Leave me alone, let me be this time.You carry on like a holy man pushing redemption,I don't want to mention, the reason I know.I am stricken and can't let you go. When the heart is cold, there's no hope, and we know that I am crippled by all that you've done;into the abyss will I run. You don't know what your power has done to me;I want to know if I'll heal inside.
-Stricken
Elena limped her way to her room, careful not to step on any of Jeremy's party-hard guests. Clutching her arm, she could still feel Damon's daggered teeth latched onto her veins. Her tendons were crying from agony, and all Elena could do was feel their tears. She saw the blood beginning to clot and dry, and she felt disgusted with herself. His influence was running freely through her body, and she thought uneasily about what damage it might do to her. Sucking in a shaky breath, she wondered if this is what hell felt like: a jail cell in the illusion of home, with demons as watch guards who prowled in the shadows with sadistic desires and intentions for their inmates. Elena promised herself she wouldn't cry; if she did, Damon would have won. He had stolen her body, but he didn't have her soul. Reaching the last step, Elena gazed at the hallway laid before her. Every darkened corner and eerie cranny scared her to death—what if Damon loitered in one, just waiting to attack on her defenseless form? No, she told herself, I'm home; I'm safe. Closing her eyes, Elena felt her body to catch on fire; with a fuel of distress and an ignition of pain. Swallowing thickly, the saliva went down her throat like a match, hitting every edge of her sand-papered esophagus. The fire seemed to burst in her chest, giving her the torturous pain of heartburn. Yet she didn't care; she wanted her heart to burn. If it did, the memory of this night wouldn't matter, and the scars would be ash swirling in her stomach. Elena opened her eyes, and dragged herself to her room.
Elena tore off reminisce of clothing that stuck to her sweating body, chucking it into the deepest corner of her closet. Heaving her chest heavily, she suddenly felt cold utterly nude. Elena rubbed her face, walking in a daze to her dresser. Taking a fresh pair of underwear out and a tank top, Elena quickly dressed and sunk into bed. She didn't care if she stained her sheets with the few bits of blood that still trickled; all she worried about was her crazed mind. She was terrified to fall asleep; if she did, she would dream: and she knew she'd dream of him.
The knife came down heavily on her stomach, slicing her completely in half; yet Elena was still alive—breathing; seeing; feeling. She stared as her halves breathed in unison, and saw her diaphragm pushing down as she took a breath in. Elena watched as her lungs expanded and contracted, and stared at the food she was digesting got churned in her stomach and turned into chyme. Watching her brutalized body function normally, despite the fact that it was in two pieces, brought tears to Elena's eyes, and she could only stare as the tears streamed down her face exactly the same way on both her halves.
"Why am I not dead?" was all Elena's stunned brain could think to say. Who had even dropped the weapon on her anyway? Elena was bewildered with disbelief.
"You always ask the wrong questions," a voice chastised, his voice full of weighted seduction and blackness.
"What question should I be asking then?" Elena replied obediently. What was she saying! Her mind was screeching insults, but she felt them only vibrate in her brain—they could not reach her mouth. The shadowy figure crouched down beside her right half.
"Why did you deserve this punishment," the figure returned monotonously, breathing chilled air over Elena's body.
"Why do I deserve this punishment?" Elena asked simply, repeating her torturer with the upmost compliance. Her captor swirled away into nothing before her eyes though, leaving her forced question to go unanswered.
Suddenly, she felt her body seem to magnetize back together, and she felt as her fibers, cells, muscles, and bones, and fused and melded back into one solid form. Elena had no feelings to describe the sensation; all she wanted now was off of the dungy and damp floor she was on. Her wish was soon granted.
Elena found herself in a hospital bed. Women danced around her in their white gowns, the stiff white ruined with fresh warm red. The gowns flooded with thick and crimson blood, and it was then that Elena noticed the tube shoved into the veins of her wrist: they were sucking the blood from her. Elena tried to scream, but she was drowned out by the women's omniscient humming. They appeared before her like skeletons: corsets of bone ripping at the seams of skin to the mess within. With bloodied veins for the string and fragile fragmented fibers for lace, they looked to be something worse than the devil.
They were twirling their way closer to Elena, their vacant black and dead eyes keeping contact only with Elena's vulnerable form. The women's gowns seeped in all of the blood that was exiting Elena; the mortal could feel her body running out of strength…
Elena woke with a start, and shot up in bed. Running her weak hands over her torso, her tightened chest relaxed slightly when she found herself in one intact piece. Turning her arm over, Elena stared at the fragile veins in her arm: they seemed healthy and carrying an abundance of blood. Falling back onto her pillow, she was plagued with the memory of when Damon had shoved her to the hard floor. She felt her shoulders and back begin to throb. Elena closed her eyes; today was Sunday. Maybe she could just lock herself in her room all day. That way, she'd be safe, and the world would not have to see her wounds.
Rolling over carefully in bed, Elena saw 11:30 plastered on the screen in green dotted numbers. She sighed. Jeremy and his drinking buddies were still probably passed out in the living room; soon to awaken with hangover-induced irritation and aggravation. Elena rubbed her eyes; life truly hated her.
