UPDATED 11-7-13
CHAPTER 11:
Time stops frozen as Damon and I burst through the motel door, the wooden panel ricochetting off of the wall. We're all hands, feeling each other as if we've just been blessed with the ability. With every inch of my body that he touches, he leaves behind a trail of flames, blazing to life within my blood.
Slam.
As Damon slams the door shut, I moan in anticipation. I've never felt like this before. I've never felt this desire before. I've never felt like there was an animal inside of me, waiting to be unleashed. Suddenly, Damon backs me into the wall, and I nearly call out in plea. Instantly, my hands clench his silky raven hair, and Damon moans in response.
"Christ," he hisses as he pushes himself further onto me. "You. Bed. Now."
Those words are my Achilles' Heel, and my siren as I move over to the waiting bed. Once I'm standing at the side, Damon comes up behind me and laces his arms around my waist.
"Take your dress off," he breathes, and my stomach clenches in anticipation.
Without hesitation, I reach down to the hem of my dress and grip it. As I pull it gently over my head, Damon scoffs.
"Here," he says, and in an instant, I'm standing in front of him in nothing but my lace black bra and matching underwear.
Just as I move to sit on the bed, Damon grabs my hand, willing me to look at him.
For what seems like forever, we just stand there gazing into each other's eyes.
"So beautiful," He whispers as he sets his hands on my waist. He pulls me towards him, and I gasp in surprise just as his lips meet mine.
"Please," I moan, and he takes advantage, his tongue entering into my mouth.
No more words are exchanged as we move onto the bed. The soft and plush feeling of the mattress comforts me as Damon presses me down into the center.
Slowly, Damon and I work together to rid ourself of all of our clothes, until it's just us and the bed sheets.
And I don't regret it when we become one.
My eyes flutter open as I feel something against my cheek. It takes me only a moment to realize that it's Damon's lips. He must think I'm asleep.
"So beautiful."
And I close my eyes, silently sleeping once more.
As the sunlight peeks through the curtains, my eyes open. I feel as if I've had the best sleep in my life. As I look around the room, I notice the beautifully crafted Persian rug at the side of the bed, and the clothes that lay on top of them.
Immediately, I shoot up in bed.
Wait.
This isn't my room.
This isn't my rug.
I don't even own a rug.
As my mind starts playing visions of a very late and passionate night, I swallow in realization.
I just slept with my sister's fiancé.
In a motel.
As I hear a soft moan, I slowly turn over on my side, and to my surprise, Damon is wide awake, eyeing me carefully, thoughtfully.
"Hi," He says softly, a warm gleam in his eyes.
"Hi," I smile shyly, reminded that I'm in nothing but a bed sheet for attire. Despite what happened last night, I still feel self-conscious in front of a man without any clothes on. Even if that man is Damon.
"Hey," he frowns, and I notice that I'm pulling the sheets further up, wanting to shield myself.
"Don't hide," he tells me, and as I look into his eyes, I feel as if they're sucking all of the oxygen out of my lungs.
"It wasn't right," I sigh, retiring my attempt to hide. "Last night,"
At my words, Damon's face falls.
"Elena-"
"How can we justify what happened between us last night?' I ask, my guilt slowly pouring over me.
"Because it wasn't just a one-night stand," Damon explains. "We have feelings, real feelings for each other. What more justification do we need?"
"You're married to Katherine." I remind him sadly.
"I'm engaged to her, Elena. Not married to her." He shakes his head, and just hearing him say it makes my heart flutter, even though I know it's wrong.
"Well, you're as good as," I say.
"Listen to me," Damon says, and his hands cup my faec tenderly. "If I still wanted a future with your sister, then I wouldn't be here with you,"
"What?" I breathe, taken by his admission.
"Before we met, I was fine with Katherine. Sure, she was a little demanding and selfish at times, but it was worth the good." he admits softly. "But when we met," he gestures between us, "Everything that I didn't like about Katherine was magnified. And as I spent more time with you, I realized that I couldn't be happy with just 'fine'. I couldn't endure the bad just to get to the good."
"And what makes you think that I'm any better than Kat?" I ask.
"Because you are not Katherine." he insists. "You are the exact opposite of everything that she is."
Deciding that I have no more argument in me, nor any desire to argue anymore, I drop my case.
