A/N: Sorry guys, I know I've taken SO long to update but I haven't been much inspired lately... See, I couldn't help but notice that your enthusiasm has decreased a little. Telling me that you're still into the story, Malena or Kathya in a review would definitely cheer me up. :)

Oh, and I would also like to take this opportunity to thank Noriko333 and Ai Ukitake for sticking to this story and writing reviews for every single chapter! It does wonders for my little heart... I love you guys!

Now on to the real stuff... Happy reading! (:

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters. This is a work of fiction written for entertainment purposes, but the original characters and original storylines present in "My Paper Heart" are my own work.

Bonnie took me to the Grill for lunch. I wasn't sure if it was because her fridge was empty or she thought I would go crazy after being locked inside for the past four days- but I was grateful for the fresh air.

As soon as we set foot on Bonnie's front walkway, I knew that Katherine was around. Her persistence was really starting to get on my nerves. She showed up on my doorstep, threw a gift through my window, now what? Couldn't she get the message already?

"I'm glad to see you're obviously fine," she sing-songed, coming into view. I had decided to ignore her, so I kept my pace toward the door. Bonnie, on the other hand, froze in front of me, making me abruptly stop to avoid bumping into her.

"Katherine," she drawled in a threatening tone to cover up her fear.

"Bennett," Katherine greeted back coldly, not even bothering looking at her. Her eyes were locked on mine.

"We need to talk." The tone she used was demanding but I could see a glint of uncertainty in her eyes.

"I don't want to talk to you," I answered tiredly, turning my head to look at Bonnie.

"That's okay, I'll do all the talking," she joked in a fake light tone.

"I don't want to listen to you either…" I sent a glance at Bonnie to notify her to go inside. I focused all of my senses on Katherine's position while Bonnie and I walked toward her house, but Katherine didn't make a move to stop us. Which I found to be highly suspicious. She had been so determined lately that I was sure she had a trick up her sleeve.

Just when we reached the porch, she whispered something that Bonnie couldn't possibly catch but didn't go unheard by me. "If you don't want to talk to me, you could at least give my lingerie back." I froze dead in my tracks. Bonnie noticed my lack of movement and gave me a questioning look.

"I'll be back in a sec," I told her nervously and turned around before she had time to answer. I walked swiftly toward Katherine and stopped at a safe distance of her.

"I don't care about my underwear," she blurted out, not giving me a second to blow her off. "I just… I shouldn't have assaulted you. I'm well aware of that. But you have to admit that you weren't really nice yourself."

"That's your idea of an apology?" I shot back in disbelief. The nerve she had was making me angry.

"I…" she trailed off, obviously trying to choose her words carefully. "I don't usually regret my actions, or my decisions. So I don't do apologies," she stated matter-of-factly. From the expression that was probably on my face, she seemed to realize that that was not the good answer.

"Look…" she tried again. "I suck at this, OK? Just look at the gift I left for you. My actions speak much better than any of my words. That's all I ask."

I settled for glaring at her, giving no sign of agreement or refusal. She eventually gave me a barely noticeable nod before disappearing. I turned around swiftly and rushed inside the house.

For once, Bonnie's annoying habit of seeing everything in black or white was a windfall. Katherine was the devil walking to her, so I didn't have to explain myself about why I was being so unwelcoming.

We spent the rest of the afternoon planning our secret training meetings. Where we were going to do them and when- but most importantly, what form those trainings would take.

After everything had been decided, Bonnie finally declared me apt to go home and drove me back to my house.

I called Elena to give her the heads up, and from the voice I could hear in the background, I knew Stefan would know that I was safe and sound at home as well. I sent a text to Caroline and lastly, one to Damon: "I'm perfectly fine and finally alone... I obviously didn't have a concussion! Thanks for the three days of babysitting/house arrest."

"You're very welcome. I'm always looking for good excuses to torture you," he sent back. I could see the sarcastic grin on his face as I read his text. I chuckled and slid my phone carelessly on the console table. I looked around and took a slow breath. The past week had been incredibly confusing and disturbing. Hell, the past couple of weeks had been utterly crazy! There were too many thoughts inside my brain bumping into each other to attempt to make sense that they were trying to get out by every single pore of my head. I hadn't had the opportunity to sort this giant mess yet. I needed some alone time to do so. Now that I was finally home and by myself, I knew it was my chance to try see things more clearly.

I sighed heavily and walked toward the CD player in the living room. I crouched down to take a look at the CDs and, picking one up, I smiled when I saw the familiar handwriting on it.

My mom used to play classical music to soothe me when I was crying, or to calm me down before going to bed. She would put one of her favorite pieces on, then would take me on her lap to hug me lovingly. While cradling me, she would hum the tune, her cheek resting on the top of my head. Those were our very special moments and I cherished the memory of every single one of them. Classical music still had this appeasing effect on me.

