Damon Salvatore.

17.

The weekend had finally arrived, and I was more than ready to spend it with Damon. The thought of being in his arms again, feeling his presence, and submitting to his every whim sent a thrill through me. I had been looking forward to this all week, counting down the hours until I could be with him again.

It was late in the evening as I drove towards his house, the familiar route etched into my memory from countless trips. The streets were quiet, the night settling in around me like a comforting blanket. I was lost in my thoughts, replaying the last time we were together and anticipating what Damon had in store for me tonight. The city lights blurred past as I imagined his touch, his voice, the way he could make me feel so completely his.

The sound of my phone buzzing in the passenger seat pulled me from my reverie. Glancing over, I saw Damon's name flash across the screen. A smile tugged at my lips as I reached for the phone, eager to hear his voice. But before I could grab it, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye—a pair of headlights, blindingly bright and heading straight for me.

Time seemed to slow down as my heart leaped into my throat. The car was swerving erratically, crossing the center line, coming at me with terrifying speed. Panic gripped me, my hands clenching the steering wheel as I tried to swerve out of the way, but it was too late.

The impact was sudden and violent, the screech of metal on metal ringing in my ears as the other car collided with mine. The world spun out of control, my car flipping and crashing into the guardrail with a sickening crunch. My body was thrown forward, the seatbelt digging into my chest as the airbag deployed, slamming into me with brutal force.

For a moment, everything went black.

When I came to, the world was a blur of pain and confusion. I could hear the distant wail of sirens, the flicker of red and blue lights reflecting off the shattered glass around me. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled the air, making it hard to breathe.

I tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through my leg, and I cried out, tears springing to my eyes. My head throbbed, and I could feel something warm and sticky trickling down the side of my face. I was trapped, pinned in the twisted wreckage of my car, unable to free myself.

Panic set in as I realized the severity of the situation. I was hurt, badly, and I didn't know if I could get out on my own. The fear was overwhelming, the pain excruciating, but I forced myself to stay conscious, to fight through the haze.

"Help..." I croaked out, my voice barely a whisper. I tried again, louder this time. "Help!"

The sirens grew louder, closer, and I could see the flashing lights of an ambulance and police cars pulling up to the scene. Relief washed over me as I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, voices calling out in urgent tones.

"Hang in there, we're coming!" someone shouted, and I felt a surge of hope. Help was here. I was going to be okay.

The next few minutes were a blur of activity. I felt hands on me, strong and sure, as the paramedics worked to free me from the wreckage. The pain was overwhelming, but I tried to focus on their voices, their calm reassurances that I was going to be okay.

"We've got you," one of them said as they finally pulled me free, carefully placing me on a stretcher. "You're going to be fine. Just hang in there."

I nodded weakly, too exhausted to speak. My vision blurred as they loaded me into the ambulance, the flashing lights fading into darkness as I slipped into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the sterile smell of antiseptic and the soft beeping of machines. My head felt heavy, my body weighed down by a fog of pain and medication. Slowly, I opened my eyes, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room.

"Hey, you're awake."

The voice was soft, familiar, and filled with relief. I turned my head slightly, wincing at the pain, and saw Damon sitting beside my bed, his expression a mix of worry and anger. His usually composed demeanor was cracked, the tension in his jaw evident as he looked at me.

"Damon..." I whispered, my voice hoarse and weak.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm here, Mya. You're safe now."

Tears welled up in my eyes as the reality of what had happened began to sink in. The car crash, the pain, the fear—it all came rushing back, overwhelming me. I reached out, grabbing onto his hand as if he were the only thing keeping me grounded.

"It was a drunk driver," Damon said, his voice tight with barely contained rage. "He came out of nowhere, didn't even try to stop. But you're okay now. They've got him in custody."

I nodded, too exhausted to say anything more. The tears spilled over, and Damon squeezed my hand, his expression softening.

"I'm so sorry, Mya," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I should have been there with you. I should have protected you."

"It's not your fault," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm just glad you're here now."

He nodded, his eyes dark with emotion as he looked at me. "I'm not leaving your side. I'll be here until you're better, I promise."

I squeezed his hand, taking comfort in his presence. Despite everything, I knew I was safe now, that Damon would take care of me. The pain, the fear—it all faded into the background as I focused on him, on the bond between us that had only grown stronger through this ordeal.

As the medication pulled me back into sleep, I felt a deep sense of relief wash over me. I was alive, and Damon was here. That was all that mattered.