CENTURIES, stefan salvatore [1]

We All Go a Little Mad Sometimes

CHAPTER 64: WE ALL GO A LITTLE MAD SOMETIMES

A/N: trigger warning: contains attempted suicide

The Gilbert House

Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe she didn't actually see all of the blood over he bathroom and she didn't have crazy hallucinations. Maybe they were all a dream. God, she hoped it was a dream. If not, maybe she was even crazier than she had started to think. At least, when she woke up, she didn't see her bedroom covered in disappearing blood, but she just saw her normal, white walls with a few photographs here and there (and they weren't disturbing enough to have blood on them or in them).

She sighed as she forced herself to walk down the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake either Jeremy or Elena (and perhaps Stefan if he had decided to stay in her sister's room for the night, but she highly doubted it) but she did really just need something to clear her head. She didn't know what but she just needed something and decided to get a glass of water so that she just have some sort of remedy for something, even if it only was for her dry throat.

She allowed the water to run for a few moments, waiting for it to get as cold as she wanted, but she shuddered as she felt a chill, but simply shook it off, taking it as her simply being cold because it was in the middle of the night.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked from behind her. She turned around abruptly in surprise, because she didn't hear any footsteps nor did the voice sound like either Jeremy or Elena. But when she looked to where she heard the voice, nobody was there.

She was trying so hard to convince herself that she was as sane as ever and simply took a deep breath and grabbed a clean glass from the counter and poured some water in it. She took a sip of the drink and closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them, she saw someone else in the reflection. She spun around, dropping her glass on the ground, it smashing to pieces as she saw the familiar face of her last kill. Connor.

"You know, this would make sense if you actually felt guilty. Then you'd have reason for having difficulty sleeping and for your hands shaking. But you don't, do you?" he smirked as she tried to calm her icy cold fingers that just wouldn't stop shaking.

She studied him and couldn't believe that he actually looked so real, and it seemed like he had never died. The brunette let out a laugh as she finally figured out what it had to be. "Oh, I get it. It's a dream. You can't be here."

He snickered at the thought and took a step closer to her, but she took a step back involuntarily as she had this need to keep distance between them, maybe she was unable to control how she felt and without even realized it was overtaken by fear. "And how do you know that I'm not here?"

"Because you're dead!" she snarled at him, not even seeming slightly guilty about being the reason why he was, in fact, deceased.

"Yes, I am. And who's fault is that?"

She glared at him before glancing at their reflection in the window again, but he was still there and didn't disappear. She let out an involuntary bitter chuckle as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. "Wow, this is a very vivid dream. Oh god."

"Aren't you supposed to not feel pain in dreams? Do you want to test that theory out?" he asked, and before he even got an answer, he was grabbing her by her throat, not allowing her to breathe. She tried her best to gasp, but then she saw that there was a knife on the counter and really wanted to thank Jeremy for never putting the knives where they should be.

She tried her best to make her hands listen to her, but for some reason they just wouldn't. Her arm just kept waving itself around, but eventually, it waved itself towards the knife and would allow itself to listen. She quickly copied her move from the previous day and shoved it in the side of his throat.