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III: She Who Wants Everything
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Once Elena and Bonnie arrived, Reese took off from Caroline's house, doing what she did best — running away.
The night was young and the moon was high. She trotted along the streets of Mystic Falls, fingers tightly gripping her phone, stopping every now and then to collect herself. Her head hurt — from both the injury and the thinking.
The sad thinking, or whatever she was supposed to call it. Introspection was not one of her specialities. She always had something to keep her busy; the wheels of her mind turning without rest; new, duplicitous stratagems hatching. Perhaps the single constant in her life had been that she always had an enemy and an onerous plan to raze them. When she bragged about her wits, people assumed it was well-rounded — it wasn't, and after confronting that fact seven years ago, she'd resorted to swaying wherever the present took her.
Reese was mechanical in nature: place a target in front of her and she'd demolish it clean off the face of the earth.
Then she'd do it again, again, again.
She felt unusual. Restless. Her feet carried her all the way to the Mystic Grill, and she failed to realize it until she was standing in the parking lot, watching the crowd through the glass windows.
A couple of hours ago, she'd sped out of here in her car to find Caroline.
Her car. Right. She left it near the clearing.
She walked the entire way over here.
And god, her head hurt like a bitch.
She gripped her phone harder, as if that would make Elijah show up faster. It was hanging uselessly by her side, the rigid edges pressed harshly against her palm, sending tingles of pain across her nerves.
She tried to force her thoughts away from what happened tonight, but they wrenched out of her control. She kept replaying it. That phone call; that vampire; that desperation she'd felt for reaching Caroline that she forgot to keep herself safe.
