***Dedicated to my mother, for fighting those retched demons, even after I had stopped. Because of her, I am truly free.*** xoxo Ren

Ten Years Prior

Every flash illuminated her body, just for moment, but all with the prospect of capturing a wrinkle in time. Maybe the camera's true purpose was to hold life still, slapping it on a piece of paper for all eternity. The pictures that cascaded onto her chest would never reveal the truth, but as Damon casually stuffed more socks into the backpack, she laid there, staring up at the one pink speck amongst the vast white ceiling, snapping photo after photo until her eyes saw only blotches of vision.

"Damon," She sighed, "I have to tell-"

His finger quickly pressed to her lips to silence her. Chills swam up her spine in a spasm when the teen nearly jumped onto the mattress to hover the girl's bare silhouette. The shutter of the camera clicked over and over, accompanied by an onslaught of light.

"Pose for me," He laughed, "We have to go soon. Let's leave a couple dirty ones here for your parents to find when they come home later."

The deep black of his tendrils smothered her skin like feathers. She forced herself to smile for the sake of that young boy she was running away with, but the tears barely hid behind her faintly brown eyes. Damon suckled her bottom lip, rubbing his worn jeans against her vulva roughly, as if no amount of friction could fulfill him.

"Your skin is so smooth," He chuckled when his palm came to grope her warm thigh.

"I used my dad's straight razor." She muttered her words in a soft, monotonous breath.

The girl's eyes seemed empty, but Damon's attention was somewhere else entirely in those moments. Possibly his lust and hormones had dominated his ability to read her emotions. How could he not see it scrolled across her brows? All she wanted was for him to be able to know without so much as parting her lips.

"You little rebel. Shaving your body is a sin," He huskily whispered into her ear, standing on his knees to steady the camera above her.

Her cheeks grew a warm blush suddenly, and she twisted her waist suggestively, pushing her chest out until those wild dark locks of hers could just drift above her perky nipples. Occasionally she changed her pose while Damon snapped the portraits. He moved to stand on the floor and soon enough, photographs scattered the floor too, each bursting from the mechanism, one by one until the girl could no longer bear to play the childish game.

"I'm not going," She mumbled, and as if her words had broken the camera, the room silenced.

Damon's vibrantly blue eyes widened, fixed in shock. The photos squeaked beneath his boots as he breathlessly adjusted his feet.

"What?" He trembled. "Verity…"

"I'm sorry," She cried, sitting up and reaching out to comfort him.

His feet moved him backwards, step by step until he felt far enough away not to hurt her. The confession had paralyzed him to the point that his face no longer showed any emotion, and all the anger began to coagulate, first in his fingertips and then his heart and finally his lungs. He simply stared piercingly as the young girl promptly threw her dress back on, possibly out of shame.

"Fine, don't come. Like I even care," He spat, snatching the bag from the desk and stuffing a handful of photos into it recklessly. "Do you think I want to be a part of their fucked up army?"

"Damon, listen," The girl pleaded, bolting from the bed until she could grab his tense shoulder.

The fabric of his shirt swaddled every contour of his muscled back, but all Verity could see was the betrayal seemingly etched into the stitches he wore, as if his clothing could understand his emotion. Tears trickled along her cheeks, and the longer she remained silent, the faster they began to multiply.

"I can't go with you. We're seventeen. It was fun to be rebellious and crazy, but leaving...that I-I can't do. My family is here," She sobbed desperately.

Only a moment was needed for Damon to turn on his heels to face her tall frame. His jaw was clenched, restraining him from snapping at her in anger.

"Yeah, a family who tries to control you." The words were sharp, and they penetrated right through Verity.

"Then what are you doing right now?" She nearly screamed with a set of lungs that shook violently at the realization that she was going to lose him forever.

"You think this is control? No, no, Ver…" He hissed, seizing her wrist, "This is me controlling you."

Verity shrieked from the sudden attack, and as his lungs began to pant, she fought against him with more vigor. The backpack was in one hand, her defiant wrist in the other. Down the steps of the generic home he hauled her. With every step, Damon grew harsher in his attempt to dominate the girl, and she stumbled along behind him, crying to let her be.

"Damon," She whimpered again and again, "No."

Soon the ground beneath her was no longer wood, but rather, grass. It scraped against her knees, marking her with streaks of dark green. He threw the bag onto his shoulder, turning to pluck Verity from the earth. His strong arms gripped her until they were steadily anchored around her waist.

"Let me go or I will scream," She warbled hysterically, "I'll scream until the neighbors hear."

His grip loosened just enough for her to stop fighting him. Bruises tattooed her wrist, just as blood and grass stained her knees. Damon gasped at what he had done, nearly dropping her. As she tumbled to the safety of the hard ground, her lungs shook in relief. The male hesitantly took a step toward her disheveled body as if to comfort her, but he paused then.