Immediately, Matt's visit pops into my mind.
"I should go," I say, reaching down for my bra. I need to go see Trudy. And I need to go before Jeremy wakes up. He can't go with me.
"Why?" Damon frowns.
"I have to do something," I tell him as I slide my dress back on.
"Alright," he says softly, disappointment in his voice,
Immediately guilt consumes me as I remind myself that I can't tell him what I'm doing. Why I came back to town. And it's not because I don't trust him. It's because I don't want him to get hurt.
Suddenly, as I turn around to look at him, I don't know what to say.
"I'll see you," he says with a warm smile.
"You, too," I nod, and like that, I'm gone.
As I walk out of the room and into the hall, I'm hit in the face with the obvious.
I have no ride home.
Damon drove me to the party.
Just as I'm about to knock on the door and ask for a lift, I realize that that is a suicide mission. No one needs to see Damon drop me off at my house when I've been gone all night.
So another idea pops into my head.
Sighing, I pull out my phone, crossing my fingers that Bonnie's awake.
As the line rings, I think of what to say to her. I can't tell her that I've been at a motel with my sister's fiance all night.
"Hello?"
"Bonnie," I sigh in relief.
"Hey, Elena. What's up?" She asks, concern bleeding through the phone.
"I need a favor," I say.
"Thanks for the lift," I say as I climb into Bonnie's periwinkle Fusion. Ellie Goulding's "Anything Could Happen" plays from Bonnie's iPod.
"No problem," she waves her hand. "So, what were you doing at this run-down motel, again?"
"Stefan brought me here last night after I crashed. He doesn't know where I live," I say, even though the idea sounds pathetic.
"And he couldn't have asked Damon?" Bonnie frowns in misunderstanding.
"He wouldn't answer his phone," I lie.
"So, I was thinking," Bonnie says suddenly, changing the subject thankfully. "Do you want to go grab some lunch?"
"I would love to," I tell her honestly, "But I can't."
"Why not?" Bonnie scoffs.
"Matt stopped over before I left last night." I tell her. "He found an address for a woman who wrote the obituary for my parents after they died. Bonnie, she knew them."
"And you're going to see her." Bonnie says.
I nod. "There's one more thing," I add nervously.
At Bonnie's raised eyebrows, I continue.
"She's apparently had a record with the law." I say.
"What?" Bonnie gasps. "And you're going to see her?!" she cries.
"I need answers," I tell her. "And I'm going to see her today."
"Then I'm coming with you." she says.
"Bonnie-"
"Either I come with you, or you don't go at all." she snaps.
"Alright!" I sigh in frustration. "But we need to go now."
"Well," Bonnie announces, sighing as she shifts the gear into PARK. The car jolts fractionally as an aftershock. "We're here," she says.
As Bonnie's words settle into my mind, my stomach sinks all the way to China. We've traveled four hours to Trudy's house. This woman may be my only hope at truly finding out what happened to my parents. If she can't help me, then I don't know where to go from here.
"Elena," Bonnie says quietly. I glance over at her. "Ready?" Concern lingers in her green eyes as her hands slide down to unbuckle her seatbelt.
"Yeah," I take a deep breath as I reached for my buckle. "I'll be right back." I say as I hastily step out of the car. I'm already walking up the concrete path when I hear the sound of Bonnie opening the driver's door then slam it shut. Sighing, I slow my steps as I turn around to face her.
"What the hell?" Bonnie yells, hastily walking toward me.
"I need to do this alone, Bonnie," I tell her.
"You don't even know this woman!" She exclaims. "She could feed you a bunch of lies!"
"That's what I came here for," I reminded her. "To find out what she knows."
"She's a wanted suspect, Elena! She could be dangerous!" Bonnie waves her hands in front of me, trying to make me see the obvious.
"I know," I admit. "But you'll be out here if something goes wrong, and I can handle myself," I defend. "And what did you expect? That we would drive all the way out here, enjoy the view, and then leave?"
"Honestly, I don't know what I thought we'd do." Bonnie sighs. "This was a stupid idea," she pats her face as if she's half asleep.
"No, it wasn't. I need answers. I can't just go on not knowing what happened to them, Bonnie." I tell her her, trying to convince her.
"Fine." Bonnie sighs, tossing her hands in the air, forfeiting. "But, I swear, if you are not out here in ten minutes, I'm coming in there. With backup."
