We'll Always Have Summer | Stefan Salvatore

Chapter Fourteen

1993 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

   A snake. It was what Stefan Salvatore reminded her of. The summer in his eyes had been covered by deadly red, reminding her of the rabbit's grey fur darkening with its own blood coming from the snake's fang. There were black veins beneath his eyes, the same colour of the snake. What surprised her the most was the way his teeth were sharp, like a snakes. The boy that reminded her of summer and green and smiles was replaced with someone else.

   "What are you?" she repeated. "Stefan, what the hell are you?"

   His eyes were green again, there were no veins, and the darkness in front of her was replaced with the boy once again. He took a step back and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking.

   "Don't apologise and walk away from me!" she yelled. Her breathing came in ragged, just like an anxiety attack, just like after she was done swimming. He stopped moving, shoulders rigid and hands tensed. She wanted to take a step forward, lay a hand on his arm, but she couldn't make herself move. Her hands shook besides her, her heart pounded at her ear, and she knew that he could hear her very heart. "Please, help me understand what you are because right now..." She took a deep breath to calm herself, hoping that her voice wouldn't break. "Stefan, I'm terrified of you."

   Stefan's face was filled with guilt. "Florence, I'm sorry." His voice broke as he spoke. "I can't..." He took a deep breath and looked away from her, the pointed towards one direction. "Charles' house is that way. Keep going straight."

   "Stefan, wait!" She had reached to him, but he wasn't not in front of her. Somehow, he had disappeared. Her eyes darted to every direction, the ringing in her ears getting louder. She sniffed and pushed the thoughts of him away, then headed towards the direction he pointed at. With each step she took, her leg stung. She could feel the dirt going into her skin, moving through her blood just as the thoughts of Stefan did. There were two reasons why she was in pain: because of the cut and because of a boy. 

   She didn't know how long she walked, but she came to Charles' house with red and blue lights flickering all around. There were cops everywhere, voices coming from their radios or them speaking to a few of the kids that were sober enough to talk. Florence stopped walking and stood by the pool, eyes darting around in confusion and breath hitched at her throat. Part of her thought that the cops were around to bust the party. Another part of her didn't want to think that it was because of the pink pool water.

   "Florence!" someone yelled. "There you are! We've been looking all over for—what the hell happened to you?" Cher was standing in front of her, hands on her shoulder and eyes staring down at her in confusion. Eyes resembling road-maps, the blue in them a small ocean. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

   "I fell," she responded. She pushed Cher's hands away and began to look around. "Have you seen Stefan?"

   "Uh, no," Cher said, following closely behind. "I thought he was with you."

   "He disappeared."

   "That's not good."

   Florence stopped and turned around. "What do you mean?"

   Cher looked around with her eyes wide. "Do you see the cops all around here?" she asked. There was no tone of amusement, or joking, or anything that said a laugh would come. "Florence, they're not here because they're busting the party. They're here because..." She bit her lips tightly and glanced away for a second. "Florence, they're here because someone found Rachelle Watson in the pool."

   If there were cops, the knew why. But, either way, she asked, "Swimming?" Her voice broke, her nose stung, and she had to dig her nails into her thigh so she wouldn't do anything else.