"Haven't you done enough?" Verity spat, "Go. Just go."

"Ver, I-I," He struggled to speak.

Rapid footsteps sounded in the distance, and Damon could feel his legs begging him to run. His heart was tearing him apart. How could he leave her, after all he had done to find a way out?

"Go," She screamed a final time, spit spewing from her lips.

His eyes met hers for just a moment, but it was enough for him to feel as though he had memorized her. Then finally, against the will of his heart, the teen took off down the strategically square grid of that pitiful city. Tears flew behind him as he ran, and in that moment, he felt as though he would vomit. Street after street came and went, until his name could be heard in the distance, and as he drew nearer their faces appeared vividly before him.

"Come on, we've got to go," Tyler barked. "Where the fuck were you?"

"Don't worry about it," Damon panted, securing the bag onto his back.

And as if the taste of freedom could be felt on their tongues, thirteen pairs of feet began to pound the earth with ferocity. Every breath fed the air slapping against their bodies, and every thump of their hearts brought them another moment closer to triumph. Damon pressed on, even as his eyes continued to well up with anguish, even as he suppressed the sobs bubbling up in his chest. As they picked up pace, Stefan's hand slapped his back encouragingly, their lungs huffing in sync.

"We're going home, Brother," Stefan cheered with an undying grin.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon. The guards would be coming to the end of their shifts, likely too exhausted to chase after a band of traitors. It was a risk each of them knew they would have to take if they wanted more than what the government sparingly provided. Of them, only two were girls, and as they sprinted alongside the group, they clung to their boyfriends in fear. All were so young it seemed. Many were just teenagers when they had left their families, when they had left everything for the hope of being truly free. Verity was supposed to find that freedom beside Damon. Her hopes and dreams were of a different cloth, he had learned. Though the same color, hers was of another texture and material completely.

When the group came to the final high-wired fence keeping them from the outside world, knees buckled and lungs gasped tenaciously. Wes and Tyler worked to loosen the damaged fence upward until there was a clear opening. Days earlier, the boys had created their escape, careful to wear rubber on their hands when hacking the electric fence. Soon, each person began to make their way through, meticulous and slow beneath the jagged spikes the destruction had created. The last to slip through was Stefan, only fifteen, but with the soul of an old man.

Just as the boy dragged his feet safely onto the sacred ground the others stood, bullets rang out from above. All persons bolted up the base of the tree-ladened mountain just outside the fence, where they planned to escape through. Damon grabbed his younger brother's hand, helping him to his feet frantically. Adrenaline replaced their blood that day, every pint.

The group scrambled up the steepness of the terrain until exhaustion began to mercilessly nip at them. Pieces of the ground exploded like volcanos from where the bullets ricocheted, and for a moment they nearly clipped someone's heel. Stefan began to slow suddenly, his hand slipping from his brother's.

"Keep going," Damon grunted, yanking his hand desperately.

"I need to stop," He said so calmly through his panting, "Please, Damon."

Stefan allowed himself to collapse to the forest floor, and his brother nodded just slightly in agreement, for he had no other choice but to follow. The others continued up the incline without looking behind, and a part of Damon ached at the thought of never catching them again.

"I-I," The boy wearily slurred.

His eyes struggled to look at his brother before they blurred his sight completely. Damon caught the younger teen's body when it slumped backwards against the morning dew, gasping in surprise. Just like a baby, Damon cradled his brother, and for some reason that day Stefan's hair was a very light brown, and his eyes a vivid moss green, just as he had looked as a little boy wrestling with his older sibling.

"Stefan," He yipped, shaking the weak body in his arms.

Just then, Damon realized the red centered on his brother's chest. It seeped like an overflowing street drain, and understandably, the boy holding him trembled in horror.

"Stefan," He screamed, pressing his palm to the wound. "No. Not now."

Blood lathered Damon's hands like lotion, and as it drained from his brother, the hope dwindled with it. The boy's lungs wheezed for air, but with such composure that Damon could not decide if he was gone yet, not until words fluttered into the breeze.

"I'm gonna b-be free." Then just like that, the wind carried his voice up and away forever.

A smile grew, not just on his lips, but in those child-like orbs with which transfixed so naturally, as if he had practiced all his life. The air then froze around them, the world silenced, and the sun sprinkled down just enough light to reflect in Stefan's glazed eyes. Two souls died that day, each granted their freedom, but neither able to know the other's. As if punished for his will to be free, Damon Salvatore lost everything, everything but his tangible existence and a vendetta the world had yet to know.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to LiveBreatheVampires for beginning a new journey with me even during her super busy schedule!

This story is in an alternate universe (AU) and is also all-human (AH). Rated M for adult themes and dark innuendos.

I hope you enjoyed the prologue! xoxo Ren