I put the CD inside the player and pressed the play button. I had chosen a compilation of Strauss' waltzes, Yiruma's "River flows in you" and Pachelbel's Canon. The waltzes were so joyful, ethereal and majestic that they were always lighting up my heart. The Yiruma piece was so delicate and soft that it was soothing the soul. And the Pachelbel's canon always had been my favorite piece ever. It was so powerful but yet so subtle that it always transported me to a distant beautiful world. When the first notes came out of the speakers, I felt my heart clench tightly inside my chest, a sharp nostalgia running through my veins. I missed my mother so much. But I decided to brush it off and to focus on the fact that I was lucky to have something making me feel like she was in the room with me. I turned the volume up and headed for the kitchen.

The other thing that had always helped me clear my head was cooking. The principle of it was that you couldn't possibly rush the preparation, and the concentration it required to do it right inevitably created an out-of-time moment for me. I had decided to cook one of my favorite meals. My mom made it only on holidays because of the time it took to prepare it and eating this meal always reminded me of sunny and happy days.

When the food was finally in my plate, I was already more calm and relaxed, and as I was taking the last bite, I finally felt like myself again. I now had enough strength and peace to realize that no matter how many problems I had encountered during the past few weeks, none of them were insurmountable.

My eyes slid slowly toward the counter and landed on the object I had both consciously and unconsciously avoided until this very moment- Katherine's gift. Grabbing my dishes, I stood up to put them into the sink and then walked slowly toward the counter. I braced myself by taking a deep breath but hesitated a few seconds there, before cautiously unwrapping the present. The surprise caused my eyes to open wildly and my jaw to drop as the gift revealed itself behind the paper. It was a book. But not just any book… My favorite book.

I automatically cast my eyes over the bookcase standing in my living room. How could she have known that? It was impossible to see the books from any of the windows. I mentally checked the place where my own copy was and realized that it was always either in the bookshelves or in my bag; it never left my side.

I frowned, having no clue how she could have figured this out, and looked at the book again. It smelled like dust, mold, glue and ink. I always liked that scent. From the edge, I could see that the paper was thick and had gone yellow with age. I held the book delicately in my hands to touch the covers.

They were tightly woven in a crossed pattern fabric with different shades of green. The spine was made of leather, probably veal, and the title and date were engraved in gold. 1806. As I had assumed when I saw the book, it was a first edition. I slowly ran my finger across the title "My Paper Heart" and smiled at the memory it brought back.

When I first laid my hands on this story, I had read it three times in a row. My dad kept teasing me about it, asking me regularly if I was aware that there were actually a lot of different books out there. I was always answering that he couldn't possibly understand until he had read it himself. I already had my mom reading it and I nagged him so many times that he had finally surrendered and agreed to read the book.

The story was about a boy who had been raised by an old woman, within the confines of an immense forest, completely cut off from the rest of the world. His only parental figure was embittered and withdrawn, deeply disappointed in humanity. The boy never really knew who she was- if he was related to her or even if he had been born in the forest, but he never asked. That was just the way it was.

They had always lived in a dilapidated cabin hidden among the trees. The woman provided a roof, some clothes and something to eat, but only addressed him when strictly necessary, and almost never left her rickety chair. Out of necessity, he had quickly learned by himself how to hunt, fish, pick, and make clothes out of animal skins. His only hobbies consisted of exploring the forest, climbing rocks and observing the life of the fauna around.

When the old woman died around his sixteenth year, he felt for the first time in his life a certain kind of sadness. The only feelings he had experienced through his lone existence until this day had been limited to physical pain, fear, satisfaction, and a sense of belonging toward the only adult he'd ever known. Sometimes, on very rare days, he also had felt some joy.

From his life experience, death was simply the way things go. Either you would be killed to feed carnivore creatures, or die when your time came. Your body was just returning to nature. So he continued to live the life he had always lived, until a particular event changed the course of his entire existence. A scientific group crossed his territory to study a rare genus of tree thriving in the area. He observed them for days, fascinated by their sophisticated clothes, the many unfamiliar words they were speaking, and the strange tools they were using. But what captivated him the most was the way they were interacting with each other. When he finally let himself be known to them, the scientists immediately showed an enthusiastic interest in him and offered to bring him back to the capital.

For over a year, he gained a name, Viktor, and came across many foreign things such as the concept of politeness, education or technology. But what rocked his world the most was the extent of human relationships. He discovered a sense of humor and learned how to laugh. He found out what being part of a family meant, or the incredible feelings that came with having a friend. But the most overwhelming feeling for him had been to meet with love.

When a journalist asked him, during a conference about his life, what was it like for him to explore the real world, he had tried to convey the incredible changes he had experienced through his answer.

"Back when I lived in the forest, my heart was a tree. It had been uprooted and then carved by this whole new world. Now it is as fine and elaborated as a piece of paper. Finally ready for its amazing journey to be written, but also much more delicate."

Unfortunately for Viktor, his words had been premonitory. A lot of names and memories had been written on the paper of his heart, but it also had been stained, crumpled, crossed out, and torn by love and betrayal, sorrow and loss until it burnt into ashes. He had become too civilized and social to go back to his forest, but always remained a misfit; too pure to survive in the civilization. He died alone three years later in despair, not belonging to either of the worlds.

My dad came into my room that night, with the book in his hand. From the grave look on his face, I thought he had hated it. He walked unhurriedly toward my bed and sat down to face me.

