AUTHOR'S NOTE: WARNING. GRAPHIC SCENE. Do not read if you are…..what the hell? Read it anyway. Life is not worth living if you don't take risks.
This was an extremely hard chapter to write. I didn't enjoy a second of it. It's definitely not for the faint-hearted, so be warned. In case you're wondering, I am a mentally sound person and no, I do not condone this kind of behavior. Prepare to be disgusted.
Oh, I know you haven't gotten a reply to your review yet for Chapter 12, but I was so nervous for this chapter that I focused on writing instead. I'll make sure to reply each and every one of you (except for those who didn't log in or the guest reviewers, because I can't, obviously!). I promise. And thanks once again. I really love all of you. Will you please love me back?
A Woman's Worth: Chapter THIRTEEN
Elena's POV
I gulped nervously as I saw the familiar expression of anger on Mason's face. It was obvious that he'd overheard what Caroline said earlier about Damon. A part of me wanted to turn tail and run out the door and chase after Care's car, but then I also remembered why I came back to this house in the first place; I wanted to offer Mason some support and hope, and convince him that he shouldn't have to live like this, in a perpetual state of anger. I wanted to help him and be there for him like how my friends were there for me when I needed them.
But now, it was as if I didn't know how to be around him anymore. The old me would have rushed over and comforted him, promising that he would never lose me to anyone else, but somehow along the way, whether it was by Damon and Care's influence or not, I found myself unwilling to make promises I didn't know if I could keep…didn't know if I wanted to keep.
"Mason, I-" I paused, not knowing what to say. What do you say to someone - a boyfriend - after your best friend declares that another guy you happen to care about deeply has feelings for you? Nothing, that's what.
"That Salvatore guy sure gets around, huh?" Mason bit out angrily. "First he steals Tyler's girl and now he wants mine, too?"
Shaking my head defensively, I took a tentative step towards him as if he was a skittish wild animal about to pounce on me and maul my face off. The last thing either of us needed now was for him to lose control of his temper over this. This wasn't how I imagined our reunion would be like, and on Christmas day on top of that!
"Damon never stole Caroline from Tyler, Mase. She broke up with Ty because he…well, he hit her after a slight misunderstanding. She's just not one to put up with a guy who thinks that it's okay to slap her around, no matter what the cause," I said quietly, not even thinking about what he might think about my defense for my best friend. I was still reeling from the bomb she dropped on me earlier about Damon.
"So is that what you're doing here, putting up with me? You're only back with me because you have nowhere else to go, right? Is that why you haven't agreed to marry me? Tell me the truth, Elena!"
I shrank back as he moved closer, his frame towering over me as I cowered under his heated gaze. It was such a déjà vu moment, too, my mind instantly transporting me back to the time months ago when we were in the same location of the house, the time when he had shoved me towards the console table that later resulted in me being hospitalized.
I immediately tensed up, my heart threatening to beat a hole out of my ribcage as it thudded a mile a minute. Bracing myself for a possibility of another violent outburst from him, I placed both my palms flat on his chest in an attempt to calm him down. I've got this, I thought. I was no longer the clueless weakling who walked around with my head buried in the ground. I knew what I was doing when I made the decision to come back, and for the first time, I had faith that Mason was a changed man. At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
"No, Mase, listen to me," I implored, refusing to let my rising fear overwhelm me. "This quick temper, the harsh words, the uncontrollable violent outburts…that's not who you are. I'll admit that it has been complicated these past few months, but you need to understand that I'm here because I want to be, because I know that deep down, you're still the same sweet and caring man I fell in love with. I'm not saying yes to your proposal because we're not ready, not because of anything else. I'm choosing to be here, Mason, so even if you don't believe anything else, believe that."
All I could hear besides the loud drumming in my chest was the sound of the clock ticking away in the background, the seconds dragging by as he stared down at me, his chest heaving. We were practically nose-to-nose now, his light blue eyes intent on mine, and I waited, praying silently that my faith in him would not come back and bite me in the ass.
A moment later he withdrew, slowly, warily. I released the breath I didn't even realized I was holding, relaxing slightly when I could see the angry haze in his eyes diminishing, until he was once again the Mason that I knew.
One crisis averted. For now.
