Gabriella Gilbert Three || Vampire Diaries

Chapter Twenty

    If there is one constant in my life, it is my ability to absolutely rage.

    Giving into my violent tendencies has gotten me through many things: my parents' death, my sister's transformation, and even my daily stressors. Punching something, or someone, has always calmed me down.

Now, it's getting me through my breakup.

I jab at the punching bag dangling from the sturdy tree branch, focusing on my form rather than my strength. I can pop this open easily if I want to, but I only have so much to work with right now. Finding punching bags is surprisingly more difficult than you'd think.

I was stupid to think our relationship could work out right now. I was stupid to believe nothing would change once Klaus had his kid. I'm just grateful I realized my shortcomings before the kid was born.

The thought of my stupidity forces me to punch the bag just a little harder than I mean to. I've been outside for almost an hour now, and I've started to sweat. My curls are pulled back into a bun to keep from sticking to my neck.

I only have to worry about two things: making sure my heart stays in my chest, and fixing my friendship with Stefan.

We still haven't had a proper talk since that kiss that, unfortunately, changed everything. It's my fault for sure. I haven't been exactly present since we stopped the romantic visions he and Elena were having.

    In my defense, I haven't stayed at the Salvatore's since then either. Damon decreed a "no doppelgänger" rule, and I don't mind obliging. Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie were kind enough to let me crash in their dorm. Elena doesn't mind sharing a bed, thank goodness.

    Unfortunately, she and Stefan are having a study session. I was invited, of course, but I'm not ready to sit with that awkwardness until Stefan and I can talk about it.

    So here I am, punching and kicking at a bag because I was stupid enough to let one kiss lead me down a path of critical thinking.

    One too-hard kick bursts the bag, making my shoulders sag. Damn it, now I gotta grab another one.

    My mood worsens at the sight of my final punching bag lying behind me, ready to be beaten. The other two I've practically deflated lie pathetically beside it.

    This isn't working, I think to myself as I prep the next bag. I need something sturdier. Or someone.

    No, I can't do that. My anger is bigger than a simple sparring session. I don't think I can hold back as much as I want to. Taking my anger out on a bag is one thing but on a person? That's crossing a line.

I refuse to be the sad, pathetic girl I was after my first breakup. I won't be wasting away on a blood and alcohol binge again. I'm stronger than that.

So, punching bag it is.

    I've been fighting the urge for the last couple of days to call or text Klaus. As distant as we've been lately, he's still my person. I miss talking to him, being with him. We may not be together now, but I know we will be in the future.

    I just need to...I don't know.

    Another punch to the bag.

This violence doesn't feel enough this time. My knuckles barely ache, there's no blood or pain. I need to feel the consequences of violence, not just inflict them.

The punching bag isn't enough. Another punch.

    My phone rings and it's the only reason I stop my onslaught of punches against the bag. I let out a huff before grabbing my phone from my bag.