Hello all you lovely people! Thanks for tuning in!
Really quickly, just going to address the amounts of harsh reviews over grammar. For the record I do most of my writing and editing late into the night, and am usually pretty eager to get the next chapter up, so I may not be as thorough as I should be :) and I didn't think I needed to clarify this, but just in case, I do not have a professional editor! This is a fun fanficiton I started for myself as a hobby, and now I'm sharing it with you :) I do enjoy your suggestions and constructive criticisms, but I would ask for some lenience, as it is not a published work of writing, and it is, (and please don't hate me for saying this), just fun fan fiction :)
I will do my part and make an effort to pay closer attention to the spelling of names, and such, and in return, please just enjoy the story for what it is, don't be snarky in the comments, don't take it toooo seriously, and have fun reading :)
ANYWAY! Please let me know what you guys think of where the story is headed, and if you have any suggestions or comments, holler them out in the review section :D Thanks!
-Cheers :)
P.S. This is kinda a heavier chapter, but I feel like it's about time for a little bit more drama, cause, let's be honest, it's e, lets be honest, it's TVD!
Caroline's point of view
I contemplate knocking, but the possibility of someone coming to the door, and me having to explain myself keeps me from doing so.
I sigh with frustration, looking down at my hoodie and faded jeans. This really does need to be done.
The heavy door falls ajar easily as I step into the huge house, the smell of him hits me first and I hate the warmth that trickles through me at the memory... So close I can taste him on the tip of my tongue...
I peek around the immediate area, listening for any sort of movement. I feel like a thief sneaking around. I contemplate turning around and marching out of the house... Then I remember my hideous outfit.
I take the stairs two at a time, the runner that lays down the middle of the grand staircase mutes my footsteps nicely.
I take the familiar turn to his bedroom, following the hallway until I come to the heavy oak door. It's closed; the sunlight that shines from under it flickers mildly. I frown, and after waiting a few minutes, come to the conclusion there's no one inside.
It's the light from the window that casts shadows on the floor and walls of the simplistic bedroom. The trees make beautiful music through the open windows, making the place feel unbelievably comfortable and at home. The fresh air interrupts my train of thought, and I forget momentarily why I'm here.
I scan the room for my bag, and find that it's been moved from its place near the bed.
I frown, walking over to the closet, finding it tucked away, empty.
Ugh!
Frustration setting in, I begin going through drawers, pulling out dressers and rummaging through stacks of clean cloths.
"That's right Nik, hide my stuff so I can't leave," I mumble to myself, pulling out the last drawer of the large oak dresser, my hands freeze.
My things.
Clothes, socks, shoes, the bracelet given to me as a gift from him, toothbrush... Everything tucked away in this small space. As if that's where it's belonged all along.
Unexpected tears spring to my eyes as I stare down at the contents of the drawer... The smallest of gestures nearly breaking my heart as I witness the man that I once hated, the monster I thought I knew so many months ago... making room for me in his messed up little world.
That familiar, god-awful buzzing noise strikes up from the ensuite bathroom, causing me to jump; bringing me back from my lost moment.
Hastily swiping the tears away, I push the drawer closed quietly.
Taking lazy, tentative steps in the direction of the noise, I cross my arms, my heart hammering in my chest at the thought of him just around the corner.
The door to the bathroom is left open slightly. Enough that I'm able to peer inside, whilst also keeping a slight distance.
I see his back first, my gaze gliding up his shoulders and neck. Leaning a little so I can see his face, his hands lifting the electric shaver to his jaw.
Memories of that first night I spent here play back in my mind. The unbearable happiness I felt, still flickers, deep to my core. Trying its hardest to burst through this turmoil, shine through my like it did not so long ago.
The razor cuts out abruptly. I watch as he sets it down carefully, rubbing his jaw absentmindedly as he looks down at the bathroom counter. I struggle to see what he's looking at, but the crack in the door doesn't allow full visual access.
Then, to my surprise, he begins to rub shaving cream between his hands, lathering it up and distributing it all over his sexy stubble.
"What're you doing?" I ask, taking a step forward, pushing the door the rest of the way open and crossing my arms.
His expression is priceless.
Amused, confused, happy and sad all at the same time.
"Good evening love, if I'd known all I'd have to do was shave to get you to finally speak to me again, I may have done this a while ago."
He's making fun.
"What're you doing?" I repeat my question as he rinses the excess shaving cream from his hands, and picks up a razor.
Quirking an eyebrow at my in the mirror, he continues with the task at hand.
"I thought that might have become obvious Sweetheart."
"You're never clean shaven." I say, a little quieter.
