Silas' Daughter

Chapter Fifteen

Seventeen broken ornaments, three smashed masterpieces and numerous priceless antiques scattered themselves throughout the sitting room of the Salvatore's boarding house, shattered to little fragments and making the place look like a trash heap. Music blared from an unknown source and metaphorically shook the house, I blame the music on everything, it was one hundred percent the music that had destroyed everything, or the rhino that came crashing in earlier, could have been that.

"Someone should really clean up, it looks like a nuclear bomb hit." I slurred to myself, jumping from the couch and landing smoothly on my feet, the candles were overly lit in the corners from the power leakage escaping my body, it wasn't really my priority right now though. So it turns out, long after an hour, the Salvatores nor anybody else had made it home, leaving me to my own devices with my lovely best friend.

Mr. Bourbon.

It seemed we had gotten quite acquainted since we reunited this evening and I told myself it wasn't because of the events that had happened today, but the undivided attention he gave me, he was my therapist and the only thing from keeping me from snapping and going on a murder spree of the town, which seemed extremely appealing at this given moment. Sure, I was far more than capable of handling my bloodlust, but that didn't mean I couldn't have fun with it. The music suddenly changed to a guitar solo and I laughed hysterically diving to the floor and breaking out into freak air guitar. I'd learned that from a boy in the eighties, the latest ones.

That's when finally the Salvatores returned to the Boarding House, when I was at peak embarrassment, of course, right now I imagine myself nailing every chord to 'Hit me with your best shot.' when in reality I was slurring the words to One Direction's latest hit, which was obviously why my body was embarrassed. Wrong lyrics to a great song. Ouch.

Damon marched in, signature smirk in place, followed by Stefan, his expression a little grimmer than his brothers. Both their heads turned a little towards the stone Ace planted beside the entrance of the doorway, their eyes widening and sudden realisation to my behaviour was obvious. Damon tried to keep his smirk in place, but it slipped ever so slightly. I simply replied by downing another shot and pelting the glass towards the wall so it smashed into thousands of tiny pieces.

"Have you ever been so angry with your brother that you want to wring his neck, but it's physically not possible because someone beat you to it?" I questioned aloud, not intentionally aiming it anyone imparticular and I took a breath, jumping onto the sofa and the hopping over to pour another drink, from a not smashed glass.

Elaborately I grabbed a glass, and the decanter of drink and messily began pouring it in, raising the decanter childishly at different heights, the splashing liquid soaking the wood table and the edges of the sofa. A fake smile plastered on my face the entire time and as soon as I put the decanter down I necked the contents of the glass, my smile falling and I slammed my fists on the table, the legs almost giving and I threw the glass violently in another direction, but I didn't hear the satisfactory smash and I glanced up to see Damon standing across the room, smirking and toying with my glass.

"And I'm not sure that if I cracked and smashed his statue that he'd feel it and I want him to feel how pissed I am for his stupidity." Admittedly I was breaking down a little each moment, we never should have underestimated Silas, sure there was two of us, but he always had a little advantage over us; He no longer had anything to lose, and I loathed him for that. I clenched my fists and dug them into the wood, ruining the priceless antique that they owned.

"You're throwing a Damon tantrum." Stefan began, a little pitying of my situation and I shot him a look, the phrase not familiar to me, but I shrugged it off, assuming it was intended to be some sort of similar way to Damon trying to soothe his problems. He must be doing it right. "That's never a good sign." he finished, his eyes flickering over to his brothers for a brief moment and I couldn't help by roll my eyes at his killjoy attitude. I could fix that, I could tear Damon's head from his neck and show to Stefan that my grieving was the most obvious and less painful way to express my emotions.