The next time I wake up, I don't even bother to open my eyes. I can feel that I'm on something slightly more comfortable than the floor and that my wrists are strapped down, palms up. It's a dark space, windowless, one small lamp on a wall by the door. For a moment, I think I feel better, and I wonder if Klaus found a molecule of compassion in him and gave me medical care. I take a deep breath and quickly realize there are still broken pieces in me, ribs probably scraping against organs, God only knows how many splinters floating around in my blood.

Damon isn't coming for me. Either he's decided it's impossible to save me or he thinks I'm dead, but he's not coming. I let the tears fall out of the corners of my eyes without even trying to stop them. I would rather die right now than know that all of this time, and all of this progress in our relationship, it all amounts to this. To nothing. I can't take this. I need him here. I need him to be here to save me, even though I always swore I didn't want that from him.

For once, I'm thankful when the door opens because it keeps me from hyperventilating over Damon. I keep my eyes closed, but I can hear the quiet shuffle of Klaus' feet as he moves towards me. He stops at my side and pauses.

"Elena," my eyes shoot open immediately when it's not the voice I expect. Instead, Stefan stands over me, pity in his eyes. "You don't have to be afraid. I know he's coming for you."

"What?" The word is the quietest whisper. I can't breathe. Damon's coming for me? "How do you know?"

"Don't worry about it. I just know." He bends down so that his face is level with mine, "Now, listen to me. When the time comes, you'll have to run. There won't be a warning or a signal. There's no sign I can give you, but you'll know when it's time. And then you run. Do you understand?"

My eyes search his, desperate to know if he's telling the truth or if this is some sick joke, a way to give me hope only to rip it away, a way to repay me for choosing his brother. I nod at him, and the tears start flowing again. I turn my head away from him and let them fall. By the time I compose myself and turn back, he's gone.

Two more miserable days pass from what I can tell, and I'm constantly terrified I've missed the untold sign. I don't know if I'm waiting for an explosion or if Damon will show up. I don't even know where I am, if I'm still in New Orleans, where I would run to if I even got free.

Three days after Stefan's warning, I'm drowning in grief, convinced he was lying to me to ensure that I felt the pain of betrayal and abandonment that he feels. I'm laying on the hard mattress, my arms still strapped down, eyes closed, fighting with all I have not to give into the tears and thoughts that overwhelm me.

With a subtle rush of air, I feel a slight difference in the room. I open my eyes slowly and glance around me. Nothing has changed, no one else is in here. I glance down at my wrists and notice that the ties that held them are dangling, no longer attached. I turn my head sharply to look and pay for my haste in the pain that rips through my skull. I take a deep breath and look up for any sign that there's someone in the room with me or something that's going to help me get out of here. I'm positive there is no one else in the room, but I'm also positive that this is my time to run.

I scoot out of the bed as quickly as I can. I suck in a breath as the magnitude of all my broken bones washes over me. It's almost unbearable. I truly don't understand how I'm going to get out of here, but I know this is my only chance. I push through the pain and step from the bed, just now realizing I haven't really been on my feet in two weeks. This should be fun.

My feet on the ground, I take a step towards the door, holding my breath. Nothing happens, so I step again. Step after step, I make it to the door and open it silently, peeking through the crack. There's a hallway in front of me and curved staircase to my right. Clearly I'm being held in a house, though I still have no idea where. There's no sign of anyone, and as much as I'm scared, I know I need to run. I know that I can't hesitate. If Stefan is betraying me, I'll find out soon enough.

I take one last glance around the deserted hallway, and then I go for it. As fast as my legs can take me, I'm down the stairs, not bothering to hold the railing, knowing the pain in my wrist and fingers will probably cause me to scream and ruin everything. The front door is in front of me, and I manage to make it there, too. In front of me is a vast yard of lush, green grass. Beyond it, a forest, and I know that's where I'm going. I take off for the trees, not taking the time to look around me, not smart enough to fear the wide open space.

When I'm ten yards from the trees, I hear a venomous voice scream, "ELENA!" Pure rage and hatred coats Klaus' voice, and it's clear he will not let me get away. I stop dead in my tracks and force myself to turn towards him slowly. I can only hope that he kills me in anger and doesn't go back to the torture and pain that I've endured this week. His face is telling me that he will have no such mercy. He takes a step towards me, not even bothering with his vampire speed, knowing I can never escape him anyway. After two or three steps, he stops. His brow creases and his face contorts. Another second and he's on the ground, clutching his temples and groaning in pain. It catches me off guard, but I know there's only one thing that can cause that kind of pain in a vampire. I look around to find the witch who's hurting him, silently begging that it's not Bonnie.

I catch her eyes from across the yard, and I breathe a sigh of relief when it isn't Bonnie, though this woman looks like she could be her cousin. I don't know who she is, but that clearly doesn't go both ways. She speaks calm and strong across the open space, her hand still outstretched toward Klaus' crumpled body, "Elena. Run, now."

And I do.