It felt like dèjá vu. The warmth of the earth beneath her fingertips, digging beneath her finger nails, felt all too familiar. A bright light began to weed between the lengthy grass. The bright light shone above her like a lightning bug, luring her further from her hole. The dirt caking her eyes made them water and sting. The feeling, though painful, was welcomed with a soft sigh. There was mud staining her fair skin, her hair messy and full of leaves. Her hair became fiery beneath the harsh sunlight, looking brighter than ever against her pale skin. Looking at her, you could see the faint blue of her veins decorate her fragile skin. She pulled herself from her grave, the stiff grass sticking into her palms and knees as she crawled further from the place she had resided in.
The earth surrounding her looked so familiar, yet so different at the same time. She held her hand in front of her face shakily, flexing her fingers, her eyes staring forward in awe. It took a while for her eyes to focus on her slender, pointed fingers. How was she alive? She went to speak, but her throat was too dry, her voice cracking with each syllable she tried to push out. She grasped at her throat. I'm breathing, she thought. Tears sprung behind her eyes, but couldn't fall. She didn't have enough water in her body to cry. She took in the area around her, gripping at the straw-like grass. I can feel it.I can feel the grass!
She pushed herself off the ground onto wobbly knees. Her knees knocked together as she pushed herself further. It was like she was learning to walk all over again. She took two struggling steps before her knees hit the ground beneath her. She noticed the absence of fabric on her knees. That was when she noticed she was wearing a dress. What... Suddenly, images of that night began to flash in her mind. She remembered the feeling of the blade slide against her skin; the warmth of her spilling blood. A shudder escalated up her spine. Oh, Damon... With more determination, she began to crawl toward the tree line.
It didn't take long for her to make it, grabbing the nearest tree for support. She tugged herself onto her feet, brushing off the dirt and grass from her skin and clothing. Her heart was thumping wildly against her chest, hard and fast. She was surprised it hadn't jumped out of her chest yet. "He–... Help," she whimpered, walking slowly toward another tree. She had no idea where she was, let alone what she was. How could she die and just come back? She coughed, falling to her knees. "Help," she gasped, fighting through the brush on her hands and knees. She was wearing the blue dress Damon adored, which was stained slightly in dirt and dried blood. There was thin scratches lining her arms and legs that were littered with blood, a healed scar across her throat.
