Pain vibrated all through my body, all the way out to the tips of my fingers and toes. My head throbbed. But I was laid out on something soft, a bed. I closed my fist around the blanket that covered, and felt how my hand shook. When I opened my eyes, it came to a surprise that I wasn't in my bedroom at the boarding house. The bedroom I was in was completely different, hazy and covered with more silk than I have ever seen. I sat up and groaned, feeling the pain suddenly cease. As I glanced around, my confusion grew even more.

   The bedroom was large and spacious, with a large open balcony and the sea in the distance. The bed was covered with silk, from the ceiling to the covers. Fur rugs on the floor, a vanity with a mirror to the corner with a water basin and jug on top. I had never seen something so bright and hazy and beautiful.

   I pushed myself from the bed, groaning as soon as my feet touched the cold floor. For a moment, I was wobbly, as if I hadn't walked for a long time. A few moments later, I was perfect. I first went to the balcony, wanting to get fresh air and take a look at the sea. The moment I stepped to the sunlight, it was as if warmth erupted all over me. It wasn't the bad kind of warmth, the one that felt like fire, but the one that happened when you were cold and felt that bit of sunlight touch your skin and it gave you a bit of relief.

   "Where the hell am I?" I uttered to myself, laying my hands on the stone railing. Everything reminded me of Greece, from the blue waters and the white sand, to the warmth that has erupted all over me. It all reminded me of the vacation Elijah and I took in 1995, the one with the earthquake and the one in which Klaus appeared out of nowhere like some hero.

   "Welcome," a voice greeted. "I guess I should have been here for when you woke up."

   "Yeah, well..." I trailed off as I saw who was standing before me. 

   It was me. I was standing in front of me. Instead of the jeans and shirt, I was wearing a long white dress in Roman or Greek style. My hair was held back, a few strands framing my face, a bright golden blonde colour. My eyes, or her eyes, were a bright green, like leaves during the spring. There were a few wrinkles around her eyes, a little beauty mark underneath her left eye. She, or I, looked tired.

   "I'm Helen," she said with a smile. "I guess you've heard of me."

   "Heard of you?" I scoffed. "I am you."

   She clicked her tongue and made a face. "No, sweetheart, you aren't me. You just have my face, which is a blessing." 

   "To be honest, I didn't imagine you being so pretentious," I said, crossing my arms.

   "You get used to it after two-thousand years trapped here," she said with a sigh, looking around. "And, thanks to you, I'm free."

   "Free?" I questioned, staring at her in disbelief. "From what? Who? Huh?"

   "I was trapped here," she said, glancing back at me with a bored expression. "A gift from that bitch Qetisyah."

   "So, even back then she was psychotic," I mumbled, leaning my waist against the rail. 

   Helen stood in front of me, her head held high, her back straightened, and her bright eyes staring at the sea with what seemed that she was deep in thought. It was obvious that she was deep in thought, but there was a sense of calmness inside of her as she stared away from me. She let out a chuckle and turned to me, giving me a small smile. 

   "I guess you're wondering what the hell is this place," she said. "Well, this is my very own prison, courtesy of Qetsiyah."

   I pushed myself away from the railing and took a good luck around, eyes furrowed and brain reeling with every thought running through her. Tessa was a powerful witch, I knew that, but I was still wondering how powerful she exactly was. Being in front of Helen, well, that answered my curiosity. If she created another world, then that must mean power.

   "Okay, wait." I raised my hands at her, stopping her from speaking. "Please, explain everything because I'm confused. How are you here? Why was your heart in a box? Why am I here? Why do I look like you?"

   Helen let out a soft chuckle and nodded. "Where do I start?"

   "The beginning," I answered her rhetorical question. "Start at the beginning of everything."

   "I was in love with Silas," she began with a smile. "I wanted to marry him, but my family wanted me to marry someone with power. So, my mother arranged a marriage by proxy to Heron; I was married to another man while I was with the man I loved. There was no love in that marriage, nothing but my hatred for him and his obsession with power." Her fist tightly bunched up the skirt of her dress, eyes staring ahead in anger. "I still continued to meet Silas; we had our little space in the woods, where we would meet every night and leave before the sun rose. Within all those meetings I ended up pregnant, our first child out of the many we wanted to have. I named him after my father, who was a kind and gentle man. Heron had forced himself on me several times, so I wasn't worried that he would think the child was another man's.

   "My love for Silas continued through the years," Helen continued with a love-sick grin. "We continued to meet, and I ended up pregnant several times but... Two stillbirths and one miscarriage later, we decided that Kaïn would be our only child."

   "It all sounds so happy," I muttered, laying my hands underneath my chin. "Except the stillbirths and the miscarriage, those are horrible!"

   She chuckled and nodded. "It was happy," she said as her eyes glazed over. "I was happy, the happiest I have ever been when I was with Silas. Now, Qetsiyah was a friend of mine, a good friend but not the best. She didn't know about Silas and I until she found us kissing in one of the gardens; I think that was the day that my friend began to hate me." She sighed, her back slouching over a bit as she looked down. "She was a powerful witch, so powerful that she made a mirage for my son to follow up a cliff. She was waiting for him there, and the hate for me made her push him."