"So I shouldn't be worried about him?" he asked softly, assuming correctly that I'd immediately know who he was referring to. No, he shouldn't be worried about Damon, but I did. The way he left earlier as if he couldn't wait to get me out of his sight, I knew that I had lost him for good. He looked so hurt, so disappointed, so angry. I hadn't even begun to think about him being supposedly in love with me, although my heart soared a little at the thought of it being a possibility.
No, Elena. You can't think that way. You can't let yourself have hope when you've made your choice about staying with Mason. The future of your relationship with Mason is unclear now, but he needs you right now. He has no one else who could possibly understand. You're the only one who can save him from himself.
My internal pep talk gave me the determination to do what needed to be done, even if every single cell of my body was trying to convince me to do otherwise, to run in the other direction. I steeled my resolve and looked at Mason square in the eyes. "There's nothing to worry about. It's not like that between us," I assured him.
Saying that out loud, I knew that if there was ever any hope for my relationship with Damon being more than just friendship, it was gone now. I had single-handedly destroyed the best opportunity of that happening. A painful twinge gripped my heart and I fought against the tears that were threatening to betray my confident façade.
Luckily, I must have been a master of disguising my inner turmoil because Mason seemed to believe me. He nodded, and then lifted a hand to cup my cheek before stepping forward to press his lips against my closed ones. I froze because I didn't expect it and at the same time, didn't welcome it.
"Mmm, morning breath," he mumbled when he lifted his head a moment later, and I had never been more grateful for being unhygienic in my life. Perhaps I should stop showering altogether to avoid any further physical contact between us. "Why don't you go freshen up and get ready? I'll take you out for a Christmas brunch," he suggested.
Well, so much for my brilliant plan to be icky and disgusting.
On second thought, I did need a moment to myself, seeing as I was worried sick about Damon and Caroline's disturbing announcement that he had resorted to drinking again after my disappearing act last night. The thought that I would be the one to cause him to fall off the wagon never crossed my mind, and now that it was happening, I couldn't hold back the wave of guilt that washed over me. I needed to check on him.
Flashing Mason a distracted smile, I hurried upstairs to our room, quickly stripping down to my pajama shorts and bra. I grabbed a change of clothes from the wardrobe and entered the attached bathroom, turning the knobs on the wall in the shower stall and let the water run. I hoped that the sound would cover my voice when I made the call to check on Damon.
Locating my phone on the nightstand, I scrolled down my list of received calls from the past few days and found his number. I waited nervously as I stood by the window, gazing out onto the quiet road, half-expecting to see a familiar Camaro parked at its usual spot underneath a shady tree when he and Care had been not-so-stealthily spying on me when I was on a self-imposed house arrest. I didn't even care that I was semi-naked and the whole neighborhood could check out my goodies through the window.
He didn't pick up. I let the phone ring until it was diverted to his voice mail, and then I tried again. And again. He was ignoring me.
I had no idea how much it would hurt until that moment when I realized that he would probably never want to see or hear from me again. I thought back to last night at the party, wondering if things would turn out differently if Stefan hadn't cut in and asked me to dance first. If I had danced with Damon instead, would I still be here, in this house, trying very hard not to let myself regret my decision? Would I have chosen differently if I knew how he really felt then?
I had no answers. Not for my rhetorical questions and not from the man in question over the phone, seeing as he failed to pick up the call again. Once again, I heard the sound of the pre-recorded voice asking me to leave a message followed by a loud beep. I decided to try and salvage whatever I could of our friendship, even if we were to end up merely saying hello and goodbye as we passed each other on the street. Mystic Falls wasn't a very big town after all.
"Damon," I said in a hesitant voice. And then once again grew tongue-tied. I couldn't just blurt out, "I know how you feel and I feel the same way, but it can't ever happen between us because I have to save my boyfriend from becoming The Hulk". I shook my head to clear it and tried to use my instincts to guide me.
"Damon, I know that I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now, and I understand why you're angry at me, but I need to talk you, to explain," I said, feeling slightly more confident now. "I'm sorry. I know you probably think I'm the biggest idiot for getting back together with Mason, but I'm just trying to be there for him the way you and Care have been there for me. I don't want you to worry about me, not if it's driving you to drink again. Please, Damon, if you don't want me to worry about you, please don't try to drown yourself in the bottle again. Remember what happened the last time you indulged? And the regret you felt afterwards? I don't want you to have to live with that feeling again."
