Dearest Devil

Elena's POV I had agreed to sleep with my boyfriend Damon for the first time tonight. Finally deciding that I was ready to cross vanilla s*x off my bucket list before my twentieth birthday next week. When I flung the door to his room open, I saw him just as I had imagined. Perfectly sexy and naked. But with another woman on top of him. My elder sister, Sophie. “W-what the…” I froze in the doorway, my voice dying in my throat. Sophie was straddling Damon, while dipping her hair to nip at his neck. "Oh yes, just like that," Sophie moaned. My stomach flipped. I felt like I was going to throw up. Damon grunted and lifted her up, rolling over on top of her. Then Sophie noticed me, and smiled. Actually smiled. “Oh,” she breathed softly, not even bothering to stop. “You’re here.” Something twisted violently inside me. Damon stiffened on top of her. “What—” He turned his head immediately. “Elena—” Guilt flushed across his face as his hands left Sophie's boobs instantly. "How could you?" A sob was lodged in my throat but I refused to let it out. I hated that my voice shook as I looked into his eyes—the eyes of my childhood sweetheart, the man I thought I’d spend my life with. I was ready to give myself to him. I’d even worn red lingerie under my black coat for tonight. Damon hesitated, a flash of regret crossing his face. "El..." Sophie's expression hardened as she yanked him closer, smirking at me from the bed. “Get off me,” Damon muttered, pushing at her. She slid off him lazily, her eyes never leaving mine. “Damon…” My voice came out small. “What is this?” He scrambled up, grabbing for something to cover himself. “Elena, I can explain.” Explain? A dry, broken laugh escaped me. Of all the people in the world… “Of all the girls, Damon?” My voice cracked. Damon knew everything. He knew what it was like in my house—how Sophie treated me, how I was always the one to blame, no matter what happened. The scar on my neck throbbed at the memory. Dad’s belt. Sophie had come home drunk that night, but somehow it still became my fault. “You should have known she left the house,” Mom’s voice echoed in my head. It was always my fault. "El," Damon started to rise away from Sophie, reaching one hand to me. Sophie reached up and intertwined her fingers with his, stopping the gesture. Her eyes gleamed at me from under her dark lashes. "Babe," she arched her naked body against him. Tears blurred my vision as I ran to my car, choking back the sobs threatening to break free. I didn’t remember starting the engine. All I knew was that I needed to get away. Fast. I gripped the steering wheel harder as I drove, my chest tightening like I couldn’t get enough air. A sudden jerk pulled me out of my thoughts. My Honda car sputtered. Then slowed. “No… no, f*****g no—” It stopped completely. Right in the middle of an empty road. I let out a shaky laugh, stepping out of the car. “Of course.” And just like that, the rain started. Heavy. Cold. Unforgiving. Within seconds, I was drenched. I wrapped my arms around myself, leaning against the car as everything I had been holding in finally broke. A black Rolls-Royce sped past, splashing dirty water onto me. I must have done something really terrible to the universe. A few seconds later, I heard it slow down. Reverse. My body tensed. The car pulled up beside me. A man stepped out. “Well… this night just keeps getting better,” I muttered under my breath. He looked at me—really looked at me. Not just the rain, or the broken car. Me. “Are you okay?” he asked. That was all it took. A loud sob escaped before I could stop it. I shook my head, pressing my lips together as tears mixed with the rain. “My car…” I managed, my voice breaking. “It just stopped.” He glanced at it briefly, then back at me. “Do you have someone you can call?” I hesitated. There was no one. There was no way my mom or dad would consider entering this rain to come get me. I wasn't Sophie. I shook my head. He paused, then said carefully, “I can give you a ride. At least get you out of the rain.” Every warning in my head went off at once. Accepting a ride from a random stranger in the middle of the night was such a bad idea. But I was cold, exhausted, heartbroken, and completely alone. “…Okay,” I whispered. The drive was quiet. He didn’t seem like the type to force conversation. Still, I could feel his eyes on me occasionally through the rearview mirror. I sat stiffly, my wet clothes clinging to my skin, making me shiver. I glanced up once, and our eyes met. Grey. Damon’s were grey too. My chest tightened. I quickly looked away and shut my eyes, my body starting to shiver harder from the cold. A few minutes later, the car slowed. “Hey,” he nudged me gently. “We’re here.” My eyes snapped open. I looked around quickly, confused. “Where? This isn’t my house.” “You didn’t give me an address,” he replied calmly. “I asked… a few times.” Oh. His voice sounded distant. I must have dozed off. I sniffed and stepped out of the car. The rain had stopped, but the cold clung to my skin. “I’ll just… find my way home,” I said, my voice shaking. “Hold on.” He stepped out too. “It’s late. Your car's broken, you’re soaked, and you’re clearly not okay.” He paused, studying me. “Just come in for a bit. Warm up first.” I hesitated, looking around the large mansion. Finally, I nodded. We went inside. “Here,” he said, handing me a dry sweatshirt. “You should change before you get sick.” “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely there. I stood there for a second, unsure what to do, glancing around. “It’s okay,” he added. “You can change here. I’ll go make some tea.” Then he left the room, closing the door behind him. The moment he did, everything hit me again. I dropped the sweatshirt and sank onto the bed, still in my wet clothes. Tears came again, hot and uncontrollable. Damon and I had been together for years. Years. We had even planned to move in together after my twentieth birthday. A knock came at the door. I didn’t answer. The door opened anyway. He walked in and came closer, placing a hand lightly against my forehead. “You’re burning up,” he said, concern clear in his voice. He helped me sit up slightly. “Drink this.” I nodded, holding the cup with shaky hands. “Why didn’t you change?” he asked. “I…” My voice trembled. “I feel like I’m going to die.” He frowned slightly and grabbed a towel. “Hey—” I started weakly as he reached for me. “I’m just helping,” he said, calm but firm. I didn’t have the strength to argue. He turned slightly away, giving me some space as he handed me the towel. I tried to dry myself, my hands trembling too much to do it properly. After a moment, he stepped in again, more careful this time—less invasive. He helped me out of my wet outer clothes just enough to get me dry and into something warm, without lingering or making it uncomfortable. By the time I was in dry clothes, my body was shaking even worse. He eased me back onto the bed, placing a warm cloth on my forehead. “You’re really burning up,” he muttered. “You should go to a hospital.” My fingers curled into the blanket. “No… I’ll be fine.” The room fell quiet. But the cold didn’t stop. It felt like it was coming from inside me now. Then, after a brief hesitation, I felt the bed dip slightly. I stiffened. “I’m not doing anything,” he said quietly. “You’re freezing.” There was a pause... then warmth. His arm rested lightly around me—not tight, not forceful. Just there. Careful. I hesitated for a second… Then the warmth spread. And slowly, my body stopped shaking. It felt… safe. Too safe. Without thinking, I shifted a little closer, turning slightly toward him. “This feels… better,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. And before I knew it, I drifted off. When I woke up, something felt off. I shifted slightly. There was someone beside me. My eyes flew open. Last night came rushing back all at once, heat flooding my face. I moved carefully, trying not to wake him. Then my hand brushed against something cold. My brows furrowed as I slowly lifted the pillow. My breath caught. A gun. My stomach dropped. And right beside me… was a man I knew nothing about.