   "She said he was playing with a ball," I said, recalling the story Tessa had shared.

   "That was the mirage," Helen nodded. "As a boy of six, he loved to play games, especially with a ball that Silas got him when he turned four." Just at the mention of Silas, her smile had widened into one of happiness. It soon disappeared, though. "She told you that I killed myself, didn't she? Well, the true story is that she killed me. She gave me a story about how Silas was waiting for me up in the cliff, that we were to run away that night and live our lives together somewhere else. So, I went up there, I waited, and she greeted me. After confessing to her crimes, she pushed me."

   "Okay, wait, stop." I shook my hands and my head, growing even more confused. "If she killed you, then why the hell would she bring you back?"

   Helen gave me a small smile as she turned to look back at the ocean. "For comfort," she said, lowly. "How could she deny the man she loved? Silas begged her to bring me back, and she couldn't deny him. So, she brought me back, but not entirely."

   "Not entirely?" I questioned, growing a little less confused. "Wait, uh, Tessa said that you were cold when you came back from the dead, distant. She said you were sad and cold, as if separated by a veil. She said Silas took pity, so he killed you."

   "Is that what she said?" she chuckled, crossing her arms. "Qetsiyah has a funny way of showing her hate. It wasn't Silas who killed me, because he couldn't. He asked her to kill me, and she did, with a smile on her face and hatred in her eyes. And afterwards, she comforted Silas." She let out a scoff and shook her head. "Guess in which way she comforted him?"

   "Hmm," I hummed, nodding. "So, why am I here? If you died, why the hell are there doppelgängers? I know Elena is one because Amara was an immortal, hence nature was trying to look for balance. But, you died."

   "Not entirely," Helen said, giving me a tight smile. "You found my heart, right? It was fresh, still beating. Qetsiyah kept it alive for two-thousand years, kept me trapped in this prison. Why? I guess she wanted me to suffer just like she did. You know, love is a funny thing."

   I bit my bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah, it is," I said, my mind turning to the thought of Stefan. Love was a funny thing, and my heart ached at the thought of him. Realising that I was in the same prison world as Helen, I stood straighter and stared at her in shock. "Oh my god, did I die?" I asked. "Did I die when I stabbed your heart?"

   She laughed. "No, you're not dead. You're just asleep. You felt the death of every doppelgänger at once, so you passed out from the pain. I brought you here because I needed to talk to you, just for a little while."

   "How long have I been out?" I asked, rubbing my temples with two fingers.

   "A few days," she answered nonchalantly, with a wave of her hand. She let out a sigh and turned to me, giving me a small smile. "Clara, I want to thank you. After you stabbed the heart, you freed me of this prison. I can finally find peace."

   "It's weird," I said, swallowing. "I never imagined having a conversation with a person who has the same face as me. Now I know how Elena feels every time she speaks to Katherine." I crossed my arms and looked over at the sea, seeing the beautiful blue collide with a light beige, and then green. "Let me ask you a question, just one that's been bothering me for a while. How did it feel watching Silas and Amara?" I turned to her.

   The thought had been bothering me in the back of my mind. It wasn't Amara and Silas, but mostly Elena and Stefan. In the back of my head, the thought of them together had been bothering me ever since I figured out my feelings for Stefan. Tessa had said that they were meant for each other, soulmates. At the moment, I didn't let it bother me, but I continued to think about it and it had destroyed me.

   Helen let out a breath and leaned her arms on the railing. "It was heartbreaking," she said, "but a part of me was glad that Silas had found someone else. He didn't have to dwell in heartbreak for so long." She straightened herself and looked at me. "You're worried about Stefan and Elena, aren't you?"

   I nodded. "You can say."

   "Don't be," she said as a small smile began to form around her lips. "I have seen the way he looks at you, and it's a look that is filled with love, compassion, and admiration. He looks at you with gentleness, as if he can't believe you're actually n front of him. I've seen that look before, and that's a look filled with love." She stared at me a couple of seconds, and she took one step forward as the smile on her lips fell. Her eyes scanned my face, then they fell to my stomach. "Did you know when Katherine killed you?"

   I furrowed my brows in confusion. "Knew what? That I was gonna die? Uh, yeah, obviously."

   "No, no." She shook her head and laid her hand on my stomach. "Clara, did you know you were pregnant when you died?"

   I took a step back from her as words sank into me. My hand automatically reached for my stomach as shook ran through every fibre of my being. "What are you saying?" I asked, the tears swelling at the corner of my eyes. "W-what?"

   "You were pregnant," she repeated, staring at my stomach. "You had all the signs of pregnancy, but you never stopped to wonder if you were?"

   "No," I said as I shook my head. My fist clutched my shirt over my stomach, her words still repeating themselves inside of my head. "People were always sick back then, so why would I think that I was pregnant?"

