ꜱʜᴇ ᴘᴜᴛꜱ ʜᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏᴛɪᴄ
Jade Forbes, a little psychotic older sister of Caroline comes back to Mystic Falls after moving out 5 years ago. Former drug addict with hell of a baggage, current tattoo artist, leaves her home and goes to Virginia after...
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chapter 37
Why when we do our darkest deeds Do we tell? They burn in our brains Become a living hell
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BONNIE EXHALED a long, weary sigh as her phone lit up once more, Elena's name glowing across the screen. Her mood–already shitty–darkened further. Without a second thought, she pressed the decline button, just as she was doing all day and previous evening. The witch had no desire to talk to her, even the simple thought of her voice made her skin crawl at the moment. It always came down to the same thing, didn't it? Elena vs. the rest of the world? She loved Elena, she really did.
She did, right?
Um.
So why was she always the one left bleeding, breaking, sacrificing? Why was Bonnie the one expected to fix everything that went wrong? From the moment she learned about her heritage, her life had tilted, spiraled, went to absolute shit. Her grandmother's face flickered in her mind—so soft, so warm and so gone. A bitter scoff pushed past the witch's lips. Again, how she died? Saving Elena.
It's just the same thing, over and over and freaking over. Sacrifice. Loss. Pain. Repeat.
How much more of herself would she be expected to give? How many more pieces of her life, her heart, her family, would be demanded in the name of saving Elena Gilbert?
An another ring tore her out of her emotional turmoil. She glanced at the phone—an instant mistake. Jaw tightening, she snatched it up and accepted the call. "Elena, I really don't want to talk right now."
"I know." Elena's reply came quickly, breath spilling out in a shaky exhale. "Bonnie, I'm so sorry–"
"For what? It's not your fault." Bonnie interrupted with a shrug at nothingness. "Like always." She muttered under her breath.
"It is. Damon only did that to save me from Rebekah." Elena insisted, tone soft and pleading. "She was hunting me down in the tunnels and–"
Bonnie was on the verge of ending the call now. "—Elena, I really don't want to hear about how hard your evening was. My mom died so you could live. Accept it. I did." She spat, her tone absolutely lifeless.
A fragile silence followed. Then Elena whispered. "Okay." Another heartbeat passed. "I'm really sorry."
"And I don't forgive you." Bonnie's answer was immediate—effortless and emotionless. Just as if she was talking about the weather.
On the other end, Elena inhaled sharply. "B-but you just said—"
The witch stood up from the dining table, not being able to sit still anymore. "—Look, I don't have time to talk right now, Abby needs me." She crossed the room and stopped before the window, seeing her mother motionlessly staring at her dead garden outside, the view making Elena's voice even more unbearable.