Taking a deep breath, I struggled to hold my emotions in check, remembering our talk at the cemetery as we sat down next to his mother's grave. I recalled the pain in his voice and his expression as he recounted the story of how he found his little brother kneeling beside their mother's body, and his vow to not let himself succumb to the alcohol's influence again, but yet here he was, making the wrong choice all over again. I had to try harder.
"I-I care about you, Damon, and knowing that it's all my fault, I –"
Suddenly, my phone was snatched out of my hands painfully, and then with a bellow of rage, Mason threw it against a wall and I could only watch, helpless and horrified, as it bounced off and fell to the floor, broken. To say that I was shocked was an understatement. I didn't even realize that he was screaming at me until I found myself being hauled against him, his grips tightening around my wrists.
"…lying bitch! I knew it! I knew that there was something going on between you and that Salvatore guy the moment you became friends with him at the hospital," he yelled angrily, his spit spraying all over my face. "I had a feeling about him and I was right. If you're so in love with each other, then what the hell are you doing here?"
I struggled against his firm grip, feeling the panic I had suppressed earlier in the foyer rising swiftly. "Mason, please let go of me," I pleaded, but he was too far gone to heed me.
"Do you take me for a fool? You need something from me, don't you? What is it? Is it money? Wasn't it enough that I let you stay here and give you an education and supported you all these years? All because I felt guilty and I wanted to do right by you, but now you want more? Or maybe you want both of us, is that it?"
"No," I whimpered, shaking my head at his insinuations. Why couldn't he see that he was hurting me? Why did he always have to assume the worst of me? "Mason, it's not like that between us at all-"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he roared, and then my head snapped to the side, my left cheek exploding in pain at the unanticipated slap. I was still struggling to make sense of what happened when I found myself pinned down on the floor under him.
As if by some automatic response to his attack, my mind chose that moment to recall that moment at the hospital grounds when Damon was showing me how to fight off an attack by someone far superior in size than me. I twisted my body to the side, causing him to lose his balance and slide to the floor right beside me while I focused on getting my right hand free to deliver the punch right to his solar plexus like how I practiced with Damon. I leaned back slightly and my fist flew out to connect to his hard chest, the impact sending shockwaves from my knuckles up through my arm, and I could have sworn I heard something crack.
It didn't work.
Whether it was because of my position on the floor that resulted in a lack of power in my punch or because Mason was actually a cyborg and had a steel chest plate, my self-defense attempt failed miserably except to make him even angrier than he already was.
Rolling on top of me once more, he let out a low growl and pinned both my arms on the floor, laying them out beside my head. "You wanna play rough, huh? I can play rough, but the question is, can you handle it?" he asked, his voice dripping with menace and then one of his hands reached down and roughly pulled my bra down from my chest. I looked down in horror when I heard the sound of tearing to find him holding my frayed bra, then tossing it behind him.
I experience a moment of shock when he leaned down and placed his mouth on one peak, my blood running cold at the thought of this new form of abuse. I was expecting something like what happened the last time; some slapping around, pushing and shoving me against walls, fingers leaving bruises against my skin, but nothing had prepared me for the knowledge of what he was about to do to me.
"No, please don't," I cried out, my tears flowing down the sides of my face and into my hair. My denial caused him to bite down hard on one nipple, and I screamed out in pain as I redoubled my attempts to escape. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I choked out without thinking, my body quivering with fear and disbelief. I couldn't imagine that the man on top of me would be capable of such a horrible action, but then again, I had been wrong before.
"How long have you two been going around behind my back, huh? Since you were discharged from the hospital? Did you cheat on me with him since then? Did you two have your little affair while I was at work? How many times has he been here, in my house and on my bed, discovering what a slut you really are?" Mason pressed his lower body against me after every question, making me cry out in a panic as I felt his growing arousal. How could he get excited from hurting me like this? "Did he make you cum? Or maybe not since you can be such a frigid bitch at times."
And with that punishing statement, he lowered his hand and ripped the joint seam at the crotch area of my shorts, creating a hole big enough for his fingers to explore the unprotected skin beneath. That was when I realized with sudden clarity that he was about to force himself on me. I had to bite down on my tongue to avoid getting sick right then and there.
