A slightly AU (Alternative Universe) story

Vampire Diaries is not owned by me

Don't Love Me

Chapter 1

There aren't words to describe how Jennifer feels, not that she's really tried finding any. It's as if all the will-power she has at her disposal, usually, has dissolved into dust. Not even that, but what is smaller than particles of dust? It seems now she cannot describe anything more than her surroundings. She is in a forest, she thinks, a place with lots of trees. They're tall and thick and dark, and unfamiliar.

Why am I here now, where was I before? She can't remember, She can't remember anything, not how she got here or why. She wonders, what in the hell has happened for me to wake alone, laying amongst leaves somewhere I do not recognize. Most of all, she wonders who brought her to this place to die.

Too serious, Probably it's nothing as serious as that.

Her knees ache under her, and despite this, she has gotten to her feet. She's standing, her long red hair heavy with dirt... But then she is not. On her back again, she's trying to catch her breath and somehow think through the pain. Her chest feels empty of all the usual things, heart, lungs, liver, but filled with fire, her body's taught with the agony, splayed out on the woodland floor like a discarded doll. She's hungry-but she's not. She's something... But she cannot decide what it is.

A rustling to her right. Jennifer's head lifts from where it has been resting down on the pale skin of her chest. There, just metres away, something's disturbing the thorny bush, the one full of ripe red berries. The fruit doesn't interest her, it's the something behind the bush that has her mind riveted. What is it? I want to know what it is. It's as if she has to know whether it presents a threat and whether she should run while she still has the option to.

All her life she's tried best not to confront things that frighten her. She reasons that it is a good way of staying unharmed and alive. It's worked for her so far, so why am she hesitating now? Surely she is bigger and stronger than anything lurking in this forest. C'mon Jennifer, don't be such a baby.

Out comes a brown and white hare about the size of a cat, it's so big and fluffy and harmless. Despite knowing a scratch is the worst that can come from it, she's squealing and closing her eyes tight. She has never seen a hare in the flesh, instead always on television, and the feel of it brushing against the bottom of her legs makes the pain within her strengthen. She wants to scream at the thing to get away from her, but her mouth is so full of saliva that she's afraid of even parting her lips.

She can hear it moving away from where she's standing and cracks an eye open. Hop Hop Hop. It squeaks and falters. Something sharp protrudes from it's leg and Jennifer can tell without looking too closely that it is barbed wire.

Poor thing must be in so much pain. She slowly approaches it, with the intention of seeing if there is anything she can do to ease it's pain, when the torture begins anew. She's falling again, I'm so dizzy, she can't stop the world spinning or stop myself from landing face first in the dirt, or control her body as it crawls through the dirt. It's as if they are separate, her body and her mind, and it's all she can do to watch and wait to see where it takes her.

Her body's muddied hands reach for the hare in a movement she can barely follow, and an instant later the struggling little furry body is pressed against her mouth. It smells so good, she just want to taste it, to see if it tastes as good as it smells.

What is wrong with me? These aren't her thoughts. She's not an animal, a thing. She stops herself from devouring the hare whole, like a part of me wants to, but she cannot prevent herself from taking a nibble of the soft, pale flesh. The nibble becomes more quickly and it takes all her strength of will to tear her gory mouth away. Now she can see what she's done to the poor creature, and it is horrific, animal-like. I don't want to see. She can't believe what she has done to it, that she has killed. What has happened to make her this way?

In the distance she can hear the sounds of traffic. Lots of cars. It means that maybe, it's possible, she can find help, or a phone. I need to go to the hospital, she thinks, knowing that she's wounded more heavily than she has ever been before. There's blood all over her satin blouse, and on the pin-stripe trousers (she can see crimson where the stripes should be grey), and it feels possible that she has a heart attack. It is an explanation, somehow, she can live with, but it doesn't fully satisfy. It doesn't explain how she came to be unconscious and alone, and lost.

Her body's screaming for her to stop moving. I would stop if I thought I would ever begin again. Determination to find help is all that keeps her from dropping to all-fours and howling in pain, and now that she has finally made it to the road side it feels to her as though something is trying to break through her ribs.

How will I attract the attention of anyone when I can hardly stand straight? Cars do not travel this road as often as she would like and in her mind she knows that there is a chance no one will stop for her at all. She doesn't like to think about that. If no one sees me and helps, tonight might be her last. She is well aware of the predators and scavengers living in the forest. She knows that they will find her in the dark.

Please God, please send something my way... anything

She's almost asleep when bright lights shine behind her heavy eyelids. Please, she pleads silently, please.

The silence following the car turning off is somehow more than before it came. Jennifer is very aware of the night time noises now that they are no longer all around her. She's suddenly missing the flapping of wings in the dark, the scurrying of tiny feet amongst the leaves on the forest floor. It is too quiet. And then a door slams.

Her mind is racing. She knows that she is breathing hard, but her heart feels as if it's barely beating at all. Shouldn't my brain send all my organs the same message of panic?

A dark figure is silhouetted against the bright car lights, approaching me. Whether it is friend or foe, there is no way to know, but she does not care. Even if it is a wood-dwelling maniac with a hidden lair full of dead cats, at least she might be put somewhere warm. Warmth's all she can think about. She's so cold, it feels to her as though she might die if she doesn't get any heat.

The sound of sniffing captures her attention in a vice and holds it. It looks like a man, but could the figure be a beast?

"Don't..." she can barely get the words out of my mouth, She's suddenly numb all over and too exhausted to put up much of a fight if the thing attacks. She knows she cannot wait for an answer, but getting up from where she's landed is proving too damn difficult. Now she's taken my eyes off the approaching dark shape to concentrate on getting herself moving, and soon she regrets it. She can feel his energy directly behind her. How has he gotten so close, so fast? The word has to fight to get out past her frozen lips. "Don't..."

"I'm not going to." His voice is neither low nor high. It's velvet, smooth and rich. It has almost forced her to stop crawling away, almost. "But you're bleeding," How can he know that in the dark? "I think something else might."

As if words can summon darkness, something appears to be waiting in the shadows. Waiting for what? What can it be waiting for? Why does the dark suddenly feel as if it has a hidden agenda?

Her hand is held out to the dark, as if inviting the night to take it, and long fingered hands suddenly accept. Her instincts are screaming at her, telling her what a mistake she has made, but what can she do? She needs help and would take it from anyone.

"Hello?" She asks. What have I invited, what have I done? Strong arms bring her flush against a chest that is well chiselled and rock solid. Her feet must be a couple of inches off of the ground.

"I cannot leave you here," he whispers into her hair before a gust of wind takes her breath, and it feels as if she is flying.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated, as they make writing easier, and I also like to know whether the story is liked or not :-)