"I'll be back," I nod, relieved. Once Bonnie retires to the car, I turn back toward the house.
As I make my way toward the porch, a better glimpse of the house emerges. Despite the fact that it's a beautiful property, the house seems old and out of place. It's a dark and shabby house, the color of mahogany. Based on the fact that it seems vacant all of a sudden, I begin to suspect that this isn't the right address. It's two floors tall, pitch-black shutters framing the windows, knocking on the concrete with the wind. As I step onto the porch, I notice that the front door is cracked open.
Moving towards it, I push the door open a bit more, and a creaking noise emerges as a result.
Suddenly panic washes over me as I glance around quickly for any sign of anyone. If this is the wrong house, which is possible, then the last thing I want is to get arrested for trespassing.
"Hello?"
The voice sounds closer than she thought. No, I can't get caught. This isn't the right house. I need to get out of here, answers or no answers. As I back up, I hear a cough.
Whipping around, I gasp in disbelief.
Trudy Peterson stands in front of me.
Blonde golden locks fall in waves down her front, just below her rib cage. Warm green eyes smile at me, but something tells me they're anything but warm. Trudy tilts her head as she looks me square in the eye.
"Can I help you?" she asks softly.
I blink. "Sorry.. The door was open.." I say, turning back toward the door. To my complete surprise, it's closed.
"Do you know Miranda and John Gilbert?" I ask.
At the mention of my parents, Trudy gasps.
"You're their daughter," she breathes.
I nod.
"I have some questions about them. You worked with them when they were with the government?" I ask.
"I did." Trudy nods. "Why don't you come on in?" She offers, moving aside.
"Thank you," I nod politely as I enter the house. If she wasn't stapled to a suspect list, then I wouldn't be cautious of her behavior.
"What do you want to know?" She asks when we sit at her table.
"How long did you know my parents?" I ask.
Trudy sighs as she leans back in her chair. "I grew up with Miranda. She was my best friend. She lived across the street from me. We were on the cheerleading squad together." The hint of sentimentality in Trudy's voice tells me that she's still in shock. And I don't blame her. She lost her best friend.
"Your father, I met when your mother met him. He was in the same department as me, and he was one hell of a worker."
I smile at the sound of my father's personality. "He was."
"And then, when your parents married, they retired from their jobs to take care of you and your brother and sister. They didn't want that life for you guys."
"So you hadn't spoken to them since then?" I raise my eyebrows in shock.
Trudy shakes her head sadly. "I wish that I had. You know, one last time."
At the topic of their deaths, I take a chance.
"Do you know how they died?" I ask. I know there's something I don't know. Maybe she has a different story.
"What do you mean? They died in the flight 492 crash." She frowns.
"Then why didn't you say that in your obituary?" I ask, and as Trudy gasps, I pull out the paper.
"Where did you get that?" She breathes, fear consuming her.
"It doesn't matter." I tell her.
Trudy's mouth opens and closes several times, and I know I'm onto something.
Immediately, she stands up from her seat. "You need to leave. Now." She snaps.
"What?" I frown, confused. "But I just-"
"Please. Leave!" She hisses.
"After you tell me why you are on a wanted suspects list."
"How did you-?" She gasps in fear. As I glance down in annoyance, I spot a duffel bag inside of a cupboard, with cash inside.
"Is that cash?" I cry, and realization pops. "That's why you're running away, isn't it? You robbed a bank, and you don't want to get caught."
Immediately, Trudy slams the cupboard door shut, and I flinch at the harshness.
"I didnt rob a bank! I'm above the criminal life." She sneers. "Why I'm leaving doesn't concern you,"
"Yes, it does! I know something happened to my parents and I want to know what!" I yell. "So it sure as hell concerns me!"
After ages, Trudy finally speaks. "I was framed for murder." she says quietly.
Holy crap.
"What?" I gasp.
"I was framed for a murder," she repeats more sternly.
"No, I-I heard you…. I'm just trying to understand," I breathe.
"So you're wanted because you committed a murder?" I ask, confused.
"Framed. I was framed for committing a murder," she snaps.
"You should turn yourself in," I suggest.
"But I didn't kill anyone!" She says, exaggerated.
"Why don't you tell the police that?" I ask quietly.