Renewing my struggles, I tried to reach inside his mind, to appeal to the humanity I hoped still remained in there because I no longer recognized the face of the animal on top of me. His features were hardened, bitter and full of rage; there was no trace of the old Mason left. "Please, Mason, don't do this. Please! I came back because I care about you. I didn't cheat on you, I promise. Why won't you believe me?" My last plea was torn from my chest the moment his fingers probed around my lower lips, seeking for entrance. My body wasn't prepared for this, and neither was my mind.
"You want me to believe you? Fine, then tell me you love me," he challenged, his body moving upwards until he was on his knees on top of my chest, the weight of his body crushing against my lungs. The new position freed up my legs and so I wasted no time in kicking out in all directions but soon, I found myself tiring out as I fought to draw a breath in. My lids were getting heavy and my vision was getting hazy as I laid there, defenseless and helpless. I prayed for some kind of divine intervention, perhaps in the form of my previous saviors, but I knew that it was hopeless. They were gone.
As I began to drift in and out of semi-consciousness, I caught glimpses of Mason undoing the top button and zipper of his pants and I knew that the thing I dreaded most was coming. I felt him grab my left hand, and then a sharp sting on my fourth finger as I caught the words "marry" and "love" being uttered by him.
Just as I was about to pass out for real, the pressure on my chest eased, resulting in me gulping for breaths. "Say it! Say you love me, Elena. You wanted to prove that you don't care about anyone else but me, well this is your chance. Say you love me!" he yelled into my ear and then proceeded to bury his head in the crook of my neck, where I could feel a sharp twinge of pain. He repeated his request, even as he got into position between my lifeless legs.
My back arched sharply the moment he entered me in one swift motion, the pain too excruciating to describe, my mouth falling open in a soundless scream. Two teardrops flowed out of the corners of my eyes but there was nothing I could do but to take his brutal thrusting, uncaring that I was dry and that my body was rejecting every single movement. It felt as if he was tearing me apart from the inside out.
"God-dammit, Elena, say it!"
At that moment, I hated him for using me, for breaking me, for taking away every single hope I had left in the world. I wanted to die.
"I…love…him," I managed to croak out tonelessly, shutting off my emotions as they slowly vanished into nothingness. There wasn't any point to lying anymore. The truth was simpler. It didn't require thinking, or processing. I was merely an empty vessel now, a ragdoll for him to play with as he saw fit. My body grew limp and I stared emptily up at the ceiling.
My final confession angered him further, as proven when he roared out in a rage and flipped me around so that I was lying faced down and then my torn shorts was gone as well. I didn't put up any fight at all when he pushed and held my head down on the rough carpet and took me brutally again and again. My whole body shook violently as he pummeled deeply into me, as if I was nothing but a blown-up sex toy, existing only for his pleasure. I registered the sensation of a carpet burn on the left side of my face but other than that, I felt nothing. I had stopped crying a while ago, and there was barely any sound at all in the room except for Mason's grunting and the sound of skin slapping on skin.
"….sad whore….slut….unwanted….a burden…." Those were the only words that leapt out at me during his angry tirade as he strived to complete his moment of bliss. I heard them, but they didn't hold any meaning to me now. My mind refused to work except for a single image that I had conjured up in my head and kept my focus on; Damon smiling at me the day we visited the cemetery.
I envisioned the day clearly, the color of the sky, the gentle breeze blowing through my hair, softly caressing my skin as we walked into the peaceful grounds. Physically, I was in Mason's bedroom, on the floor, my body battered and used without care. Mentally, I was enjoying a day with my raven-haired hero, the man who had consumed my thoughts from the moment I met him.
So lost in my own world I was that I didn't even realize when it was all over. Gripping my hips painfully, he pulled out of me with a loud groan, and then he emptied himself in long forceful spurts on my back, some landing on my shoulders, some on my hair and also my lower back. I didn't know how long I laid there in the same position, frozen. I heard him sigh deeply, his breaths clearly audible as he collected himself.
"You know what? Maybe I'm not the problem, have you thought about that? Maybe you're the problem, and I'm just tired of having to put up with you. My biggest regret was when I took you in when nobody else wanted you, Elena. Even your parents would rather die than take care of you. Well, at least you were a good fuck."
My eyes closed of their own accord, and I remained still, soaking up the moment of silence that stretched after his cruel speech. When they opened up again a while later, I could no longer sense his presence in the room with me. I strained my ears, trying to pinpoint his exact location in the house, but there was nothing but the sound of the neighborhood waking up on Christmas morning. It should have been a merry occasion, but the day now held nothing but painful memories for me. What used to be the best holiday I ever spent with my parents and their friends was now irreparably tarnished by Mason.
