Words Unspoken (The Vampire Diaries)

Prologue

There is something you should know about me: I do not give a fuck, not about anything. An expression I once heard states: 'behold this field where I keep my fucks and you will see that it is barren'. That pretty much sums up my entire existence. I do what I want, when I want, wherever I want. My teeth have sunk into the fleshes of humans from every religion, country, and ethnicity. There are no exceptions. If you have blood, I am going to suck you dry.

Sometimes for fun I'll play with the victim, sprawling my body out in the middle of a quiet road, waiting until an innocuous soul slams on the brakes, their eyes wide in panic. I especially enjoy listening to the way their hearts race and the way their blood pumps feverishly through their veins. I have to keep myself from shooting up from the pavement and attacking them. The patience required is nearly unbearable. I feel them shaking my body with trembling fingers, whipping out their cellphones for help.

That's when I grab them, pressing my palm firmly against the back of their necks until they are forced down to my lips. I momentarily enjoy the way their artery pulsates before sinking my fangs into it. The screams only make me smile that much more, feeling as they thrash in my hold. Sometimes I will pull away just to watch the way the life leaves their eyes. In other circumstances, I must be quick, especially when there are other spectators inside the car, sobbing in complete hysteria as I reap the lives of their loved ones.

There is this inexplicable urge to replicate that feeling tonight after only two glasses of scotch. An invisible force is coaxing me to that same road tonight. I slam the door behind me, walking slowly along the road, my black clothing mixing in with the darkness all around me. Cars pass one by one, each lucky to escape the fate of my thirst. I can tell it will be a slow night, but my eyes wander up to the sky and all I can see is that giant moon. It is so big that it feels as if I could walk toward it and trail my fingers along it. My eyes instinctively squint from its harsh brightness, grateful that its presence cannot burn me to ashes.

When I finally get bored of placing one foot in front of the other, I stop. It is silent momentarily and the forest encompassing the road on either side is still and seemingly dead. I sigh, once more looking up at that big, old moon. Now why can't vampires jump high enough to reach out and touch it? I scoff at my own stupidity, kicking a small rock near my right shoe. I hear branches snapping behind me and I turn quickly. Nothing.

"Stupid fu-" I begin to hiss, suddenly stopped by the headlights in the distance.

I nearly fall into position, stretching my body perpendicular to the double yellow line trailed along the center of the road. I close my eyes and wait for the pathetic humans to do the rest. As if expecting every move, I listen as the brakes squeal to a complete stop, and unexpectedly the tires are just inches from my body. Now I am pissed. Like, what the fuck? Are you too busy receiving a blow job to notice the person in the road? If I move my head four inches to the left, I will be able to feel the rubber against my fucking face.

I wait for them to finally give a shit about their victim still lifeless on the pavement. The woman and man both hover me, screaming at each other. Well, their deaths will make a lot of people happy, I can guarantee that. Their annoying bickering is reverberating in my ears like nails on chalkboard. Without another thought, I snap the man's neck in one swift move before grabbing the woman by her throat, silencing her instantly. I look deep into her hazel eyes with a smirk before latching onto the column of her neck. She's what I call 'a screamer'. That awful high-pitched shriek makes my ears cry in agony at its horridness. I suck harder, wanting this irritating woman to just die.

I am covered in blood, feeling how the warmth seeps onto my skin. My piercing blue orbs gaze down in frustration, realizing that I am holding her body with such force that I have created a deep gash in her flesh with my nails. Obviously I am far too tired and maybe even too drunk to have realized my clumsiness sooner. I move onto the man, ready for another round of blood-sucking heaven, inching my canines closer. That's when the rustling in the woods beside me on the road augments until my eyes catch it, or her.

It is like Bambi: The Fucking Sequel, like a little scared doe emerging from the forest. The girl is dressed in a white, full length nightgown, her long, brown hair flying wildly behind her. Her eyes are wide in panic, but then again, all I can really notice is the fact that she is running toward me. Why me? I hiss to myself. I am drenched in blood, about to rip this man's throat out, and this girl is bolting right for me. I quickly look around, waiting to see a hidden camera somewhere. This is a joke, right? There is no way this is happening.

Before I can even think, she's clutching my shirt, tears brimming in her brown orbs. Her lips open and she mutters some fucking gibberish, quivering against my chest. Let me tell you, I've heard a lot of languages in my day and that was surely not of this planet. Seconds pass and her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses against me. Don't worry, I am tempted to follow her. I want my eyes to roll back at how ridiculous this is. When she falls, I notice the tattoo on the back of her neck, the black ink more of a myriad of unrecognizable lines and symbols than anything else.

You know where this girl belongs? A looney bin. A high security looney bin with lots of pleasant drugs they can put her on. Vampires are not toys, children. You especially don't run up to them. I let out a frustrated groan before ripping a pinned piece of brown cloth from her nightgown. It looks worn and just barely clings to her. I unravel it and in calligraphy the words spell Protect Elena. Wow...she has a name! I chuckle incredulously before stuffing the rag into my jean pocket and reluctantly pulling her against my chest.

I will admit that she is quite beautiful. She looks, well, drinkable. I feel an urge to sink my teeth into her sweet, little neck, but think better of it. This girl obviously needs some serious mental help, and she looks young enough for the American tax dollar to save her sanity. As I walk, I swear at myself. I think about how ridiculous this entire situation is.

And even better, where the fuck are her parents? If they show up, I will rip their throats out just for being complete idiots. Who allows their daughter to dress like the Virgin Mary, run through the forest late at night, get a tattoo, and speak freaky languages? Are they just as crazy? The school system must be going to shit if proper English is this hard to come by. Through my anger, there is also a tad of curiosity, my eyes glancing down occasionally at her. Her heart rate is slow, slower than it should be.

Thus, my walk soon turns into a jog and then into a full-on sprint. I turn into the giant iron gates of Mystic Falls Psychiatric Asylum, using my vampire speed to arrive at the front door. I knock a few times, impatiently waiting for yet another human who doesn't do their job in a timely fashion. If I could kill people based solely on effort, half this planet would be extinct. The woman finally opens the fucking door and my eyes instantly bore into hers.

"Take this girl, admit her, and give her whatever psychiatric help she needs. She's a little...um...how do you say it?" I pause, facetiously pretending to think. "She's psycho, insane, mental, crazy. Catch my drift? Her name is Elena."

I laugh at my own sarcastic wit and shove the girl into the woman's arms. I see that the blood on my shirt has transferred to her once immaculate white dress, now just a sea of red blotches. My eyes glance at Elena one more time, and something inside my chest suddenly aches. I turn to leave, ignoring this strange allure to the girl and not looking back. I use supernatural speed to carry myself back to the boarding house, ready for a nice, stiff drink. I am tired of all this psycho shit. Before long there will be unicorns galloping down the streets with hundreds of crazy Virgin Marys shouting in some shitty-ass language that no one knows. I could not handle it.

When I finally collapse in the den, I grab my still-half-empty scotch glass, tipping it up until the gold liquid can drizzle down my throat. I sit there, hour after hour, thinking. I don't think about much, but for some reason, it is the only thing I can bear to do. I find my hand slipping into my pocket, pulling the tattered rag out until I can fix my eyes on it. I read the words over and over, contemplating. About what? I have no idea.

Then it hits me. I grab the phone, dialing little Bonnie Bennett's number. There are crazy people in the world, but with Elena...something is different. I can feel it. The weird language, the emergence from the forest, the full moon. This girl could only be a psycho of the supernatural variety. Great...just fucking great, but I need some answers, so with one last eye roll, I press the phone up to my ear.