tw: brief discussion of prison, drug addiction, domestic abuse, and murder.
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XVI. MEN LIKE THEM
THERE was a time in Ivy Salvatore's life that she would have killed for silence. As a young girl, when silence cascaded around her it was like being surrounded by an all-consuming hug. It meant that her father was not thundering across their home— terrorizing them with his harsh words or the strike of his hand.
It meant that she could finally be at peace, if even for a mere moment. She could peel back the armor that protected her so fiercely and allow herself to draw in a breath.
Now, she would kill to go back to that time. A time that felt lifetimes away— just out of her grasp.
A time in which silence was a friend, not a foe, but Ivy was rather used to the world working against her; for now silence was this impending doom inside her head.
Silence had become her biggest fear. It ate away at her mind— thumping her brain as it reminded her of all the pain she had endured. It was cruel and taunting, leaving her to her own devices and mind.
A mind that was decaying and darkening as each minute passed by.
Her fingers clasped her family locket that lay between her collarbones— fingers pressing into the metal. Warm skin against the cold metal brought her back, just a smidge. It allowed her to gasp a breath of air into her lungs, wheezing as she pulled herself out of the hollow depraved depths of her mind.
It was grounding in an odd sense. A slight difference in temperatures between her skin and the metal that showed her that the world her mind was showing her wasn't the one she was physically in. Sometimes that was comforting, but at other times it made it even more frightening.
How come her mind was so cruel?
Had she not suffered enough?
People always claim the universe works in mysterious ways, but in Ivy's world, the universe was stationed against her; relentless in its attack.
Nimble limbs tightened around the stark contrast of the metal. Deep breaths in through the mouth and out through the nose. She was okay.
Her mind could haunt her, but it couldn't trap her.
Blinking rapidly, a noise yanked her from the purgatory state that she remained lifeless in.
The front door.
Damon was home— he had been all day. She knew that, but after what had happened to Stefan, she was worried for her brother. Digging out her dagger that had vervain dipped on the blade, a weapon that was steadily becoming her favorite, she made her way to the staircase, pushing herself against the wall as tightly as possible.
