Bad Blood || The Vampire Diaries [1]

13: The Last Dance

   The past few days have been eventful for the Save Elena Squad: Elijah was dead, Katherine was out of the tomb, the famous Matt Donovan found out about vampires, Isobel returned and then killed herself in front of Elena, Bonnie knew a way to kill Klaus, Elena owned the Salvatore Boarding House because she needed a safe house, and Klaus was in town. It was all a jumble of problems, one after the other. Elena, Caroline, and Stefan had been sending me mass text messages telling me about the occurrences while I was gone. Oh, where was I?

   The moment Elijah died, everything he had done to me came back like a freight train. Every compulsion, big or small, burst in my mind like a bomb. It was a whirlwind of pain, of sadness, of anger. Those hidden memories were filled with so many emotions that I decided to lock myself up in my home. It wasn't for my sake, it was for the sake of everyone else. Each time a new memory arrived, I wanted nothing more than to turn off my emotions and feed. I wanted to drown myself in the sweet taste of blood until I was satisfied.

   "You've been locked in here for days!" Damon's voice rang through the room as he marched in. "You've been slacking enough. Come on, get dressed. You and I are chaperoning the dance."

   "I remember everything," I muttered, causing him to stop moving. "Damon, I remember everything Elijah ever did on me."

   "Is that why you've answered none of our calls?" he asked, taking a seat at the end of the bed. "Well, that explains why you've been sulking."

   "I've done some horrible stuff," I sniffed, pulling my legs to my chest. "I've killed so many people; I have so much blood on my hands. Damon, I think I'm worse than Klaus."

   "Clara, you can't possibly be worse than Klaus," he stated, rolling his eyes.

   "I killed for fun, how is that not worse than Klaus?" I scoffed and stood, crossing my arms. "I killed because it felt fun and exciting, because there was nothing better than the taste of blood. Elijah compelled me to be in control, and I don't think I'll be in control anymore because he's dead."

   "Have you had any blood since Elijah died?" Damon questioned, watching me as I paced back and forth. "Clara have you fed at all?"

   "I can't," I breathed shaking my head. "If I do, I won't be able to control myself, Damon."

   He stood and laid his hands on my shoulders, stopping me. "Clara," he whispered. "Hey, you can do this. You've been doing this without his help for fifteen years. Now, get dressed; the dance will take your mind off everything. We'll dance, scold underage drinkers, and plan Klaus's impending doom. Doesn't that sound fun?"

   I stared at him for a couple of seconds, and nodded. "Okay," I nodded. "Fine. Whatever. Forget my feelings."

   "I'm not forgetting your feelings, Clara," he sighed, following my moves with his eyes. "What I'm doing is trying to make you forget your feelings. I'm helping you here, Clara."

   "Whatever," I hummed, walking in to the bathroom to change.

   Damon had pulled out a dress from my closet as soon as he walked in. The dress was a black with a white collar, just like the dress Wednesday Adams wore. It was one of those dresses that women wore in the late 60's, sometimes with flower patterns and sometimes with a belt to adorn it. I decided to leave it as it was. The only colour I had was white, which were the collar. the ends of the arms, and the white tights with a diamond pattern. I pulled on a pair of black t-strap shoes and walked out, running a hand through my hair. Damon was sitting on the bed, a journal in his hands and his brows furrowed. He looked up.

   "Done?" he asked, raising a brow. I responded with a nod. He stood and walked out the door. I followed behind him, keeping my arms crossed. The house felt lonely, sad. I was both happy and worried about leaving the small comfort of my room.