[ON HOLD temporarily] 𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐑. 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍

Chapter 15: The Turning Point, II

Damon cautiously walked into the warehouse, looking around for any sign of danger, but as he turned to the side, he was suddenly hit by a series of wooden bullet, causing him to collapse onto the floor from pain. 

"I have tons of these wood bullets, so nothing funky," Logan appeared from the shadow, a gun in his grasp with a smug smile that made Damon narrowed his eyes.

Damon groaned, "You don't wanna do this, trust me."

Logan shot a bullet into his shoulder, making him screamed in agony as blood oozing freely out of the wound.

"That's what you get."

"For what?" Damon gritted out.

He crouched down to Damon's level and spat, "You made me like this."

"I killed you. I didn't turn you," Damon said, pulling out a bullet from his chest with a loud hiss.

"See I know what you and your brother are. I've been watching the two of you. I knew you'd show up here and I'm glad you did, because I have some questions."

"Me first. Who turned you?" He dropped a bloodied wooden bullet on the ground, scrunching his nose in disgust.

"How should I know? Last thing I remember is, I'm about to stake your brother and then you grabbed me. That's it! Until I wake up in the ground behind a used car dealership on highway 4. Somebody buried me," Logan spat out, anger slowly seeping through him as he remembered what happened in the midnight.

"It happens."

"You bit me," He said in disbelief at Damon's nonchalant attitude.

"Damn it," Damon extracted another bullet from his thigh, frowning as he inspected the wooden projectile.

Logan shook his head, denying, "It had to be you."

"You have to have vampire blood in your system when you die. I didn't do that. Some other vampire found you, gave you their blood."

"Who?"

"That's what I wanna know."

"Dude, it's not like the welcome wagon was waiting with a bundt cake and a handbook. It's been a learn as you go process," With his heightened emotions, Logan began to prattle, "You know, one minute, I'm a small town on the rise news guy and next thing I know, I can't get into my house, because my foot won't go through the door."

"You have to be invited in," Damon said absentmindedly, attempting to stand up with his newly healed legs.

"I know. I live alone."

He chuckled lightly in amusement, "Ah, that sucks."

"So now, I am at the Ramada, watching pay per view all day, eating everything in sight, including housekeeping."

"It could be worse."

"All I can think about is blood and killing people. I can't stop killing people. I keep killing," A laugh erupted from his chest, a glint of craziness flickered in Logan's eyes, "And I like it. I'm conflicted."

"Welcome to the club," Damon commented, shrugging, but furrowed his eyebrows when confusion raised, "Wait a minute. Cops only found one body."

"I left one. I was tired," Logan lied, "But I've been hiding the rest of bodies. They're right back there," He stepped aside, revealing a pile of dead bodies.

Damon's eyes widened in shock and breathed out, "You're kidding."

"They're just piling up!" He threw his arms up in frustration, his anxiety seeping through as he started to ramble again, disorganized, "And it's very exhilarating and annoying! I-I have to lay low or else they'll- they'll, but it's so hard! Why am I so overly emotional? All I can think about is my ex-girlfriend and those scary dudes. I wanna be with her and bite her and stuff, but then I'm gonna– gonna– Urgh!"