Raising my head a little, I peeked around the room, searching for a sign of life, but there was nobody else. I only had two thoughts in my mind at that moment; to hide and protect myself, and also to get rid of any and all signs of the last hour. When I moved my lower body, I wanted to scream from the pain that enveloped me, but I was determined to stick to my plan.
I mustered the rest of my strength by slowly crawling towards the bathroom, the sound of the running water guiding me over. Cautiously and with extreme slowness, I managed to crawl inch-by-inch and once inside, I barricaded the door by locking it and then used anything within reach from my lower position to stack them up against the door. It may have been a futile effort, but I didn't dwell on it. I just had to keep moving.
I crawled the rest of the way into the shower stall, and let the water I had left running cascade down over me, washing away the proof of my traumatic morning. I sat down on the floor of the bathroom, my back against the tiled wall as I lifted a heavy arm to twist the shower knob so that the water became scalding hot.
I needed to be clean.
The temperature may have been too hot, but I didn't mind because the pain I felt from the burn was tons better than the pain in my chest. I didn't allow myself to feel, didn't allow myself to think, and just concentrated on getting clean. I grabbed a sponge loofah then proceeded to scrub at my skin, going through every inch carefully and methodically until my body was covered with red marks.
At one point, when the hot water ran out and all that was left was freezing cold water that continued to rain down on me, another thought occurred to me. I pulled myself up to my feet, leaning heavily on the wall for support, and then I caught my reflection on the bathroom mirror.
I didn't see someone I recognized. It wasn't just the physical changes I detected from being manhandled by Mason. I was a ghost, a hollowed out shell of the girl I used to be, and I knew without a doubt that nothing would ever be the same again. The devastated look I saw in the mirror was one I had seen before. It was the exact look I had the last time I peered into the same mirror, with Caroline beside me that day I made the unwise decision to cut off my friends. I looked as if I had looked Death directly in the face and seen the bleakness of my future. My life, as I knew it, was over.
Without any further hesitation, I reached out with a trembling hand to take Mason's shaving blade between my fingers. Then, looking back into the mirror, I stared directly into my empty eyes and lifted that same hand, smiling sadly.
A/N: There's cliffy Number ONE. I do so enjoy being evil in fiction.
Damon's POV
I sat on my regular barstool at the Grill, ignoring the bartender, Donovan's puzzled gaze. Perhaps it wasn't a normal sight for him to see me ordering shot after shots of whisky and then tossing them down continuously as if I was making up for lost time, but he said nothing as he continued to clean more glasses.
Just when I raised yet another glass to my lips, a hand shot out from behind me and snatched it away. I looked up just in time to see Blondie tilting her head back and swallowing the contents in a single gulp. She cringed at the strong aftertaste and released a shudder as she sank down heavily in the seat next to me.
"I'm the world's suckiest best friend," she announced glumly, heaving a deep sigh as she slammed the now empty glass on the bar counter. Really, she was being too hard on herself, but I wasn't in the mood to argue with her. "And you, you should learn this little thing known as answering your phone for once, buster!"
"You owe me fifteen bucks for that drink," I quipped, rolling my bloodshot eyes at Donovan as I ignored her last comment. Truthfully, I had my phone on silent after seeing the first call from Elena earlier. I already knew what she was going to say anyway, so why even bother to answer and listen to the same excuses she insisted on giving on behalf of that jerk? I should have known, though, that Blondie would find me. The girl had the instincts of a bloodhound.
"Fifteen bucks for a mouthful of detergent?!" she gasped, pinning her annoyed gaze on the poor bartender. "Matt, you can't charge that amount of money for crap like that! At least bring out the good stuff, or you know, give it to us for a friendly discounted price."
Hmm. I really thought that Blondie would get on my case for drinking again, but apparently she was as upset as I was, maybe even more so. Elena was her best friend, after all, and she probably felt bad that she wasn't able to stop her from making the worst mistake of her life by marrying Jerkwood. The reminder of that little fact immediately sobered me up, so I reached out to take another shot, but once again, Blondie robbed me of it.
