Chapter 5: Damon's Dilemma
I can't stop thinking about the girl. The smartass, doesn't-know-she's-beautiful girl that lied next to me in the middle of the road.
She had to be crazy, right? Who in their right mind would do something like that?
I was a vampire for Christ's sake. Her natural instincts should have had her screaming and running in the other direction. Elena hates me, Stefan—my own brother—hates me. Don't even get me started about the Witch Bonnie. She couldn't even stand to be near me. They all thought I was a monster. So why did this girl look me straight in the eyes and tell me that I wasn't?
Tonight, I had had every intention of making someone suffer. I wanted one of those pathetic humans to feel the pain that was ripping through my chest at this very moment. I wanted to suck them dry and leave their bodies so that everyone they knew could feel the pain of loss.
But when I looked into those big, doe-like eyes—I just couldn't do it.
Maybe it was because of the pain that I had seen in her expression. She looked like she'd been to hell and back three times over.
I had realized that she looked exactly like me.
Heartbroken and destroyed.
"Where have you been?" The disapproving voice of my brother knocked me back into reality, where everything was not okay and Just-a-Girl wasn't there to tell me any different.
"Out."
"Out hunting." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "Haven't you already done enough damage this week, Damon?" I had the sudden urge to tell my brother that I hadn't actually killed anyone tonight. Maybe then he wouldn't be glaring at me with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow.
Of course, I squelched that idea almost as quickly as it came.
"She was okay," I say, grinning into my drink. "Of course, sorority girls are getting a little drab. What do you think, Steffy? Should I spice it up?"
Stefan looks at me in disgust.
"You're an ass, Damon," he chastises before marching off towards his room.
"I know," I whisper into the glass of whiskey when I'm sure he can't hear. "I know."
As I sit there, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, thoughts of the girl continue to plague my mind. What was it about her that intrigued me so? Was it her defiance? Her fearlessness? Or was it simply the fact that she saw me for who I truly was, not the monster that everyone else believed me to be?
I take a sip of the whiskey, the burn of the alcohol providing a temporary distraction from my thoughts. But no matter how hard I try to push her out of my mind, she remains, a persistent presence that refuses to be ignored.
I may not understand why she chose to lie down next to me in the middle of the road, but one thing is certain—I can't seem to shake her from my thoughts. And as I sit alone in the darkness of the night, I can't help but wonder if, perhaps, she holds the key to unlocking the depths of my own tortured soul.