Feeling her phone vibrate to her side, Elena rose in bed, checking the caller ID: Alec. Elena moaned, but pressed the answer button.
"Hello?" Elena asked groggily into the phone.
"Yeah, hi, Elena. Um, what are you doing today?"
"Sleeping," Elena returned, utterly annoyed.
"Oh, cool. Uh, well, since you're up now, did you maybe want to do something today? There's some new movies out that seem pretty cool…"
"Alec," Elena began, "I—I had a pretty rough night, and I just need to regroup." Elena pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Oh yeah; I heard about your brother's party last night: pretty crazy."
"Yeah," Elena bit out, "so I'll see you around." She waited for Alec to say his desperate goodbye before she hung up. Elena flung her phone to the foot of the bed. Crossing her legs, she knew she had to get up. She tried to tell herself that last night hadn't happened, and that her dream was simply a dream. Of course she knew it was all a lie, but sometimes, a lie is much more comforting than the truth. Crawling from bed, she put on a pair of long pajama pants and tugged a sweatshirt over her head.
Heading downstairs, she didn't know what to expect. Observing the mess of food and drinks ground into the carpet, and the empty cups and bottles that littered the tables and any other flat surface, Elena could barely stand the look of it. Searching the sea of passed out teenagers; Elena found Jeremy curled in a ball, asleep in the far corner of the living room. Walking slowly to her brother, she'd rather deal with Jeremy's problems than her own.
"Get up," she whispered harshly as she kicked at Jeremy's side; he didn't wake up. "Jeremy," Elena whispered harsher, kicking him with a tad more force. She watched as Jeremy jerked awake, and looked bewilderedly at Elena.
"What the fuck, man," Jeremy grumbled, curling back into his ball.
"No, you're not going back to bed. Do you see this place?" Elena outstretched her hands to signify the entire room's lack of cleanliness. Harping on Jeremy for his crazy night kept her from laboriously obsessing over her own.
"You're too loud, Elena, shut up," Jeremy groaned as he rubbed his head and eyes. "What time is it?"
"Too late for these people to still be here," Elena shot back, crossing her arms. She regretted the movement, because her torn arm screamed with a silent pain that made Elena cringe.
"Jesus, stop trying to be mom," Jeremy rolled onto his stomach to try and avoid Elena's gaze.
"Well, doesn't matter if I'm like her or not. When she gets home, she's going to kill you if it looks like this."
"Fine, I'll get them to leave. Just—leave me alone, will you? You're giving me a headache." Jeremy rubbed at his temples.
"Yeah, it's definitely me causing your headache," Elena said sarcastically, walking to the front door for some air. Closing the door behind her, she felt her haze of dizziness lifted by the crisp air. Sitting on the front steps, Elena gazed out onto her street. For once, she could fully appreciate simplicity and quietness. As she stared, she saw a figure jogging towards the house. Elena's muscles tightened momentarily until she saw the tight pink sweat suit the person was wearing: it wasn't Damon. As the form got closer, she realized it was Caroline Forbes; just her luck.
"Oh hi, Elena," Caroline cooed sarcastically, slowing her pace in an in-place jog. "Nothing like a good hard run. Oh wait, you wouldn't know."
"Oh, ouch, that burns," Elena replied, sarcasm tangible in her voice.
"You never were very nice," Caroline returned, her act of being the victim in full swing.
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't call you a saint either," Elena drawled. She was too tired and weak to play Caroline's petty little game.
"Ugh, I'm so lucky that I stopped being friends with you when I did." Caroline flipped her bangs from her eyes.
"Ditto," Elena replied, echoing Caroline's earlier sarcastic cooing. Elena plastered a brilliant smile on her face, and rose from her seat. Caroline just gave her a look of disgust, running on. Elena rolled her eyes as she watched the blonde try and pick up her pace. Only a few houses up the road, Caroline slowed back down to a pace that could be mistaken for a walk.
Losing interest in Caroline's stupidity quickly, Elena began to pace. For some reason, she could not stay still. After experiencing the horror she did last night, Elena expected to be barely able to life her head. Yet, she could not stop from moving. Maybe it was her body's reflex and response to such a traumatic experience, and its way to try and forget the pain.
As she paced, she noticed another figure approaching. Telling herself it was another runner, she boldly stayed outside, finding her seat on the porch steps once more. Elena forced herself not to look at the form coming closer. Glancing quickly, she saw the form was in all black; Elena's heart began to race. What if it was Damon? Was he calling upon her again already? Elena bit her lip; she knew she didn't have the power to say no or to run. But why had this monster targeted her anyway? What was he even? She felt an odd déjà vu from her dream, and she felt sick to her stomach.
Sensing the person's closeness, Elena turned to find Damon sitting on the steps next to her. His eyes were back to their brilliant blue, his face with a vacant smile, and perfectly pale skin; no horrifying streaks of blood.
This was not good.
Alrighty, so this is simply a filler chapter. With the dream, I have no idea what was going through my mind; I kind of just wrote the first ideas that popped into my head. I probably sound insane. Haha. Anyway, for the next chapter, what kind of torture should it be? I'd love your ideas, dear readers! Thank you for all who reviewed, by the way, it means a lot! Please keep 'em coming. They really do help me.
Be good and review!