How Much Is Redemption

Chapter 2

Bonnie snapped a leg off one of the damaged wedding chairs, being cautious to do so, not wanting to alert Kai of her objective while he busied himself with his werewolf bite. She stalked towards him, slowly approaching from behind, brandishing the unpolished stake with the purpose of driving into his back. All she needed was one passable arc of the wrist and her walking-talking boogey monster riddled nightmare would be over. Along with every shortness of breath, the increasing anxiety of what she knew—and now witnessed—he could and would do – all of it. That would be done, this chapter of her life would be over and the ugliness that consumed her for the better part of two and a half years would disintegrate. Just like that and just like he would. It was that simple. She had to believe it.

She did believe it.

"You know what's funny? I didn't even know werewolves were real until I got bit by one," he piped up suddenly. "The thing is, Bon, the only way a guy turns into a wolf is if it's magic, right, so technically, their venom's magic, too."

Bonnie tightened her sweaty grip on the piece of wood the closer she got, blood pumping in her ears, practically drowning out what he was saying, kicking both anticipation and adrenaline into high gear.

"So I just went ahead and siphoned it up."

Wait. What did he say?

She blinked, mulling over what he'd chattered about the last few seconds, her mind racing almost as fast as her heart, an instinctive and warning sweat breaking out across her skin as he stood. 'No,' she thought with uncontrolled alarm, her eyes widening as he turned to face her.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered over and over, reading his immediate intent, the strength and determination seeping from her body almost as swiftly as it reentered his own. This was all wrong! This wasn't possible!

She gasped, contradicting her thoughts as an invisible hand closed around her, immobilizing, the piece of wood slipping from her grasp as she rose to the air, guided like a puppet being pulled from its stage. She wanted to cry, to scream and rage as he stared at her, his face amass of indecipherable emotion, no longer looking as though he was taking pleasure in what he was doing and every bit as though he planned to skin her alive.

That look frightened, haunted her dreams, and fuelled what she always knew: that he was a monster.

He appeared to read her thoughts, his face devoid of its usual mirth and momentarily contorted with hatred as he sent her flying across the spacious room. Air rushed from Bonnie's lungs as she bounced off the wall and crashed to the hardwood floor, hand-delivered to the layer of dead bodies already scattered around the shaken barn. She briefly blacked out, a sob tearing from her throat in panic as she hurdled back to reality, pain radiating throughout her body—agony she'd never experienced before—tears streaming down the sides of her face.

'I can't move,' she told herself in a voiceless panic, unable to flex her hands, to move her legs, and more importantly, she had to fight for her breath, her increasing heartrate doing nothing to support her troubles. She didn't want to go like this, she didn't want to feel her life slipping from her hands and know that she wouldn't get the chance to experience having a family of her own, a career or even something as indefinite as an actual future. She wanted those things, she wanted to make good of the vows she made to herself, and she no longer wanted to be alone.

Damon appeared as he always did, like they'd had a tiff moments ago and he realized what an ass he'd been. He'd fix this, he'd fix her and the pain would be gone.

"D—Damon..." she sobbed, his name barely struggling from her lips, her body prickling with overpowering relief that fleetingly overrode the blinding discomfort.