He pauses, the razor hovering close to his face, ready to make the first swipe.
"Does this bother you Love?"
He asks it like a joke, but in honesty, it does. I think I remember seeing him clean shaven once, back in sophomore year, when he first showed up in town. I'd not given his facial hair much thought back then. But since knowing him, I'd never seen him without it. To be honest, I love it, though I'm not sure I've ever told him so.
"Do what you want," I shrug it off, "it's your face,"
With a daring twinkle in his eye, he drags the razor across his cheek, leaving a clean, smooth, straight line.
He quickly drops the dramatic show, and gets caught up in finishing the job.
I turn back into the room, going to the drawer, and pulling out a more acceptable outfit. This old sweater and one pair of jeans is the only thing I haven't worn twice this week. Since most of my clothes are kept here, it seemed like this was the only option.
Quickly removing my clothes, I slip on dark blue jeggings, a cream blouse, and a pair of flats.
I hear the tap turn off in the bathroom, and when I turn around, he's standing in the doorway, drying his face with a towel.
He looks younger, gentler; almost youthful. I blink at him, trying to tear my eyes away from this beautiful man in front of me. Trying desperately to remember that I'm angry with him. That I haven't yet forgiven him.
"Y-you put my stuff away..." Pull. Yourself. Together.
His eyes harden only a fraction.
Taking cautious steps toward me, he crosses the room slowly. He smells like soap; his eyes distract me as he draws in, closing the space between us.
"What are you thinking?" He's so close I could lean into him, hug myself close to him the way I've done so many times before. Absorb his warmth and let him take me places I didn't know existed. Make me feel things I didn't know I could...
My heart starts pounding faster, drumming in my ears.
"I..." Reaching out to me, he tucks a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my neck, setting aflame to the delicate skin there. Pinching my earlobe between his thumb and index finger, I melt.
"No," I flinch away from him, the fear and dread creeping back into my stomach, icy cold. His hand remains in mid air, inches away from me now, as if willing me to come close once again. Let him touch me the way he does that makes me go crazy... He's looking at me like if he made any sudden movements, I would gallop away like a deer, fast and unwitting of anything I'd leave behind.
"I thought you were worth it," The words scratch my throat, even as I say them, they taste like bile. "Worth hurting my family... My friends. Risking everything, putting it all on the line... the inevitable heart break..." The fight in my voice is dull, and the hurt begins seeping through. No matter how much I love him, I can't stop picturing him, with her. Them. Together, the way we were together...
"Whose?" His tone matches mine. Quiet and careful.
"Both."
He turns to stone. He doesn't even breathe. As I feel myself withdraw, I feel him deflate.
"Come back," determination replacing the fear in his voice, he sounds almost angry, though his eyes tell a different story. Stepping forward, his hands clasp the sides of my face, leaning down the touch his forehead to mine, his embrace is desperate. Chilling. I take a deep breath through my nose, absorbing every bit of him I can.
"Sweetheart please," Klaus rarely begs. Klaus never begs.
"I..." There's frail conviction in my voice, about to shatter into a million pieces.
"Come back to me..."He breathes...
"Hellooo? Come back, earth to Caroline!"
I snap out of the memory almost painfully.
"What?" I gasp, sitting up straighter, looking around me.
My mom's eyes look worried and amused at the same time.
"You alright?"
I'm sitting on the deck in the backyard, remembering I said something about helping with yard work, though I haven't exactly been useful.
"Yeah, yeah sorry, I must've... Dosed off."
"You were here, and then you were just off in your own little world." She eyes me, as if expecting me to keel over, pass out, anything.
"I'm fine," I assure her, standing from the steps and wiping the back of my jeans off before picking up my glass of untouched iced tea, and heading into the house.
"You sure?"
"I'm fine!" I call out to her before closing the door behind me, taking a long, steady breath in.
Dumping my drink down the sink, I brace myself on the counter, thinking back to my times with him makes me physically ill. Like that feeling you get when you're a child and away from your parents. That sinking feeling of missing them so much, you can only focus of when you'll get to see them again.
Home sick for someone so much I can't function.
I swallow hard against the tears thick in my throat, and take the stares two at a time up to my bedroom. Maybe I can sleep off this feeling of complete and utter loneliness.
Doubtful.
XXX
I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake up, it's nearly dark outside. I check my watch, 8:01PM. And my head pounds uncomfortably.
I tune into the activity around the house, and hear nothing.
"Mom?" I call out, but with no reply.
A note in the kitchen informs me she's been called into work, shocking.
A creaking noise from the back patio causes me to jump. Sounding like footsteps, I narrow my eyes, thinking for a second if it could be Klaus.
