Unwritten

Cave Drawings

It's not daylight yet but I'm as awake as an owl in the middle of the night. I walk around the cave for about twenty minutes to pass the time. I venture to the right side of the cave into the library. Damon isn't awake so I stay as quiet as I can, careful not to wake him.

What are you doing up so early? Damon whispers to me as I pace in front of the waterfall entrance, listening to the water fall behind the front door. His suddenness makes me jump.

I woke up about thirty minutes ago. Are you up? I whisper back softly after calming down. I feel a soft blanket drag across my skin. No. Not my skin. His. It must be his blanket then. He's getting out of bed. I sit down on the couch to wait for him.

Yes. Where are you? It looks really dark. You don't have any lights on? He sounds worried.

I'm just in the living room. I didn't want to wake you up so I didn't turn any lights on. I lay my head back.

I close my eyes and an image flashes behind my eyelids.The room is dimly lit. There is a bed in the far corner to the left, a desk parallel to it and a chair. The image begins moving. Oh. It's not a picture; I am seeing through Damon's eyes. He walks in front of a mirror, I see his skin for a moment before he passes it. He's not wearing a shirt. I feel like I should open my eyes to give him privacy. But I know so little about him. Maybe this will help. He walks to his closet to get clothes and walks back towards the mirror to get dressed. He looks into the mirror after pulling on a pair of black sweatpants. He looked toned, with muscles covering every inch of his body, that ripple every time he moves. He has a tattoo above his heart of a cluster of gears and a large scar on the left side of his rib cage and smaller scars covering the rest of his torso. Nice tattoo. The image suddenly disappears but not before I catch him snap his head up to glare at himself in the mirror.. I try to see him again but all I can see is a large iron wall. I'm sorry I didn't mean-. I don't continue and I let him be.

I walk into the kitchen to warm up some hot chocolate. I hope he isn't mad at me. Damon quietly walks up behind me and puts his arms around me. My body jumps again. I hadn't realized how cold I was until his arms were around me. Sorry. He rests his head on my shoulder. It's just... You picked out that tattoo for me in your last life. He sounds inconsolable and heartbroken. You aren't supposed to be able to do that - see through my eyes I mean - or feel what I feel. Not yet anyway. Damon whispers with abrupt grimness and lifts his head to back away. Cold chills replace the warmth his body emanated. I feel the need to be next to him again. I don't understand why. I just know that I need to be. I swiftly turn to hug him. He is shaking. He wasn't mad. He just wants me to get my memories back.

Damon walks away to the couch, where I had been sitting, leaving me in the kitchen to fend for myself. "What time is it?" I break the silence.

"3 a.m." He lays his head on the back of the couch and looks up at the fake cement stalactites hiding the utilities. I sit next to him and turn my body to face him. "I'm sorry for scaring you." I shake my head.

"You didn't. I just didn't think you'd be awake." I lean forward to put my forehead on Damon's shoulder. "So what did you mean when you said I picked out your tattoo?" His eyes open and he lays static for a moment before sitting up and turning to face me, again taking away his warmth from me and leaving me deprived of something I can't quite put my finger on.

"In your last life we were the best of friends. We spent everyday together until..." He stops talking with an impromptu guilt about him.

"Until I died." I complete his sentence. We both sat, unperturbed, in silence for minutes that felt like hours.