My Love Affair With Damon - A Vampire Diaries Fan Fiction

Chapter Thirty-Five - So I'm Screwing My Birth Father's Distant Relative?

" 'Hello. Hello. Anybody out there? 'Cause I don't here a sound,' " I sang. " 'Alone. Alone. I don't really know where the world is, but I miss it now. I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name like a fool at the top of my lungs. Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright but it's never enough. 'Cause my echo, echo, is the only voice coming back. Shadow, shadow, is the only friend that I have.' "

"Do you listen to anything other than crap?" Damon complained, turning off the stereo. I scowled at him before picking up the mug of stone-cold coffee I'd left on the table and throwing the liquid down my throat.

"It's better than that shitty metal music I've heard you playing," I tried, exiting the living room and making my way to the kitchen. I dumped the empty mug in the sink and made my way around the house aimlessly. There was nothing to be said, and nothing to be done. Tonight was the full moon, also known as one of the ingredients Klaus needed for his pathetic sacrifice ritual. The one where my father would be brutally, inhumanely murdered by a psycho vampire-werewolf hybrid.

It sounds morally correct, right? Wrong. It was the most unnecessary act of vigorous behaviour I'd ever had to endure.

As I'd watched him be dragged away last night, I felt no remorse. No regrets. There were no remotely negative feelings lingering inside of me. I was only capable of feeling...nothing.

I couldn't feel anything.

I felt numb. Like somebody was stopping me from accessing my humanity. Damon had told me all about the ability to switch off your humanity when you're a vampire, but I'd given that option no thought. If I was able to feel something, I was more than willing to let myself feel it. I didn't want to be a reckless ripper, much like Stefan had been in the past. I could never bare the thought of not feeling anything.

I slowly lowered myself onto my bed, folding my arms behind my head. The past hour had dragged on painstakingly, and all I longed for was to sleep.

However, the panic brewing inside of me was stopping my brain from temporarily shutting down. Images of my father tied up like a dog flashed across my eyelids whenever I closed my eyes. Damon had tried to help me push them away, but nothing he did seemed to help. It seemed as if this was how my life was supposed to continue.

"What're you doing in here?" Damon asked sympathetically, shifting his weight to his right foot and leaning against the door frame. "Thought you had a sacrifice to prepare for."

"What is there to prepare?" I mumbled, smothering my face with a pillow. "I'm going to watch a few people die. Big whoop. You're ex-lover is going to become one of the living dead, and the vampire whore is going to die. At last. So, my Dad's going to get his heart ripped out? Whoop-de-doo! I don't give a shit. He can go to fucking Hell for all I care."

"Now, don't be like that," Damon insisted, swiftly moving across the room and filling the empty space beside me. "You know that you care. You just don't want to admit it. I know how it feels. I spent years - well, decades or centuries, rather - pretending that I didn't care. But that didn't get me anywhere. Everyone just looked right past my act and antagonized me about the fact that I couldn't face it that I care."

"Good for you," I grunted, rolling over onto my stomach. "That's you. Not me."

I heaved myself up and ran absentmindedly out of the door and down the stairs. My head was pounding with some kind of hangover from the large amount of alcohol I'd consumed in the previous twenty-four hours. Damon had convinced me that an alcohol binge was the most suitable way to drown my sorrows, and my few amount of brain cells had accepted his poor advice. Big a fool me.