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I drive down mysterious country lanes and I turn the radio on, letting the legendaries Rolling Stones spread their talent through the speakers of the car. I have no idea of where I am going, I will just keep on driving and following the road. I have landed in Virginia a few hours ago and I have stolen this car, obviously killing the owner. I had no choice, even if the voice of my dead mother still rings in my ears repeating the contrary.
I was running after my sister Lucy and we were happily playing around the house. Suddenly, she stopped and chanted a spell that caused me a terrible migraine. I fell down on my knees, totally unable to react or make the pain die out. She was satisfied, our father had done a great job with her. «Come on, Clary! Fight me back» she teased me, laughing joyfully. I was crying, my vision was blurry, so I did the only thing that could work. My parents had forbidden me to use my dreadful ability, but it was my only chance to defeat her so I wrapped my hand around her dowel and I began to suck the magic out of her.
Lucy cried out in pain and broke the spell that was inflicting me that excruciating pain. I had won, I was safe, but my mother stormed into the living room and went to hug my sister. She left me there on the floor and did not even bother to ask me how I was doing. I could have died, but we all knew she did not care. I was the defective daughter, the shame of our family.
«Why did you do it? You could have killed Lucy! You're just an envious monster. Your father is right» she yelled, as I stared at her broken-hearted. «She was hurting me! I had no choice» I said, feeling utterly sorry. She shook her head and ,before leaving me alone , she stated «We all have a choice».
I keep on driving, trying to forget the saddest memories of my life, until I spot a man drinking from a bottle not too far from the signboard of Mystic Falls. I pull over and get out of the car, walking casually towards him. He is wearing a black leather jacket and he is holding a bottle of Bourbon in his hand. I would dare to say he is sad.
«Hey, stranger, are you okay?» I ask , crossing my arms against my chest and tilting my head to the side. He shrugs and takes a sip of his Bourbon «I'm about to die, so it doesn't matter. Who are you?».
«I'm just the happy homicidal maniac who has murdered a whole coven of psychothic witches and left Russia. I'm Clarissa Maximoff, by the way, what's your name?» I ask, feeling waves of magic coming from him. I'm pretty sure he is a vampire.
He stiffens and winks at me «Well done, dear. I'm Damon Salvatore. Wanna help me to kill a group of travelers? I warn you: you might die». «Suicidal missions are my thing. Where are they?» I say, smiling evilly and putting a strand of hair behind my ear.
I have just arrived in America and I am already making deals with an unknown vampire who is most likely drunk, but freaking hot.
