TO FORGET

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So, I needed to get this one out. I'm still working on my other story, but this idea has been blocking all my creative attempts with that one. This story is best read while listening to 'Devour' by Marilyn Manson, which it was written to, and I'm begging you guys to give it a listen. It completely sets the mood, and had a lot of influence on the fic itself. Happy reading, and please, tell me what you think!

One month. Four weeks. Thirty-one days. Seven hundred and thirty hours.

This short span of time was how long it had taken Elena to become the embodiment of the phrase 'rock bottom'. The colorful phrase used to describe the moment when an addict hits the final breaking point, gone so far down that the only thing left to do is ask for help had never made so much sense to her as it did that evening, the thirty-first time she'd woken up with tears on her cheeks, Stefan's name on her lips.

The nightmares had started the night he left, and had plagued her ever since. They weren't the stuff of fiction, no monsters or ghouls haunting her in the night; worse, they were vivid recollections of a real life vision. The quiet of the boardinghouse, the long walk down the hall. Katherine's mouth attached to the hollow of Stefan's exposed shoulder, fangs bared, as he fingernails dragged across his back. The most lingering detail was the look on Stefan's face, eyes shut in an expression of pure ecstasy as she drank from him, and in retrospect, the idea that they had both known she was there before she'd seen a thing.

The nightmare always ended prematurely, leaving to the imagination and Elena's cursedly accurate memory the apologetic, shameful look in Stefan's eyes as he confirmed his decision. It was a detail that she had no urge to remember, but one she couldn't forget. Or so she had told herself, every night before that one, in particular, when her mind wandered to its most desperate lengths in hopes of forgetting. There seemed to be no way, the entire scene something Elena was sure would scar her for life, ruining her from the inside out, as long as it played on a loop in the back of her mind. But desperation was a powerful motivator, and before long, a plan was born.

She hadn't spoken to Damon since Stefan left, not daring to encounter him after the way they had left things between them, and unable to meet his eyes with the knowledge of what his brother had done painted across her forehead. After all, there was no reason for them to even acknowledge one another's existence, at that point; she had bluntly told him that she hated him, that he had lost her from his life, forever, he had accused her of playing him as easily as Katherine had, and that had been the end of things, between them. Without Stefan to tie them together, there had been no excuse for her to even attempt to salvage her bond with the eldest Salvatore brother, until it occurred to her that he was the one person who could help her.

It may have been manipulative, it may have been selfish, but as she gathered her strength and made the short trip to the boardinghouse, it was the only option she could see. As much as it pained her to admit that she needed Damon for anything, remembering hurt more, and he could assuage that pain, so easily. That wasif, and only if, Damon was still in Mystic Falls, at all. She would soon know.

She didn't bother with ringing the door bell or even knocking, instead stepping in the door she knew would be unlocked. Had she not already been numbed by the situation at hand, she may have been overwhelmed by the boardinghouse itself; it was in pristine condition, absolutely the same as it had been, a month ago. She wasn't sure what she expected to have changed in such a relatively short amount of time, but upon arrival, it was clear that nothing had. Every book was still in place, all the pictures hung exactly as they had before. Even Damon's stock cart of scotch was left, looking fairly untouched.

And that was when it occurred to her that Damon may have moved on from Mystic Falls, as well.

A panic coursed through her, partially acknowledged and largely unnamed. The idea that Damon was gone too frightened her for the obvious reason that she may not be able to seek his assistance in forgetting everything that had happened, but also for reasons she couldn't quite grasp. She hated Damon passionately, last she had checked, and yet, she couldn't stomach the idea of him being gone from her life completely, so soon after Stefan. But she knew Damon, and she had a sneaking suspicion there would have been a grand scale scene, had he decided to make an exit. She wouldn't stumble upon it this way.

She whirled around as a fire flickered to life in the hearth, simultaneously taking her breath away in shock, and helping her to breathe easier. He was still there.

"Damon?" she called out, eyes scanning the room in a fruitless effort to find where he was hiding.

And then, she heard his voice, as smooth and unperturbed as black velvet, in her ear, "Elena."

She turned to face him quickly, finding herself inches from the face of the older Salvatore, for the first time in a full month. She hadn't forgotten his face, but the suddenness of his entrance into her field of vision left her searching for words, mouth slightly slack, as she looked up at him. For the most split second in time, she was aware of a light flush of blood that ran to her cheeks, the quickened pace of her heartbeat, and the fact that she was having grand difficulty mustering the on sight hate she'd kept alive so easily, just weeks before. She had missed him, had missed the idea of him and the life that she had led during a time when they were civil, when things were universally good, when Stefan had been there.

"Breaking and entering?" he finally questioned after they spent a long pause examining one another, a dark brow arching with the statement.

"It was unlocked," she volunteered quietly, eyes casting downward.

"Why are you here?" he asked, a logical question given that they both knew Stefan was no longer present. It crossed her mind that he might think her delusional, assuming that perhaps she thought Stefan had returned, or something along those lines. Or maybe he knew what she was there to ask of him, the dire situation she'd found herself in since his brother's disappearance with Katherine. It was difficult to tell how much of the situation Damon had assessed, and how much was under his control, as usual.

She swallowed her pride, the faintest shine of tears coating her dark brown eyes.

"I... need your help."