*On this story for a limited time only; used only for promotional purposes.

November 3, 2011

Isn't time supposed to help? Is it not supposed to mend wounds, and calm rampant minds? All time has seemed to do is mess everything up. I guess it has to change things—I'll live with that. But take away life as I've always known it? I don't think that's fair. How could it be? Time is supposed to be on my side—or so I stupidly believed. Life's made me so cynical; happiness even seems like a scheme of the devil. How awful is that? I can't understand why. What happened to happily ever after? I'm just spinning my head in circles, I suppose; maybe there's no answer to any of these questions. I don't know—I don't know what I'm even saying anymore. I don't know who I am, anymore.

Elena tapped her pencil against her notebook, staring at the marked-up paper. Her words seemed pointless on the page—it could be used for something so much better. But here it was, being filled with the jumbled thoughts of a teenager and her problems. Staring at the words, Elena realized she couldn't even admit to herself what she was even venting about. Her cryptic words and carefully thrown-together sentences didn't even begin to voice the raging emotions swirling inside her. Sinking her elbows into her Indian-crossed legs, she ran her fingers through her hair. Elena knew what was bothering her; what had been plaguing her for months, but she couldn't come to terms with it. If she did, that would mean she had given into the very truth she never wanted to see true.

Damon.

That was her problem. The root of all her strife and pain. He had told Elena forever—she had believed him. But then damned time had to go and twist Damon's mind into recessive submission, and steal him away from her; pulling him back into the life he had lived before they met. Why?

It doesn't matter, it matters entirely.

Paradoxes swarmed through Elena Gilbert's head, and she wanted to scream. To tear her hair right out of her skull, in attempt to let her inflating emotions free. Every breath she took was constricted; because of stress, of pain, of fear, of silent hope. Elena knew her feelings may be seen as overdramatic—but who is to say what is dramatic and excessive? she retaliated in her mind. Pressing her palm to her cheek, she tapped at her jaw with her thumb. She could feel her tense jaw grinding tooth against tooth, and she knew she had to stop this. Stop caring about Damon, stop worrying about his safety, stop thinking of him. Those blue eyes that sent her on mystical daydreams to grace-land, his midnight hair that somehow always fell right, no matter what the circumstance. She quit her tapping—staring out the window now, frozen.

"Elena?" It was Bonnie. Elena tightly shut her eyes. Why now, did she have to be here?" There came a knock at her doorframe, and Elena knew she couldn't leave Bonnie standing there. Clearing her dry throat, she lifted her head from her hands and turned to face Bonnie.

"Yeah," it was a lagging question, a dry form of hello. Bonnie shook her head slightly at her friend.

"It's been a month, Elena." She knew Bonnie was speaking of Damon. So what if it had been a month? That was far from justifying any point.

"I know," Elena replied vacantly, slightly shrugging her shoulders.

"You can't keep yourself locked up in your room for the rest of your life," Bonnie laughed mildly, "that's no way to move on. Come on, Elena, would it seriously kill you to experience life again?" Bonnie made her way over to Elena, sitting on the windowsill next to her.

"Maybe," Elena mumbled, "you never know."

"Okay, Elena, listen to me: I don't care how much you'll hate me, but I'm taking you out of this house. You, me, lunch; now." Bonnie had to be joking.

"What about you, me, lunch; later?" Elena groaned, leaning her head on the white wall behind her.

"Nope, now. Come on. This isn't healthy." Bonnie grabbed hold of Elena's hand, tugging her from her position on the windowsill. Finally on her feet, Elena reached for her pencil and notebook.

"Don't even think of bringing that," Bonnie warned, "you honestly can't have that many feelings you need to flesh out."

"Fine. But just know that if you were a psychologist, you'd be fired for cruelty."

"Consider this… radical therapy." Bonnie gave a little grin, and pulled her friend towards the door.

"Well isn't this nice?" Bonnie cheerfully asked, sinking herself into her seat. Elena scanned the scene around her. Looking up, the sun was a white gold—she couldn't remember the last time she had been in this kind of warmth for longer than ten minutes. Figures danced and swarmed in the streets around her, and she felt oddly a part of life again.

"Yeah, this is nice," Elena replied mildly. All she could think of, despite the commotion, was Damon. Was he safe? Was he happy? Was he, god forbid, in love? The last question sent her heart plummeting into her gut.

