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THERE WAS AN excruciating pain the youngest Thorsen felt growing in her chest, although her body was physically fine, her heart wasn't. It was the kind of pain that's brought and felt emotionally, and to the girl lying on her knees on the cold tiles of the warehouse outside her small, problematic town, that pain in particular was one of the worst, because there was nothing to shut it down instantly, or a way to lower the amount. It was the pain that refused to leave and paralysed her whole body and mind in shock and cruel realisation of the truth.
As tears kept rolling down the blue eyed girl, making the colour of her irises even more vibrant, she heard footsteps nearing her position, running towards the broken girl. Her hair was glued to her tearful face, and the sobs, almost inaudible, coming out of her mouth alarmed the man standing confused behind her, approaching her side slowly to not scare her. Once he stood next to her, he saw the cold, still body lying in front of the girl.
Horrific didn't make justice to the way the scene looked from someone else's perspective. Ponds of blood surrounded the headless body, as lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling above them, with parted lips that showcased the last breath of that person, and several wounds and fresh cuts that decorated in a sinister way the dead body, from open wounds across the chest, to terrifying scratches on the legs and face.
This wasn't the face of someone he deeply cared for, or a person he got to know better. At least not for him, but for her...it was the face of someone she loved, of someone she grew up with her whole life. It was the face of the only person she trusted in more than she did in herself, and she had lost it to forces beyond their own reach.
Suddenly, no sobs came out of the girl's mouth, and instead of continuing witnessing how she broke more and more with each breath she took, he decided to help her get up. She put her raven hair behind her ears, pushing it away from her blue eyes. Wiping away the tears as well, she blinked repeatedly to focus on something different from the traumatic casualty of previous events.
"Are you okay?" The man asked, drifting his blue ocean eyes from the body to her. He frowned, knowing perfectly well who'd done that. It was the mark that gave his younger brother his infamous nickname. The Ripper. Seeing her that way pained him to no end, and even more knowing how the strong, stubborn girl he grew fond of had finally reached her breaking point because of someone she trusted and betrayed her.
Despite being aware of the fact that her father had been brutally murdered and tortured in front of her, and knowing she was devastated, the selfish part of Damon Salvatore felt relieved that he was finally gone, so he couldn't keep making empty –yet annoying threats to him and his brother.
His question wasn't the smartest one, for he could already guess the answer with just a quick glance at the girl before him.
"Why am I not dead?" The girl muttered, trying to hide the panic and every other emotion from her voice. "He wanted to kill us both, he wanted me dead."
