Salvation - 𝐊𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

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𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒆, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒘
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The calm before the storm was undoubtedy over and I was currently unlocking the doors to hell, walking right into the storm itself.

I'd managed to enjoy a solid 3 hours with Damon and hell, even Rebekah. She came downstairs to raid the wine cabinet only for Damon to start an argument about how she wasn't entitled to anything in the house. Her only reply was, "It's a boarding house. Everybody is entiled to everything."

They were at it for a few minutes before Rebekah—to Damon's utter annoyance and my complete amusement—started ignoring him completely and instead resigned to lounging on the sofa—again, to Damon's utter annoyance—as if she owned the place and only chiming in to add little comments onto whatever we were talking about.

I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty entertaining, right up until I got a spare moment to glance down at my phone and saw the spam of messages left by Tyler. He never really resorted to calling, knowing I was usually in the presence of supernaturals who could easily overhear his words.

I walked into the living room to find a few blood bags littering the floor. Before it used to be vodka and now it's blood. Bloody hell. The stains would be a pain to get out and just thinking about the brand new chore that awaited me, made me wanna plunge off a cliff.

My eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for him. Maybe-

"Where were you."

I gasp and reach my hands up to try and claw his off my throat but he only pushed me further into the wall. He moves so fast now.

Predator.

My short breaths came out ragged and I couldn't piece together words to answer him. Tyler, as if realising this, slightly loosened his grip on me and I rushed to answer.

"Da–damon".

His eyes flashed with rage and he leaned in closer until his breath fanned my ear and whispered, "Next time, you better be home before I am." His grip tightened further and he lifted my head up, staring right into my eyes with his all consuming anger. "Do I make myself clear?"

I was finding it hard to think past the wretched smell of blood lacing his breath but finally—seconds before I think he was about to probably snap my neck—I said, "Yes, I'm sorry. It won't happen again".

"Yeah, you'd better make sure it doesn't," he said with a final shove before pulling away from me and walking away to his room like nothing had happened. It hadn't, though. This was normal and probably deserved.

I brought my hands up to survey my neck. Bruised. Deciding to take a closer look, I head over to the decoration mirror hanging in the living room and crane my neck for a better view.

Better than I expected. The only prominent bruising is on the side of my throat and my jugular. It should be easy enough to cover with my hair, considering, there's no way in hell I would adorn a scarf around my neck in this blistering heat.

I hear Tyler's room door open distantly and I quickly move away from the mirror and try to stand as casually as possible. He only calls out from his doorway for dinner to be ready in twenty minutes and I give him a quick affirmation before raiding the kitchen for anything that can be made that fast.

Finding nothing and having no energy to cook, I resign to just making frozen pizza. At least, I know Tyler likes it so it's likely to put him a better mood so I can get him to talk about how he's doing with everything.