intricate design ✓

9.

Tongue-Tied

DEAR DIARY, I'm not a believer. People are born. They grow old, and then they die. That's the world we live in. How can I deny what's right in front of me? Someone who never grows old, never gets hurt. Someone who changes in ways that can't be explained. Girls bitten. Bodies drained of blood.

Ryan Fell walked around the room, papers crunching under his feet like leaves under the autumn sun. He pressed his lips tightly together as he examined the damage: an array of papers thrown around the room as if they were strings of thick, thin confetti. And in the midst of it all sat Florence Allen, who was blankly staring at the wall she faced. Crunches were heard behind her until they stopped all at once and Ryan sat down, pulling her into a hug.

She didn't mind the gesture but it went without saying that it made her the slightest bit uncomfortable. When she should have been cleaning the mess she had made in her slumber-possible evidence of sleep-walking, though the conclusion didn't quite make sense-she was silently sitting around with her best friend. She couldn't stay quiet; it was torture. She had to say something.

"Ryan . . . d-do you believe in the preternatural?-the unexplainable?"

He bit his tongue when she pulled away, worried that the wrong answer may send her down a spiral of questions. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he scratched the back of his neck, ears pink. "I-I don't know. I mean, I guess. Why?"

She frowned. "I've been seeing things for, like, the past week. It sounds crazy, but it all started when Stefan got here-maybe a little after. You don't think I'm going insane or something, do you?"

"Even the geniuses go a little mad sometimes, Flore," he muttered, grinding his teeth together nervously. There were signs of pity in his eyes, signs that Florence had ignored. "What kinds of things have you been seeing?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Well, it's not as much seeing as it is experiencing. After the Founder's Party, I woke up with papers covering my room like they are now. They all had this one name on them: Katherine Pierce. Does that mean anything to you?"

For a second, his eyes widened in alarm. And then, as if his mood hadn't just changed completely, he gave an uneasy smile. "It's probably just some cousin you have back in Louisiana. I wouldn't pay much attention to it; you'd only drive yourself insane."

"Like my Uncle Sean."

He frowned. "You know that's not what I meant."

She shook her head as she frantically moved around her room, tossing notebooks and clothes from her drawers. Ryan watched in panic, mind not comprehending what was happening before his eyes. "No, it's not that. My uncle, he left something for me. Before he died. I don't know where it went. It-it's some old necklace I almost threw away. Italy found it in the trashcan and put it somewhere in my room. I have no idea where it is, Ryan, I-"

Quickly, he ended her rambling by pulling her away from the drawers, his hands on her waist. She turned around in his hold and buried her head into his chest, the boy combing his fingers through her hair. In just the past couple days; the girl had gone through way too much. She'd gotten threatened by her best friend's boyfriend, who was extremely dangerous; she failed her first test; and she was on the brink of insanity.

"I think you need to rest, Flore. I'll clean this mess up; you just rest, okay?" he offered, already leading her to the bed set in the middle of the room.

Without another word, she nodded, following his gestures to lie on the bed. When she was fully tucked in, he sent her a charming smile, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. They lingered there for a few seconds, sending warmth throughout her body. And, when he pulled away, she was enveloped in cold, the spot where his lips had once touched her forehead tingling.

°

"BOO."

Florence's eyes flew open, moving to the right to see who it was that was in her room. When she saw that it was Elena, she sighed, sitting up. Before saying anything, she checked her phone for the time and, when she saw it, furrowed her eyebrows. Why was Elena at her house so early in the morning?

"You've got all the time in the world and you choose to come in at the ass crack of dawn?" She raised an eyebrow. "And how the hell did you even get in?"

"Italy let me in," she answered. Florence nodded, still finding their situation strange. When Elena sensed her confusion, she licked her lips. "Actually, I came here to tell you something. You have to promise not to tell anyone, alright?"

Florence nodded once again, her eyes a bit wide. "I won't tell anyone. What's so important, El? You're not pregnant or anything, are you?"

The blonde barely witnessed her friend's smile falter for half a second before she pulled it up again, this time making sure it stayed strong. "Of course not. You know I'm careful, Florence." The way she said her name had chills running down her spine; her sinister tone was haunting. "Keep your eyes open."

Suddenly, her face morphed into something resembling a bloodthirsty canine. Her once pure doe eyes were an unforgiving red and the veins under her eyes were more prominent. They were purple worms slithering from her eyes, hunting for their prey. And beneath her lips were snake-like fangs, sharp enough to puncture skin. When the blonde saw, she almost screamed.

"I'm going crazy," she breathed out. "You-you're not real. It's scientifically impossible. I have to be dreaming." She pinched her arm but to no avail. "What kind of game are you playing, El? What, is Jeremy hiding behind my curtains with a foam stake?"

At that, she seemed to have angered Elena. What happened next was so fast she could barely make it out. All she had seen were canines, rapidly targeting her neck. And the last thing she remembered was the sheer pain of it all. Her lips were forced open as a metallic liquid flowed down her throat, one she had mistaken for her own blood. She sobbed as she was forced to swallow, feeling a burning sensation in her throat from the crimson liquid.

Then, she saw black.