a desperate tone, Samantha was shaking, terrified of the man in front of her; a man she could no longer see as the man she'd fallen in love with so many years ago.

John shook his head, his finger curling around the trigger as he pressed his lips into a hard line. "Damn it, Samantha! Everything is ruined, this is not how it should be! I'm sorry, Samantha. I'm sorry. If I can't have you, then no one can!" Jonathan took a sharp intake of breath, and curled his finger tighter around the trigger. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Three loud shots rang out throughout the Gilbert residence.

Elena lay awake in her bed, an eerie silence falling over the home, shortly followed by the blaring sound of sirens. Flashes of red and blue crept across the wall of Elena's room as she rose from her bed, her teddy bear in hand. She walked down the corridor where all the men in uniform seemed to be rushing through in a hurry. "Mommy?" She asked, her voice pleading with worry. Not one of the men rushing in and out of her parents bedroom noticed her tiny innocent body. As Elena glanced into the room which she had so many times, she immediately knew something was wrong. Though only seven years old, she knew her mother who now laid lifeless on the bed in front of her, was hurt. "Mommy!" She shouted, her eyes flooding quickly with tears. "Get her out of here! Check to see if there are any other children." One of the men dressed in a long black trench coat ordered, and quickly Elena was scooped up by one of the policemen and hurried out of the bedroom.'

The sound of a screeching car shake me from the nightmare I have replayed so many times before. Those images haunt me to the core, so vivid, as though these sixteen years were nothing more than a mere sixteen minutes. I walk along the sidewalk back toward my house, alone with nothing but the the memories of my tormented reality. A sigh escapes my lips, I'm tired of it all. I am weak, physically exhausted by these thoughts that constantly wrack my brain. I'm sick of the days I spend crying that my life didn't turned out quite how I'd planned. Will this feeling seemingly embedded somewhere deep within the foundation of my being ever go away?

I need to move on.

I continue on down the block, and I steal a quick glance over at the Salvatore residence. There had not been much going on in the house directly next door from my own, quiet mostly. My eyes lock onto the sight of a man in front of the home. He's getting out of his ritzy silver Bentley Continental GT, and I note how there is a certain self-assured composure about him. He has an effortless, unexplainable confidence. This guy must live the life. What is he doing at the Salvatore residence? Surely he's lost, no one has visited Elizabeth Salvatore in years. She wasn't much for visitors, or maybe she had none. I wouldn't know, we haven't spoken since Damon and his father left her and she shut the rest of the world out. I can relate to her though, sometimes it's best to simply discard all emotion. If you live without emotion you will never have to experience the hurt, the pain, and the anguish. Maybe that is no way to live though, maybe after all I've been through I should let people in. I should try and see all the good that life has to offer. Maybe I don't really want to know what's good for me.

I look over once more at the alluring man next door but I keep walking, I don't want to stare. As I walk up my stoned driveway, I feel my heartbeat quicken, but I am not sure why.

Thank you all so much for your kind words and feedback. I'm really excited for this fic, and I have it nearly all planned out and every time I complete another chapter even more ideas come to me. This is gonna be a long one, as I have a lot of story I want to tell so come with me and enjoy the ride. I can't stop myself from listening to Lana Del Rey songs for inspiration. This story may touch on some dark themes, and this is a warning to all that read if you are easily offended.

I am also looking for a beta, so if anyone is interested I'd love to hear from you. I am not used to writing in first person, so I tend to find words in the wrong tense while I proof-read, so an extra eye would be greatly appreciated.

Again, thank you so much for the love! I'm working hard on getting a bunch of chapters out for you all as quickly as my fingertips will allow!

Alyssa