"I can't believe Elena's being so stupid," she said before tossing the drink back like a seasoned pro. You'd think she was an alcoholic the way she was practically inhaling the heavy stuff down so effortlessly. "I really thought that we'd gotten through to her when she finally moved out of his house, but now she's back with him again as if nothing has happened! We really need to go back there and change her-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Care. In fact, I don't even want to think. I came here to sit down and enjoy my drink peacefully, not to have you constantly reminding me about her or the fact that I have failed so miserably at my job. And, you now owe me thirty bucks but I'm willing to waive that off if you'll agree to leave me alone and go do….whatever it is you do on Christmas day. I heard that the black Santa from last night would be at the mall today. Why don't you go and sit on his lap and tell him all about what a good girl you've been this year, hmm?"
I waved her off with one hand and signaled for Donovan to refill the two empty glasses. He came over, a small hand towel slung over one shoulder and eyed me and my partner-in-crime while wordlessly pouring the amber liquid in front of us. Then, he lingered in the vicinity while pretending like he wasn't trying to eavesdrop on us.
For a moment there, I thought I had successfully managed to shut Blondie up for the very first time, but then she let out a huge bomb the size of Hiroshima. And Nagasaki. Combined.
"I may or may not have told Elena that you are in love with her," she blurted out suddenly, her eyes downcast as she avoided my shocked gaze.
"You what?!" I yelled out, drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant…bar….cafe. Okay, what the hell is the Mystic Grill anyway?! Was it important? Nope. "Care, you seriously stepped over the line this time. How could you do that? How could you tell her that?"
I watched with narrowed eyes as she squirmed in her seat, looking longingly at the two glasses of Bourbon recently poured by Donovan.
"Well, remember this morning when we said that we'll explain everything to Elena so that there would be no more misunderstandings? I-I thought that's what we were doing," she said softly with uncertainty in her tone.
"Yeah, but that was before we knew she had agreed to marry that asshole Mason Lockwood! What does the truth even matter now? She left the party we planned for her last night because she decided to marry him," I told her in a bitter tone, shaking my head at the thought of seeing Elena walking down an aisle, dressed gloriously in white. Only, I wasn't the groom. Then I had a vision of that perfectly white gown stained in red, slowly spreading through the fabric.
Blood.
"Wait, Elena accepted Mason's proposal?" The question came from the blond bartender who froze in his act of cleaning the counter, his pretty blue eyes trained on both of us. "Because that's not what I gathered from her last night."
I blinked at him, wondering what he meant by that and turned to look at Blondie who wore a similar expression as I probably did. Then I remembered. Meredith told us that Elena hitched a ride back to the Forbes' residence with Donovan last night. That meant….
"She spoke to you about it? What did she say? Did she tell you if he proposed, when he proposed, and how he proposed? Because she hasn't seen him for weeks, so how could he have had the chance to see her? Tell me exactly what happened last night," I asked eagerly, more animated than I had been since last night.
I didn't take my attention away from the guy, but I could feel Blondie leaning in and then her elbows came to rest on the counter, right beside mine. Our focus were entirely on the nervous bartender now, because obviously, nobody really pays attention to the guy who pours everyone drinks except when they wanted a drink. There should be a bar where the patrons could pour their own drinks, then bartenders would be extinct.
I might be a tad bit drunk.
"Well, err, we were in my truck and Elena looked really sad for some reason. She was holding a ring in her hand and looking down at it as if she was wondering what to do with it. So I asked her," he shrugged, looking surprised that we were both still hanging onto his every word. "She was quiet for a long time, but finally, she asked me what I would do if someone I cared about but not necessarily in love with wanted to marry me. She seemed hesitant and certainly not one who was about to agree to marry someone."
Whoa. So she was not in love with Mason? What did that even mean? Did she accept his proposal because she felt sorry for him? Or was it because she thought she was losing me and her best friend, I wondered with a sinking feeling. Perhaps Care was right. This whole misunderstanding about me being in love with the wrong person was turning into a fiasco.
"But she must have accepted, or she wouldn't be over there now. Mason called it an engagement ring when he was asking if she'd seen it earlier, remember? And Elena knew exactly which pants pocket of his it was in, too," Blondie deducted, and I had to agree with her observations. Elena may not have been acting like an excited bride-to-be, but she was still going to marry him.
"Yeah, I guess that ship has sailed, huh?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
Donovan let out a scoff and rolled his eyes at us. Hey! He totally stole that move from me!