"Is everything OK?" I asked hesitantly, a bit worried about his unusual attitude.

"Yes, everything is fine…" he reassured me with a small smile. I looked down at the book in his hand.

"You hated it, huh? It's okay, you don't have-"

"I loved it, actually," he interrupted.

"You did?" I frowned in confusion.

"Mmhmm… but I'm surprised that my fifteen year old daughter has enough maturity and life experience to handle what this book is about," he answered softly.

"I know I'm a teen, Dad, but you don't need to be wise and old to read a book… I can enjoy a story even though I may not measure all the implications of it," I teased gently, trying to ease my discomfort.

"True. But reading it three or four times in a row is a whole different level. It means that you truly relate to this story and probably identify yourself with the protagonist." A hint of sadness clouded his features.

"Dad…" I muttered quietly.

"I'm aware that you're at an age where you don't talk about everything to your parents anymore, but it breaks my heart to know that you've been through the kind of life experiences that make you able to relate to this story…" he continued, his voice a bit hoarse on the edge. "I'm so sorry I hadn't been capable to protect you from them, sweetie…" He cupped my cheek with his enormous hand, hurt shining in his eyes. Seeing those emotions in my father's eyes was so heartbreaking that I felt my own eyes watering. I threw myself at him to hug him tightly. He locked his firm arms around my chest and engulfed me in a strong and loving embrace.

"You're the best dad I could have asked for…" I mumbled into his neck. "But you can't protect me from everything." I wiped a small tear away discreetly before he could feel it.

"And I have the most incredible daughter in the world," he answered with a smile in his voice. "You don't need to comfort me, sweetie… you know how dads are, right? They can't help but want to protect their little girls from ever being hurt, no matter what."

"I know," I replied giddily. He let go of me to place a kiss on my forehead.

"I'm already so proud of you… but I'm sure I will be even prouder of the adult you're going to become. Someone who's already this soulful and receptive as such a young age will grow into a real treasure, I know it. I can't wait to meet her," he declared with a cheery wink, making me giggle. "But I want you to know something very important," he pursued, looking deep into my eyes.

"What is it?" I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear nervously, eager but afraid to hear what he was going to say.

"Life is worth living, sweetie. No matter how many times you'll be hurt, you can't quit and protect your heart from life, do you hear me?" he asked seriously. "Because if you do such thing, you'll keep yourself from living all that is worth living for…" He stroked my cheekbone with his thumb.

"But… what if it's too hard?" I mumbled timidly.

"It won't be, I promise… because you already have the secret weapon to go through life, no matter what it brings you."

"And what would that be?" I asked confused, with a pout on my lips.

"A loving family and dear friends," he answered matter-of-factly with a dazzling smile.

I snapped myself out of the memory to wonder what my dad would think of me today. He would probably be sad to see that I had become the perfect opposite of what he had hoped for me. Pained that I did exactly what he warned me not to.

I felt a sharp pang inside my chest at the thought. But they had left me alone. And the dear friends didn't survive them either.

My mind drifted to the people who were part of my life now and I tried to guess what both of my parents would have thought of them. My mom would have loved Elena for sure, but she'd have hated Katherine without a doubt. She had always been able to smell trouble from a mile away. My dad, on the other hand… A small smile rose on my lips when I realized that I knew exactly what he would have said about Katherine. "She's just like you sweetie… she just hadn't been lucky enough to get as much love as you have, that's all." My mom would have inevitably answered that nothing was that simple, and my dad would have then given her his trademark look when it came to her- a teasing gaze laced with adoration. Then he would have said what he always said.

"Of course it is, honey. Nobody comes into this world with a cold heart. And the closest to the heart is who you really are. Some people just need some extra love before revealing this raw side of themselves."

She would have probably argued that it was already too late for some of those people. My dad would have concluded by telling me not to listen to her because she was a glass half-empty kind of person.

The smile on my lips grew wider at the thought of the scene playing in my head. I wished so much that he could be here. I knew that he would have been able to handle Katherine. I, on the other hand, tended to share the point of view of my mom since they died. Nothing was that simple.

I melancholically let my fingers run over the fabric and picked the edge of the cover to open it. There was something written on the flyleaf.

"No one ever taught me what a friend is or showed me how to love. But I'm willing to learn…

K."

My heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched when I recognized the quote. The line was excerpted from a very crucial chapter in which Viktor explained his existence and opened his heart to foreign feelings for the woman who was about to seal his fate. But the quote wasn't complete. The last part was missing. "No one ever taught me what a friend is or showed me how to love. But I'm willing to learn… because you are worth it."

And just like that, the peace and quiet I had worked hard to obtain earlier went up in smoke.

A/N: Oh my, cliffhanger! Sorry about that... but not really. :D Anyway, I forgot to tell you guys, but I created a page on Twitter a while ago. I'm giving it another go, so if you're curious to hear the music Maya listens to in this chapter, learn little fun facts, or just ask questions/talk with me, you can find the page here - /MyPaperHeart_M

Now, I'll stop babbling. I swear.