The Return of Damon Salvatore ⚜ TVD

deux - marionette

A/N : sorry for any typos and errors, I just wanted to get this chapter out quick. Hopefully, this isn't all that shitty lol. Enjoy!

ii - Marionette

THE DARK, MURKY grey walls accompanied by a stretch of moss encompassed the upper corners of the ceiling. The stone floor possessed the same grey of the walls, glinting from the only light source of the small and cramped room. It emitted an orange glow, giving the whole room a sense of horror and dread. There was a eerie stillness surrounding the whole cellar. The room ― which would better be said a prison ― remained still with only an occasional shuffle or two from outside the cellar breaking the monotone silence between intervals.

This carried on for what seemed like an eternity later, before being interrupted by a loud groan. The groan pierced through the air like a knife, sounding as sharp as a telephone's ringing. The man's body flexed itself, popping muscles all across his body, scaring the few curious rodents that had sneakily made its way near his head. The man made no indication that he noticed it, seeing as all his attention was focused on the severe pain spanning across his entire body.

"Goddamit." He squeezed out between sharp intakes. He rolled onto his right side, both his hands not knowing where to clutch onto first; his burning stomach or his pounding brain. Finally, both hands settled on both areas and the olive skin-toned man laid there, not caring about the loud moans and groans that spilled out of his mouth. He wished he could say he was getting used to the pain, but he couldn't. The pain came in erratically, fading away into nothingness one second...before coming back more intense than the last. He let out a shaky breath, wondering how he hasn't shed a single tear yet from the excruciating pain. This single question of his spiked a session of trying his best to squeeze tears out. But the attempt proved futile.

A thought wormed its way into his brain like a parasitic worm. Like the devil, it whispered in his ears and filled his chaotic mind with one thought. I can't cry⎯ what ⎯ I- I can't cry! Ideas and theories amassed in his brain. His emotions began to fluctuate as his brain struggled between believing what was true and what was not. This seemed to make the man turn hopeful one moment and deflate the other. His warring thoughts proceeded to go back and forth; giving him the impression of an incoming migraine.

While he was having an internal debate on his mental state, a certain preppy blonde-haired girl was pattering towards his cellar door. He hadn't noticed at first...Hah, he wished. He didn't know how, but his hearing completely made a 360° turn. If before his hearing was passable at best, now it was sharper than ever. Even while occupied within his thoughts, he was somehow able to hear her foosteps from miles away. Of course he didn't think about it much at first ― but clearly he should've. He couldn't just randomly hear someone from a mile away. He shouldn't. The instant she arrived, it was as if the whole world had gone on reverse mode. His once writhing body had now settled itself into its original, stiff position. The discomfort, added with the gnawing pain and fear that were shown distinctly on his face did nothing to show of it. It stayed impressionably clear and devoid of emotions, as if the man in pain a few seconds ago wasn't him.

He made to move against this foreign and invisible force but found he was incapable of doing so. Every inch, every vein, every muscle in his body was being controlled. It disturbingly reminded him of a marionette being handled by a marionettist. And he⎯ was the marionette. To his horror, his previously closed eyelids forcibly sprang open, as if a hand was firmly grasping them open. He struggled again, not willing to bend to this forceful power, but backed down after ending up exhausting his will power. He sighed tiredly in his mind as his eyes ― the only thing movable at this point ― roamed the 180° degrees his vision was restricted to. He felt an inexplicable feeling when he found his vision to be clear and not blurry as it should be.

When did my vision get better? Matter of fact, why the fuck can't. I. move.

His mind hadn't yet processed all that was happening, and the sight before him wasn't helping matters. Matter of fact, if it weren't for this oppressive force placed onto him, he would've long gone to meet Hades in the underworld due to pure, unbridled shock. There, in all her glory, was Candice King. A young Candice King.
His mouth hung open subconsciously as he stared, bewildered at the younger version of his celebrity crush standing right in front of him. Stunning him even more were the words that followed. "Caroline, help me ― Caroline. Help me."

Caroline ― What ―

The pretty blonde looked between the broad cellar door and him confusedly. "Oh, my god! What is this? How did I know that you were here?"

Once again, as if on it's own accord, he's forced to watch as his own body defies him. His mouth shoots open and words tumbled out one by one even before he could get the chance to stop it. "Because I wanted you to," A groan escaped his lips as his body forced itself up. "Very,―" He stepped toward the door, pain wracking his body. "―very badly. Let me out of here. Please."

An ominous feeling of dread rose up like vapour at his words. It all clicked. It all made sense ― the pain, the familiar dialogue, young Candice ― but at the same time it shouldn't.

It can't be. No...He can't be him.