SET IN: Vampire Diaries Season 2, 3
Havana Sommers desperately needed a place to hide. She thought that by staying with her cousin, Elena Gilbert, in the seemingly normal town of Mystic Falls, her fiancé could never find her.
Did anybody tell her th...
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Havana didn't know what time it was. Or why she was suddenly awake. Thankfully, the window by the desk hinted that the sun no longer shined in this hour. She rolled onto her back and sighed silently replaying the events of today in her head. Only a few memories were made today, yet they were dramatic. After the gang's little meeting this morning, Havana marched upstairs, slammed the door, and began drinking herself to sleep in the comfort of Damon's own room. That's the only place she felt safe enough to cry. Because she knew that he would give her space and will block anyone who dares try to come in. Another reason why this unlikely pair became best friends. They share the same personality; the humor with Damon being the king of sarcastic remarks whereas Havana being the queen of sassy comebacks, crazy fun shenanigans that always ends in trouble, the love for alcoholic beverages and the pain. Oh yes, the pain. The pain of their hearts bleeding for someone while being ripped into a million pieces is what binds these two together. Damon and Havana hardly spoke about this topic nor even try to bring it up but they knew from the second they saw each others' broken smiles that they would truly understand each other. Oh no, the tears are threatening to fall down Havana's eyes. Honestly, she was exhausted by crying. She may have just woken up just a few minutes but her energy belonged to a person who hadn't slept for days. Her broken heart torn open and became a fresh wound again. So fresh that Havana had the urge to bang her head against the wall whenever she thought of the bastard. So she reached for the nearest bottle. Fuck, empty. Now another one. Empty. And other, empty again, are you kidding me?
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A wave of nausea came over Havana, her stomach also started to rumble. It only took half a second for her to throw her pillow onto the floor and rip the sheets covering her body before dragging her feet to the bathroom as quickly as possible. The puke made its way in the toilet bowl just on time. Havana knelt in front of the toilet gripping each side of the white toilet seat. Thankfully, her hair was already up in a messy bun, so she didn't have to worry about her puke going to her hair. Still, she felt terrible. Even after vomiting, she clutched her stomach in bed. Using both of her arms, she pushed herself up. The alcohol effect was still taking a toll on her. It took a lot of effort for her not to take a tumble on the bathroom floor. "Whatever at least I got it over with." She mumbled staring at the green-colored liquid in the toilet before flushing it.