I take a cautious step in the direction of the sound, but when I turn the corner into the kitchen, it's empty.
"Get a hold of yourself." I whisper outloud, my heart rate returning to its regular pace.
"Yes Caroline, get a hold of yourself."
I don't even have time to scream. To move, or run. The familiar voice is chilling and frightening and unbearably threatening.
A heavy hand clamps down around my mouth, defeats any hopes of a cry for help.
"Now I need you to keep very calm," His voice hisses in my ear, making me jerk and moan, his free hand capturing both of my wrists behind my back in a crushing grip. "There there," His lips brush my temple, his breath against my skin. I shiver and my stomach turns. "Just breathe Caroline, I just have a few questions."
I drive my elbow into the soft place just below his ribs, and he groans, his grip loosening on my hands only slightly. Enough that I'm able to free one of my hands, and with it, I throw myself forward, reaching for the back door handle, gripping onto it with all my strength, the medal bending slightly under my fingers.
His quick recovery is unnerving, and he's already regrouping, fastening his long fingers around my shoulder, digging in. I cry out, and his hand scrambles to re-cover my mouth.
"So he thinks he can just say no to me, go on living his life, you by his side as his trophy." I wriggle in his death grip. "Let's see how strong he is when he loses everything that matters to him."
I sink my sharp fangs into his palm, hard and fast.
Yelling, he loses his grip on me.
I'm out of his reach; I'm out the door, and into the trees.
I press the buttons on my cell phone hard, my finger shaking too much and I have to end the call and try again. It takes me three tries to hit the correct buttons. Using the back of my hand to wipe his hot blood away as it trickles down my chin.
One ring.
I trip on an exceptionally large tree root, nearly falling.
Two rings.
I stop, bracing myself against a tree, the bark rough on my slick palm.
Three rings.
"Damn it Elena, pick UP!"
Four rings.
"Hello?"
"Elena!" I gasp, my breath short, I check over my shoulder and force myself to move again.
"Caroline? What is it, what's wrong?" The worry in her voice is quick and obvious.
"Elena, Marcel, he's here, he's at my house!"
"What?!"
"He attacked me in my kitchen! Elena—"
"Where are you?"
"I don't know," I glance around the area, trees all around, how long have I been running?
"Caroline, is he still at your house? Is he following you?"
"I don't know!" Tears sting my eyes painfully, my throat burns as I run.
"Caroline, I'm with Damon, can you get to the boarding house?"
I stop moving, closing my eyes and breathing deeply through my nose. Catching the scent of deep-fried chicken and hamburger grease.
"I'm near the main road," I breathe in relief, "I can get there."
"Hurry."
I fumble for the end button, shoving the phone back into my jacket and quickly glancing around my immediate area. No signs of him.
Leaning forward I brace my hands on my knees, catching my breath. "Okay Caroline, get yourself the hell out of here."
XXX
"Hey!" Stefan's voice scares me, I yelp and whirl, looking in his direction. But he's not looking at me; he's looking past me, behind me. Goose bumps spring through my skin.
"Caroline!"
"Elena?"
My head spins. Strong hands grab me, pull me back, we stumble backwards into a tree. Scratchy hands grab me around the throat.
"He's gonna hate me, but you know, it'll be worth it to watch him suffer." The venom in his voice is frightening. I feel the point of a wooden stake scrape against my back, tearing through my jacket, scratching the bare skin across my spine.
"Goodbye Mrs. Michaelson."
Ouch.
I brace myself for the piercing pain of the wood to drive through my skin, into my heart, stopping it dead.
And then, when it doesn't come, everything goes very, very still.
The steak falls away from my skin, and the hand against my throat. I'm suddenly very cold without Marcel's body crushed against mine. Everything aches.
I force myself to open my eyes. The tears that seep through my eyelashes and bleed down my face almost hurt.
Elena, Stefan, Damon, all staring at me. Staring at us.
Turning away from them, it's a scene I'll never forget...
Klaus, my Nik, in front of me. His hand extended towards me, as if to reach out and touch me. But clutched in his fist, a fresh, bloody, scarcely beating heart. The spattering of blood across his face and the collar of his white shirt. Marcel's body, lying limp and lifeless between the two of us.
The look on his face, the look in those eyes...
Rage, hate, regret, shock, betrayal, relief, unbearable grief... Unreadable.
"Nik," I breathe, hardly audible, his name getting lost in the open space of the forest. The silence hurts, the only sound is the one of blood dripping from the organ in his hand, the heart of his oldest friend. He killed. He killed for me.
And that's when the tears come. And they don't stop.
Intense. Review? Will update shortly :)