[the past] | completed

wounded

"What do we do now?" My voice was small and fragile. I stayed in my frayed position, safely behind Damon.

"Veronica."

I spun around and met eyes with Stefan. Enzo followed close behind.

"We heard your conversation with Jughead. Right before he... flipped his switch," Enzo said.

I looked at the ground and back up at them. Everyone was watching me because I suddenly turned around out of nowhere.

"There was nothing but truth in that conversation," I defended.

"More like a lecture, but we never said there wasn't, love." I crossed my arms, wondering where this was going.

   "What are you saying?"

   "We're just saying that... maybe you could've gone a bit easier on Jughead. I mean, as vampires, we know and can sense our kind and how they feel. And we could both tell he was heartbroken," Stefan said, breaking the air softly.

   "Why would he be?"

   Stefan and Enzo looked to each other. Obviously there's something I don't know.

   "What am I missing here?" They both let a smile draw onto their mouths.

   "It's not our place to say, love."

   "Who are you talking to?" I turned to see everyone examining me as if I was an endangered species. Which, I guess, in a way, I am.

   "Enzo and Stefan. They're saying nonsense about-"

   I looked back to see the thin air, no one standing in it.

   I let my hands drop to my sides, and I looked back to the staring crowd.

   "Welp, they're gone now." I sighed while looking out the window to the pure darkness.

   "So," I started, looking back to them, "where am I staying?"

____________________________________

2 weeks later

____________________________________

   "Veronica, we need to talk."

   I looked up from my glass of bourbon— which I began to drink a lot since I started staying here. I mean it's not like they were short on it— to meet Damon's icy eyes.

   "About what, demon?" I tried to slightly lighten the mood with my nickname for him, but his expression told me this was not a light conversation.

   "I want you to promise not to freak out, first." I nodded as if it would be a breeze. "Okay," I stretched out.

   He then tore something out from behind his back and threw it on the table in front of me.

   Files.

   So many files. A stack past my head. And they had a paper clip holding all the papers inside together.

   "I spared you of the visual and quite graphic pictures," he said sourly.

   "What is this?," I asked, starting to slowly flip through the papers.

   "This is Jughead's doing. Ever since he flipped his switch and left two weeks ago, he's been traveling all across the east coast, murdering, killing hundreds— thousands." I looked up to Damon, hoping this wasn't real.