The hidden Salvatore, she called herself. A secret she had so carefully kept over the centuries.
She enjoyed being kept a mystery. Enjoyed the hunt and the looks on people's faces when they realized her true identity.
Decade after decade she built...
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"I wore a mask for so long I don't know how to take it off."
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It was back.
After so long kept at bay my hunger was near unbearable. My thoughts all consumed with the prospect of blood. So long It had been since I had felt this feeling. The way everything around me felt like water as it warped and rippled, creating a pain-filled reality where my thoughts never strayed from my one basic need.
Starvation was my only friend. Leaving me only in a state of agony as I tried to keep it away. To keep myself sane.
Tried and failed as all I could do was think about sinking my teeth into someone's neck and drinking until the feeling was gone and once again my mind was clear as crystal.
But that day would not come for a long while. Not even once they figured out that I wasn't compelled. They would probably come up with some other excuse like I was placed under a spell, or possessed. Anything to keep themselves the good guys in their own minds.
No one would come for me down here. Not as long as they kept it a secret.
I didn't doubt that Klaus was well on his way out of town. I would be too had I not been kidnapped. Starved and held prisoner by my own family—no. Not family. Not anymore.
Rebekah would have no idea I was here. She wouldn't come to this wretched house if she had a choice in the matter. I wouldn't either.
Elena may have morals and would be upset as to what they were doing. But she would never go against Stefan and Damon. She would argue and tell them it wasn't right, but in the end, she would give in to what they wanted.
Caroline was my only hope.
But I didn't doubt they knew that too. Which is why she would be the last person to ever find out if my brothers had anything to do with it.
I was alone in this. Stuck in this miserable cell as they starved and stripped me of all I held dear.
The pain of hunger being my only constant. My singular need.
The pain that struck me like a knife to my gut, as my body called and screamed for blood. The pain that had me writhing on the floor as though my body were going through withdrawals. I supposed in a way it was.
I had been here, sitting in his dark cell for a week and I felt myself drifting. Falling away, lost in my cravings.
