PLS DONT READ THIS IT ONLY FOR ME THANK YOU

THE TRUTH

She had grown up in this room. She had slept in this very spot for eighteen years.

The baby's crib in the corner had eventually been replaced with a child's cot, decorated with the requisite flowers and ponies that most every young girl fancied at some point in their childhood, and then been discarded for a larger bed once maturity had set in at the wise age of thirteen and she had deemed it high time to grow up.

She had grown up in this room. She had slept in this very spot for eighteen years.

And now, Elena Gilbert would grow up no more. Whether by the thievery of death or the ignorance of time, she had lost that precious chance.

She would forever bear the face of a young human girl who had greedily longed for too much, and while many would have called that a blessing, Elena could only mourn what would never come to be. Images spun with cruel taunting throughout her mind—a small child, bearing her deep brown gaze and another's mischievous smile, perhaps; a mirror she peered into curiously, marveling at the laughter lines crinkling at her eyes and the gray that peppered once-flawless russet curls; the contentedness of a life that seemed far too short to those granted immortality, and yet just enough to those who had learned the beauty of the ephemeral.

Hours had passed thus far, the clock's ticking a slow dirge that accompanied the gradual whittling away of her remaining life.

Elena had been lying there, in that familiar bed of hers, for the better part of the day, curled up in Jeremy's protective grasp. Shock, numbness, and an overall listlessness were not feigned at this point, and she remained voluntarily deaf and unresponsive to the worried murmurs and strained veins of conversation cluttering the air above her bowed head.

She needs to feed, Damon had said, an audible tremor in his voice. He struggled to mask it with brusqueness.There's not much time left. A few hours…and she'll…

Even without looking, Elena knew his eyes would be wide with a rippling undercurrent of fury, that his hair would be mussed from repeated, anxious running of his hands through it. Damon had never dealt well with pressure, and for all his years as a vampire had sadly never come to accept the fact that all people, especially those he cared about, would eventually come to die.

We can't force her to, came Stefan's familiar baritone and tortured tone.

Dear Stefan probably had his careworn brow furrowed in deep consternation, his mouth turned down in that permanent grimace of his. She can picture it in her head with a startling clarity, like a beloved memory or cherished picture. It was a picture she was loathe to lock away in the portion of her heart belonging to the past, but she needed to do it now.

She was out of time for growing up, after all.

This is all my fault, Matt lamented. It should have been me, it should have been me.

And Matt...sweet Matt, who wrings his hands and clenches his fists whenever he's frightened, unable to articulate exactly what he feels. Whether five years old and facing the playground bully, or eighteen and witnessing his best friend die, it was comforting to know that Matt was the same gentle constant in her life he had always been.

We can't let Elena die! Even...even if she's a vampire, it's better than the alternative! Caroline cried.

She'll be chewing nervously on a finger, distress in her blue gaze and mouth slightly agape. It never fails in giving her a rather vacant look; one Elena and Bonnie have mercilessly teased her about in the past. Caroline had never been one to do things by halves, for her heart was too big and her feelings too irrepressible, and Elena dearly hoped that one of her best friends was not about to drag her out into the streets by the roots of her hair and force her onto some unsuspecting passerby.