"Seriously, do I really need to spell it out for you two?" he asked with an incredulous look at both of us. Well, he might have to, because I seemed to be missing an important link. "If Elena was engaged, she would be wearing the ring, wouldn't she? A newly engaged woman would never leave her ring in a pocket, let alone in his pants. It sounds a lot more like she rejected his proposal and returned the ring to him, if you asked me."
Matt Donovan is officially the smartest man on the planet.
"I could kiss you," I declared, smiling for the first time since I woke up today.
My favorite bartender shot a worried look over at me at my statement. "But you won't, right? I'll give you a special 'friends-only' discount if you promise you won't."
I pretended to consider his offer for a moment and then leaned in unexpectedly close to his head, making him shrink back in alarm, thinking that I was about to lay one on him. Then I lowered my voice and whispered, "Deal."
Feeling loads lighter, I decided to reward myself with a celebratory drink before I headed home. As soon as I reached out to pick up my drink, Blondie swooped in with her fast and nimble fingers again and regarded me with a cheeky grin before she bottomed-up in one go.
"Aahhhh, you know what? It doesn't taste half-bad once you get the hang of it," she said, smacking her lips loudly. "Anyway, Elena wanted me to find you and stop you from this downward spiral of alcoholism you seem hell-bent to be on after nine years of sobriety, and oh yes, she also asked you to call her."
I nodded my head, acknowledging the request of my brunette beauty, my hand reaching for the remaining shot of Bourbon absently, but this time, it was Donovan who hastily snatched it up right out from my fingers, and then downing it. "Elena," he said simply with a lopsided grin. It was a reminder that she would not be happy if she knew that I had alcohol in my system, not counting the ones already in there before Blondie decided to grace me with her presence.
Groaning in defeat, I stood up quickly, fishing some notes out of my jacket pocket and headed out the door, making a beeline for my car. Not long after, Blondie fell into step beside me.
"Are you going over to see her now? I'll come with, if you are," she offered.
"Nope. I'm going home."
What I didn't tell her was that I was heading home to get Elena's Christmas gifts for her from….somewhere in my room, and then I'd be heading over to Jerkwood's place. This time, I was going to listen to what she had to say, and not leave until I heard her out. Then, and only then, would I make her go home with me. With Blondie, I meant.
Oops.
"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own? Because I don't think you should be left alone without adult supervision, you know? I can't go with you because I promised Elena that I'd go back to check up on her and maybe yell at her a little bit," Blondie said, sounding completely serious and I believed her whole-heartedly. I was very grateful that she came by to check up on me, despite being worried sick over her best friend. Caroline Forbes is perfectly capable of being a sweet person when she's not stealing my drinks from right under my nose.
"Go yell, Care, but be gentle, okay? I'll see you later." I gave her a little wave and then I was off. I found myself going over the entire scene on Elena's doorstep this morning, scrutinizing every single action of hers in an attempt to find a clue that could bring down Donovan's entire theory. She seemed uncomfortable, even tired, but she certainly didn't appear to be acting as if she was about to get married to the jerk.
As far as I was concerned, as long as she hadn't said "I do" then there's still hope.
At that thought, I raced back to the mansion in record time, ignoring my brother who was caught offguard when I burst through the front door and almost knocked him over in my haste to get upstairs. I barely spared him a glance as I ran into my bedroom, my head turning left and right, trying to spot the strewn items I meant to give to Elena last night, before all hell broke loose.
To my relief, I spotted the bear in one corner, then the jewelry box not far from it. I hurried over to pick them up and pondered whether I should take the time to rewrap them until I remembered the phone in my pocket. I fished it out, sliding my thumb across the screen to activate it and saw that I had seven missed calls in total; four from Elena and three from Blondie.
I reset the ringer button so that it was no longer on silent. The message icon was also lit up, signaling that I had an unread message. I decided to view that first and found out that there was a voice mail left for me more than an hour ago. It was probably from Elena, I realized with a guilty pang. Before I could press on the button to play the message, my phone rang, startling me since I had been staring so intently at it.
Blondie.
"If you're calling to check if I've been drinking, I haven't nearly had the time, Ca-"
"Get over here," she cut in, her voice sounding serious for a change. "Get over here, now!"
I couldn't help the panic that started to set in when I heard the tone of her voice. It was shaky and low, as if she was in fear. "What is it? What happened?"
