Salvatore's Little doll

Chapter 2

Consciousness hits me like a pounding drum. Throughout the night I drempt of the life I had before, now wishing I never woke up. When I opened my eyes I expected to find myself in that basement once again, but this time I was in a bedroom. My hands and legs were finally free, though my wrists still bore the irritated marks of skin from what was presumably the night before. I sit myself up in the bed and look around the room as my eyes adjust to the contrast of light.

"Took you long enough to wake up." That unfortunate, familiar voice brings my focus back onto my predicament. On the far right side of the room stood the same mysterious man leaning on a doorframe. His features are easier to see in this lighting. Against my better judgement, I can't help but to notice just how beautiful he really is. He is wearing a simple day-to-day outfit, yet he makes it look like it belongs on the next Vogue magazine. I look away before my thoughts go somewhere I don't want them.

"Please let me go! I have nothing to give you, I don't have any money or anything else valuable. I swear I won't tell anyone if you just let me leave!" I plead, tears welling up in my eyes. I turn my head to look at him once more. My efforts seem to meaningless, the mysterious man's gaze doesn't seem to soften. Instead, it shifts to one of annoyance. One that screams apathy and self-absorption, with a possible hint of entertainment.

"I really don't care about you promising to keep shut, I know you would whether you wanted to or not. Also don't need your money, I'm rich as is. But there is something that you are able to give me, so just shut up and don't move." Before I can begin to protest, he is right beside me. I didn't see him move, just like the night before. Startled, I shove myself back against the bedframe, trying to scramble myself farther away. I am met with immediate resistance by the force of his hands.

An unbreakable grasp, strong as steel, held my body down with one arm and forced my neck to the side with the other. Damon is completely out of my few, his hand tilting my head towards the window. I try breaking free of his grip but it's like pushing myself against a wall. The sudden feeling of skin, followed by a stinging sensation, wraps around a section of my neck.

It feels like how I would imagine a shot at the doctors would feel if it contained pepper juice. I cry out in pain, my scream is almost guttural. Is he injecting something in me? Am I going to die? I try my best to look in his direction, careful not to move my head. I know that if I ended up moving, the feeling would intensify, and I had this sense that it could be dangerous for me. From what I could see, Damon's head was on my neck. That would have to mean it was his mouth on my neck, which doesn't make any sense. Where would the stinging sensation come from?

Before I can begin question him on the matter, I feel my sense of consciousness start to slip away. My eyes flutter shut repeatedly as my vision starts to blur I'm the corner of my eyes. Panic floods through me as I ponder over if I am dying. Desperate to get him to stop, I give a final attempt of a plea for freedom. "Please sto..." I don't get to finish my sentence as everything goes black.

As fast I passed out, I wake up. Without taking time to process anything, I frantically sit up and am immediately hit with an aching feeling around the right side of my neck. I groan in pain and look up to see Damon sitting in a chair across the room from me. He is in the same outfit as earlier so I assume not much time as passed. His face holds that look of amusement once more, that same look makes my frustration and confusion of everything bubble up to the surface.

"What the hell, Damon?!" I say, immediately wanting to take back my statement. I may be pissed off, but I would be a fool to ignore my fear still inside of me and his clear unnatural amount of power. All he does in response is roll his eyes at me and shoot a teasing smirk in my direction. "You know, you are a lot less annoying when you aren't conscious. Did you know that? You should be knocked out more often" I can't help but to scoff at his remark, which only seems to egg him on more.