She scoffs. " You think for one second that they would believe me?" her voice rises.
"Well, if you explain it-" I suggest.
"If it worked like that, then half of the people in jail would be free," she snaps.
What do I do? I can't leave, not without knowing the truth. And if she's in hiding because she's been framed for a murder, then she won't tell me anything right now.
I realize something.
"I'll go with you," I offer.
Trudy eyes me warily, I think, considering my offer.
"Please," I say softly.
Trudy looks at me, as if she is not believing this. I continue to look at her as she looks down at the floor. Her eyes shoot open. A moment later, she looks at me, impassive.
"Fine," she snaps.
What?
"Okay," she says, sighing. "I'll go explain the story," she says.
Thank god.
"Thank you," I say sincerely.
"Whatever," she sighs. "I'll go get my bag," she walks away and into another room.
I let out my long-held breath. Bonnie was wrong.
Bonnie. Crap! I pull my phone out. I press the home button. Nothing happens. I hold down the power button. The screen ignites. How did it get turned off? As the home screen emerges, I see two messages.
Bonnie B: What the hell is taking so long?
Bonnie B: If your not out here in five minutes, I'm coming in. WITH the police.
The last message came at 4:56. I check my watch. 4:58. Sighing with relief, I type a response.
Me: Be out in a minute.
After I see the MESSAGE SENT, I wander around the house. In the room that Trudy disappeared into, I see two paintings. The most alluring one is of three young women, sisters I presume, smiling. There is something about the painting, though, that unsettles me. As I am trying to figure out what that is, I hear a gasp.
Walking quietly around the corner, I spot Trudy through a curtain. I can't tell if she knows that I see her or not. I am about to walk away when I notice what she has in her hand.
A faint whimper escapes from her lips as her hand flies to her stomach, the prescription bottle making a clanking sound as it meets with the hard floor. Trudy hazily shifts on her feet, her eyelids struggling to stay open as she collapses onto the ground.
I stare at her, dumbfounded. Holy crap!
NO!
Oh, my god! What the-? I dart out from behind the curtains and bend to grab the prescription bottle at my feet.
Oh, my god.
She just killed herself.
Oh, my god.
What the-?
How-?
Why-?
As I abandon the overwhelming amount of questions in my mind, I twirl the orange prescription bottle in my hands, my curiosity and astonishment stretching as I examine it.
And that's when I see it.
Prozac.
Wait...
Anti- Depressants?
Suddenly, I hear sirens in the distance. Immediately, I stuff the prescription bottle into my pocket and scramble toward the door. I know that I shouldn't steal evidence from a crime scene, but something is telling me that I should. Especially now that my fingerprints are dripping over the bottle. I wouldn't mind being questioned about what I've just witnessed, but if I were questioned, then the questions that will be asked will be the ones that I can't answer
So instead of contemplating, I abandon my sudden guilt just as I reach the main room, my feet decide right now to be clumsy, and I fall onto the floor with a thud.
When I pick my head up-which feels numb- my eyes make contact with a white pice of paper lying under the end table by the staircase.
A moth to a flame, I lunge out and stretch my arm for the paper, pulling it out of the dusty atmosphere that it's been confined to for God-knows-how-long.
Instead of a piece of paper, It's a sealed envelope in my hands. When I see the address on the face, I frown in confusion.
Nadia Grey
Roseland, VA
Who the hell is Nadia Grey?
My mind is shouting at me not to abandon this envelope, so I hastily fold the envelope up into fours and shove it into the pocket opposite the prescription bottle. My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, and when the sirens become louder, I pull it out, and Bonnie's face smiles up at me.
"Police!" A loud voice cries, and I stuff my phone into my back pocket, my pulse racing. "We have the place surrounded! There's no way out!"
I need to get out of here, but evidently, all of my options have abandoned me.
And then suddenly, I feel a sharp blow on the back of my head,
And all goes black.
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PS: Please check out my other TVD/DE stories Bitten: The Marked,it's sequels Bitten: The Hunted & Bitten: The Saved, The Other Side of Me, Star Crossed and Shelter.I'dREALLY appreciate it :)
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Soundtrack that inspired/were mentioned in this chapter:
THEME SONG: Bad Things~ Meiko
Runaway ~ Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Animal ~ Neon Trees
My Blood ~ Ellie Goulding