"Damon," she paused, sending my blood pressure skyrocketing. "The front door was wide open when I got here. I-I found some torn clothes on the floor of their bedroom and I can hear the shower running in the bathroom but the door's locked. I've been knocking for ages, but I can't hear anything in there. I don't know what to do."
Okay, now I am officially terrified, I thought to myself. "Keep trying, Care. I'll be there in ten."
I left the house empty-handed, the thought of such trivial things like Christmas presents now far from my mind. Besides, I needed both my hands to pray that I would find Elena in one piece.
I strode through the front door, left wide open as Blondie said. It was dead quiet in the house, the air so still and stiff, I felt as if I could cut through it with a knife. There was an eerie feeling the deeper I walked into the house. I had only been there once prior to this, and that was the day Mr. Cuddles met his untimely death, albeit a temporary one.
It felt as if I was walking into a trap, because the place reminded me of one of those houses in a cheesy horror flick, and I was about to discover that one of my friends had been brutally murdered in the basement. An image of a bloody Caroline popped into my head, because the blonde's always the first one to die, right? At least, that's always the predictable start of the typical horror story.
"Care?" I called out, feeling stupid that I was actually afraid to go any further. What if Mason had done something to Elena, and while I was freaking out while driving over, he'd murdered Caroline and was now burying her body into a wall?
Damn Kevin Williamson and his new series, The Following! It's giving me all sorts of paranoid ideas. I also recently started sleeping with the lights on, just as a precaution.
"Damon? I'm upstairs!" she replied, her voice urgent.
I ran up the stairs, taking two steps at once and in no time, I was face-to-door with a panicked Caroline at my side.
"There's no response from inside, and I tried to pick the lock with a hairpin, but I really don't know what I'm doing," Blondie told me, tears of concern starting to gather in her eyes. "And I found more clues as to what happened here."
I looked over to her and she was pointing at an item on the floor. Recognizing it as Elena's phone, I bent over to pick it up, noting the cracked screen and jagged edges that suggested that it was either thrown or smashed during a scuffle. My heart thudded with fear and my eyes automatically scanned around the room for more clues.
Spotting a discarded bra on the floor near to the bathroom door, I sat down on my hunches and saw that the clasp was broken as if it had been forcibly pulled off. A few feet away, a familiar pair of shorts was lying on the carpet and I recognized it as the one Elena wore the first day she stayed over at Blondie's house. Upon closer inspection, I found it torn apart at the joints.
Nausea came over me at the thought of that monster laying his hands on her that way. Still perched low on the floor, my eyes swept the area where her shorts were strewn, and I managed to spot something that Blondie missed.
Blood marks.
They were smeared and faint, but they were there. I was beating my fists on the bathroom door in two seconds flat. "Elena? Elena, it's Damon. Please answer me!" The terror in my voice must have been obvious, because Caroline was downright hyperventilating as she came to stand beside me.
"What is it, Damon? Please don't scare me!" She was gripping my arm in a painful grip, but I barely registered the pain as I continued to pound at the door.
"He raped her," I answered, my jaws clenched tightly. "That filthy bastard raped her!"
I was beside myself with worry, and there had to be a better way to gain entry into the locked room, so I backed up a few paces and flung myself at the door. The parts of my body that connected with the unyielding material was in pain, but I wasn't about to give up. I repeated the action three more times, each time with more force than the one before and then, suddenly, the door gave way.
I stumbled and fell through the doorway, crashing headfirst into the countertop, and I only managed to narrowly avoid the impact when my hands shot out to grab hold of the surface. I turned my head towards the shower stall and froze when I saw her, my blood turning cold at the sight of her.
Vaguely, I could feel Caroline making her way over to where I stood, still gripping the counter for support, otherwise I'd surely fall to my knees in sorrow. A sob escaped from the girl behind me, but I didn't even turn my head to acknowledge it or provide some kind of comfort. My eyes refused to budge from the disturbing image before me.
"My God, what have you done to yourself, Elena?" came the heartbroken moan from Caroline.
My twitter: cgsa_cher (I talk all sorts of crap all day, Sometimes, I even overshare!)
A shoutout to my very talented beta Kristi (tukct81). Without her, I'd be….sitting on a pavement and crying because of my crappy English. Yay for not crying!
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And yes, I realized that Elena never got to brush her teeth. *shrugs*