Words Unspoken (The Vampire Diaries)

Chapter 4

I force Elena to go outside. She has spent all morning watching movies in the den, completely absorbed by them. My house sounded like the fucking Sound of Music, catchy tunes blaring loudly wherever I went. And hiding away from it was the easy part, but keeping my breakfast quiet was another story. I eventually resorted to a mix between compulsion and neck snapping because the little human fucker wouldn't stop squealing, no matter what I tried.

We have been sitting in the yard for a while now and even I am growing bored. I look over and she's playing in the grass, picking at some small critters. I sigh for the millionth fucking time. All I want is my freedom back, the freedom to spend my days at the bar or making some innocent human suffer under my control. Not this. Stir crazy cannot even begin to describe how trapped I feel in my own home. This temporary arrangement better be fucking temporary.

"Hey Elena," I finally say.

She looks up at me with those does eyes, wide and pathetic as always, pulling them away from whatever freakiness she has been a participant of. Maybe behind those brown orbs is a malicious young girl plotting how to kill me in a variety of gruesome ways. Sometimes her innocence is almost too potent that it's suspicious. Weird isn't it? How being the epitome of anything can result in the complete opposite of its intent. If you're too good of anything, people automatically assume something is wrong. All I know is, she better not be a fucking serial killer trained in the deserts of Uganda to mutilate vampires, only after making their victims feel all warm and fuzzy inside, of course.

We walk into the house together and her skinny little legs are already directing themselves toward the den. I grab her wrist in an instant, shaking my head. Why I fucking care if the girl wants to spend all day wasting perfectly good brain cells is beyond me, but it feels wrong somehow. Then out of nowhere, an idea comes to me. I can leave the house, I can have a life. This television will keep her occupied, out of trouble for at least a few hours at a time. How long could a blow job and a few drinks take?

All I have to do is feed, hydrate, urinate, and destink her before I leave. Well, Damon Salvatore, I must say that you my friend are a genius. I smile, finally regaining some of that lost enthusiasm about my situation. I sit her in the kitchen, preparing her lunch in the meantime. I even hum a little tune here and there. The taste of liberty is so sweet against my lips. I rush to steam the vegetables, whipping up some of that gruel-like oatmeal. Then, I smell something burning.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I scream, shutting off the burner.

I burn my hand trying to get the pot away from the heat, repeating that four letter word over and over. I don't really hear her at first, my cursing the only thing to really register. But then I realize, I'm not the one saying it anymore. It's a feminine voice, it's Elena's. I zip around to look at her. Her lips are moving, belting out the words.

"Foo-uck," She smiles, obviously proud of her work.

And so her first English word, ladies and gentlemen, was 'fuck'. Yes, out of the thousands of words in the English language, she chose that. Well, it's not like I don't say it enough around here. I stand there for a good minute, mouth ajar, just staring in wonder. Holy shit...she spoke. Now, whether to praise her or not. 'Fuck' is a bad word, but she's learning English, so how can I tell her she's bad for saying it?

I step over to her with a smile, taking her hand in my mine and squatting beside her chair.

"No, no, no," I begin, shaking my head, "Damon."

I change the word for her, not encouraging the word 'fuck', but not criticizing her desire to communicate. I point to myself, repeating it for her so that she can watch how my lips move to form the word. Her grin grows wide and she tries to mimic me. She likes the attention I'm giving her, understanding quickly that I want her to try it out.