Hurt and Heal

Chapter 11: Mark Trotter

"Blondie, please tell me this is just my imagination because I haven't slept enough last night." Damon is close to begging, he realizes, even as he bends down to start digging into the odd coloured snow, black flakes melting on his fingertips. His eyes water as the wind changes directions, his hands hurt from the cold and he curses his luck. Can't they ever do a normal road trip? The question itself is dumb, but fitting enough to be worth saying.

"Going to help? I'm doing all the –" he is cut short when he reaches ground - dank, dark ground - that holds the drawing of a ... well, a part of a star with a rounded line above. He can see about two corners and the start of the third, the line connecting the dots. He hears Caroline gasping and with the corner of his eyes, he watches as her hands fly to cover her mouth to stifle her yelp. Her hoodie also flies off her head, letting wild blonde hair blow freely in the harsh wind. He recovers from his shock fast enough to dig quicker and in a few minutes he is done while she is still kneeling there, unmoving. He's getting worried.

Caroline swallows, blinks a handful of times which only causes a few stray tears to run down her cheeks and then she comes back to her senses. She is assaulted by the black coloured hexagram on the hard, cold earth, looking every bit like the one in her vision, even with the snow surrounding it. She leans ahead slowly, her hand outstretched, fingers straining to touch the circle. Damon acts on reflex, lurching forward to stop her, but he's too slow for once. Just one finger, that's all it takes. The moment her flesh makes contact with the black line a scream is torn out of her and the hexagram flashes, a light so bright Damon is momentarily stunned. Caroline falls.

"Blondie ..." he says when he stops seeing multicoloured spots, but there isn't an answer and he gets concerned. "Blondie!" he screams, lifting his head and scanning the plain. He sees her, buried in the white snow. Her blonde hair is spread around her, tresses buried in snow, her head turned on the side, legs sprawled out long, unconscious.

"Oh, fuck! Blondie! Caroline! Care! Wake up!" he yells, his voice near hysterical as he shakes her body, back and forth, back and forth with no result. She's limp in his arms. He's even tried calling her "Care", a nickname she hates hearing from him because it's what Bonnie used to call her and since finding out about the coma and how Bonnie ended up like that, she couldn't stand the name. She would have answered, he ponders, were she alright.

I stood up, my eyes hurting, burning, and my limbs heavy. I tried to open them, but they hurt too much and as I lifted a hand I felt as though it weighted a ton – something that hasn't happened since I was human. I breathed in, slowly to calm myself. Panicking would only do more harm in these situations. With my eyes closed I tried to remember where I was, what I had been doing before waking up here. There are five long, excruciating minutes of complete and utter blankness, then I recall walking home, my fight with Tyler and our breaking up. I was ... close and then ... nothing.

Nothing? How can I remember nothing between then and now? How long ago has it even been? Not long from what my body tells me, but a few hours at least. My hunger is getting worse and I'd drunk a blood bag before leaving home.

A prickling sensation brings me out of my musings and my body feels heated. I can sense my blood as it moves through my veins and it hurts, it scorches and I let out a moan of pain. The odd feeling amplifies, accompanied by a harsh urge to open my eyes. It's as if there is a phantom hand pulling at my eyelids, forcefully opening them. I let it. It is in seconds that I realize I shouldn't have. I am greeted by the sight of two maybe three vampires, their eyes dark surrounded by blue veins and their fangs ready to sink into flesh. They are old; I can feel it as I can sense their power even before they get near. Older than Katherine. Fear, unlike any I had experienced before – and I'd had many opportunities for it – grips my insides and twists and twists until I can almost feel a hand on the inside.