"When's the last time you were at Café Lemont?" Elena inwardly chuckled at the tacky French name, but said nothing on the subject.

"It's been a while," Elena replied, nonchalant. Bonnie said nothing in return. The girls sat in silence, sipping their waters as a distraction from the dead air.

"Do you ever think about them?" Bonnie quietly asked. Elena cocked her head.

"Think of who?" She felt her heart begin to pick up, pounding recklessly against her ribcage. Leave it to Bonnie to destroy the silence.

"Katherine and Stefan. I mean Stefan is gone—you loved him once; that must bother you at least a little. And Katherine's still out there… unnerving." What was Bonnie trying to do?

"Well—I—I don't know, I guess so, yeah." Elena shrugged. "Stefan was a part of my life, but he surely wasn't the love of it. He lost my love when he decided to side with Katherine."

"The memory, I'd think, would be enough to trigger at least some feelings towards his death." Bonnie's pestering remarks were doing a fantastic job at keeping her mind out of the realm of Damon.

"Of course I'm sad he's gone. Of course I am…" Elena paused. "I don't know, it's just that Stefan never really was mine. We both loved a dream of each other. So I can't say that I'm totally broken."

"Do you miss the dream Stefan?" Bonnie's voiced lowered. Elena sighed.

"Why are you asking me this, Bonnie? What happened to 'let's have a fun lunch'? Didn't you get me out of my house so I'd stop moping over the past?" Elena raised an eyebrow—much like Damon had done. Damn the marks he left on her.

"You've never told me any of your feelings about Katherine, Stefan, or even Damon—I just want to know. I can't help or distract you, if I don't know what I'm saving you from." Elena had to smile.

"Thanks, Bonnie, that's really sweet of you…"

"I feel a 'but' coming on. What is it, Elena?" Bonnie stared at her friend with mild amusement.

"But, I don't need to be 'saved' from these thoughts. I need them, so I can come to terms with them."

"Doesn't mean you don't need help though, Lena."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So Katherine—"

"Is not threat or worry of mine unless she makes herself one," Elena said shortly. She could feel her hands begin to tense.

"Understood." Elena knew Bonnie was dying to ask about Damon. It was an inevitable conversation.

"You can ask, if you want to," Elena mumbled in return.

Bonnie sighed, "alright. What happened with you and Damon? Everything seemed so—"

"Perfect? Yeah, I thought it was too. But apparently not. Ever since his brother died, Damon wasn't the same. His humor wasn't as keen or witty, his smile didn't have the same effect; he wasn't Damon. I don't know what he was, exactly. He stayed though," Elena smiled, "he was strong. He put his pain aside, and focused on the future; on me. But then one day, he just vanished. He left a note, but as you know, Damon isn't necessarily the best with words." Elena paused, inhaling deeply. She had to tell the story to someone—get it off of her chest. "He said that it had become too much. He couldn't live in a place that reminded him of his past. I can't say that I blame him, but I don't understand why he couldn't have taken me."

"It seems so unlike Damon to just give in." Bonnie's eyes tenderly looked at Elena.

"It was. But then again, so is everything Damon became after I saw him in 1861." Elena shrugged, and Bonnie nodded in quiet agreement. The witch wondered what would have been if she hadn't sent Elena into the past. Maybe her friend wouldn't be so broken.

"I'm sorry, Elena. It's all my fault. If hadn't had sent you into 1861, none of this would have happened." Bonnie looked to the table, pulling at her bread.

"Just because it turned out darkly, doesn't mean I regret it." Elena gave a soft smile, reaching her hand across the table to lightly pat Bonnie's.

"I still feel awful."

"Feel awful if you want, but know I don't blame you for anything. What happened is between me, Damon, and his emotions. Maybe it was inevitable that he'd leave. He was born for leaving."

"Maybe so, but Damon wasn't meant to leave you—that I know." Bonnie smiled, and Elena returned it sadly. If Bonnie was right, then where was her Damon? Why was he not here beside her?

Damn my crazy imagination. I have like five multi-chapter stories I should be working on, and here I am starting the sequel to Unholiest of Tortures. I know this is short—consider it a preview/a mild filler chapter of background information. Please give me any suggestions you have for where this story could go: I'd love to know what you think!

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