Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⌠ 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙎𝙄𝙓𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 ⌡ ───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────
How do you recover from killing someone? How do you open your eyes the next morning, realised that you've taken a life and manage to go about your day? Rory Gilbert had no idea. Stefan had tried to convince her that it was okay—that it was in the name of self-defence. The man had come into her house and he would've killed her if Rory didn't do it first. Rory managed to learn his name. His name was Brady. Rory killed Brady by stabbing a pair of scissors through his neck; the very scissors that was placed on her dresser, cleaned of blood and spotless.
Tyler had disappeared, leaving her with nothing but an apology and another hug. He left town, according to Carol Lockwood. All Rory knew about her victim is that he was a werewolf determined to take matters into his own hands so that the vampires couldn't break the curse first.
"You look like shit," Damon ungracefully commented as he entered her room. Rory was wrapped up in a blanket burrito, cheek squished against her pillow. Her laptop sat opened in front of her, a random show on Netflix playing as background noise. She hadn't slept the entire night—she couldn't—and was recuperating her strength. Sort of. "Elena told me you haven't been up the whole day."
She felt like she didn't have the will to even sit up, much less go around and plaster a smile on her face. It was one of those days; the days that seemed never-ending and dark, the days where she felt too tired and exhausted to deal with anything. It was worse now, because she had killed someone the night before and she couldn't escape.
"Not really up for it," Rory replied, voice slightly muffled through the fabric of her blanket.
Damon ended up sitting at the edge of her bed. He tugged a piece of hair from her face. "You can't just stay in your room all day, Rory,"
"Yes, I can. You're not the boss of me," Rory muttered.
"It wasn't your fault," Damon said. "He was trying to kill you."
"I don't want to talk about this," Rory burrowed her face further into her covers.
"But you need to hear it. What you did was out of self-defence—"
"I killed someone, Damon," Rory interjected. She turned around to face him. "Brady probably had a family; a husband or a wife and kids, and he's never going to come home. Because I killed him. And I'm not even going to jail for it because you buried the body and compelled everyone who dared to look twice. I don't even get to suffer the consequences of my actions."
"Because you don't deserve to go to jail, Rory!" Damon exclaimed. "You were trying to defend yourself!"
"Self-defence could've been done in a lot of different ways," Rory's hand ghosted over her throat, as if she could feel the scissors piercing through her flesh. She rested her head back against the pillow as she felt her lip quiver. "I said I don't want to talk about this anymore. Just leave me alone."
