Your Saviour | Stefan Salvatore

15: Untold Truth

Present Day

Inside the Gilbert residence, Alaric and Meredith searched through folders upon brightly coloured folders. There was innocent murders happening in Mystic Falls, with bite marks and weapons that belonged to them. But they hadn't murdered them, Alaric had been held captive in a jail cell for suspected murder whilst they had attempted to find out what happened. But now he was free, there was more minds to find who was committing the murders.

"Like the Sheriff said, the victims were killed with your weapons." Meredith muttered, peering down at the crime scene evidence with a sigh. There was photo's off Bill Forbes' murder and Brian Walters, their blood spewing over their clothes and skin... they both had very tragic death's.

"Yeah, but I was attacked." He told her, not able to shake the feeling that it had involved him more than he hoped. Alaric could've been going insane - perhaps mental.

"With your own knife," Meredith stuttered, "A wound that could have been self-inflicted."

"It's impossible! I would know if I were killing people." Alaric admitted to her, closing the folders with a thump and sighing. He hated the feeling that he was the hunter and the prey.

"Would you? Have you had any blackouts, instances of lost time?" The female nurse asked him, raising an eyebrow as she expected an answer, but all he muttered was, "You're insane."

"No, but I think you might be. You wear a ring that lets you cheat death, Ric," Meredith sat down as he copied her actions, "How many times can you die before it changes you?" Alaric had to think about that, the world of supernatural had invented ways he could live a normal, safe life without an effect of the creatures that roamed around the city.

"I think you're sick and I want to help you. This has happened before, almost 100 years ago." She told him as he fiddled with his ring. He didn't want to know the blood was on his hands, he didn't want anything on his hands at all. Not even that stupid, damn ring. That's when they both noticed the doppelgänger standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame contently.

"Elena." Alaric muttered, knowing that his daughter-figure had heard everything.

"Ric," Elena began with a smile of sympathy, "I think she's right." With that, she strolled over to the two people sitting on the couch, showing them an entry from a Gilbert diary back in 1912.

❊❊❊

Eleanor rubbed her eyes as she woke up. She didn't know what had happened, Mara had appeared suddenly and then she blacked out. There was a familiar stench around her, one she hadn't smelt in this much detail in years. Blood.

"What the bloody hell?" She asked herself as she peered around, bodies tied to multiple poles in the room. It was a humungous room, mostly made of steel walls and a pale wooden floor. But around her she could smell blood, in her hair, on her clothes, inside the bodies around her...

Suddenly she began to untie the victims, helping them as they slumped to the floor and sitting them down before feeding them her blood. As soon as she did, they spewed it up all over her clothes and the wood below them.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Mara came strolling into the room with a turtle-neck maroon dress on, "I'm making them reject it, idiot." Eleanor's eyes widened as she stared down at the victim, who was slurring and taking their last breath. She voluntarily closed the man's eyes, letting him finally rest.

"You're sick." She told the devil, wiping her hands on her jumper and finally sizing the girl in front of her.

"Well technically, so are you," The supposedly dead girl said with a smile, "I made you do this, now there's more blood on your hands than just mine." With a glare at the vampire standing opposite her, she pulled out a knife and suddenly slit the man's throat. He struggled in the ropes for a few seconds before finally settling down. The lights flickered slightly.