   Helen let out a chuckle and took a step forward, her hand falling on top of mine on my stomach once again. "You were scared," she said, softly. "The man you loved had feelings for another, your father was cheating on your mother with someone younger, and your siblings were quarrelling all the time—you were scared."

   I swallowed hard. Back then, in 1864, I had always imagined getting married to Damon and having a family, but that was all after marriage. Back then, children out of wedlock were considered bastards, even those whose parents married after the child was born. Back then, Death was too close to everyone, especially a pregnant woman. I had heard so many stories of my mother almost dying during all of her pregnancies, and they were all filled with pain.

   "I wasn't," I said, shaking my head. "I wasn't pregnant. I would know if I was."

   "You were," she said, softly and gently. "Two months. You would have been a wonderful mother, Clara." She gave me a soft smile and took a step back, taking a deep breath. "Well, I should bid you farewell. Thank you for freeing me, for allowing me to find peace. It's time for you to return to your world, and for me to leave." 

   Everything began to get hazy, like the first time you open your eyes after a long sleep. Helen stood in front of me with a smile that was filled with nothing but calmness, comfort. She said something, her mouth moving but no noise coming out. I tried to figure out what she was saying, but everything turned dark. It was all black, like the middle of the woods at night, but there was no sound. I heard nothing, saw nothing, and for a moment I thought that was how death felt like.

   I opened my eyes to come face to face with the ceiling I had come to know so well. The last thing I remembered was pushing a knife into Helen's heart, and then pain. I tried to sit up, but pain erupted from all over my chest.

   "Whoa, there!" someone said, the side of the bed plunging down a bit. "Don't want to move a lot, okay?"

   I turned my head to the speaker, the image hazy for a moment. Slowly, the figure formed to one I knew so well. "Damon?" I questioned, blinking several times. 

   "Who else would it be?" he asked, a small smirk decorating his lips. "Good afternoon, Sleepy Head. You've been asleep for days."

   "Where's Stefan?" I asked, turning my head to the other side. I expected to see him sitting on the other side, but it was empty. The only other person in the room was Damon.

   "Busy," he simply responded. "On the other hand, I'm not. I'm stuck babysitting you and Katherine."

   "Katherine?" I questioned, raising a brow. "What happened to her?"

   "She's dying," he said with a shrug of his shoulder. "Hooray!"

   As soon as he said that, my hand slowly reached for my stomach. My vision unfocused, his face becoming blurry. The words Helen had told me rang in my mind once again, almost like a distant memory. I had been pregnant, and I had lost that child thanks to the jealousy of Katherine Pierce. With hatred, I pushed through the pain and stood up.

   "Where are you going?" Damon asked.

   "I'm going to see Katherine," I said as I stumbled to the door. The pain moved all over my body with each step I took. I heard her breathing coming from Stefan's room, and found her on his bed with eyes closed and her heart beat slow. Her hair was greying, her skin was pale, and her breathing was strained. When she opened her eyes, she had to blink several times to actually look at me.

   "Clara," she breathed, letting out a pained chuckle afterwards. "Look who's still alive."

   "I'm glad you're dying," I hissed, leaning against a chair and still clutching my stomach. "You've brought so much pain to everyone, especially me."

   She rolled her eyes. "I killed you, I know. That was almost two hundred years ago, get over it."

   "Did you know I was pregnant?" I asked as I tears up. For a moment, I glanced away so I could stop myself from crying. I sniffed and wiped away those tears that had escaped. "I was willing to forgive you after all this time, Katherine. You killed me, but I was better off after that. Then I learned that I was pregnant, and now my hate for you has returned. Tell me, did you know?"

   For the first time since I have known her, Katherine Pierce looked at me with regret. Her brown eyes were soft, as if she were trying to silently apologise to me. She opened and closed her mouth several times, her breathing accelerating just like her heart. Finally, she let out a sigh and nodded her head as she looked away from me. 

   "I could hear its heartbeat," she softly said. "I had my suspicions that you were pregnant, but I wasn't sure."

   "Well, now you are," I said with anger laced in my tone. "I was pregnant."

   Katherine let out a sigh and looked back at me. "It's a good thing you didn't know," she said. "It would have been painful"

   "I could have had a family," I cried, shaking my head down at her. "I could have gotten the life I always wanted."

   "It would have been a boring life," she interrupted, glaring at me. "Being a housewife doesn't suit you. Children? I can't see you with them. A husband and a house with a wooden fence? Please, you would hate that life."

   I let out a scoff and shook my head. "Like you know so much, right? You don't know me, Katherine."

   "Remember back then?" she asked before taking another deep breath. "In 1864 we were friends, Clara. You came to be to tell me the smallest thing, offered me dresses and pearls, styled my hair while conversing about the Salvatore brothers. I know you, and I know you would have hated that life. Trust me, you should be thankful." She let out another breath and looked away.

   "Well, I'm not," I spat, glaring down at her. There was a part of me that felt sorry for her. She was dying after five hundred years of surviving. Another part of me hated her, and wished for her to die faster. Immediately, I felt bad as the thoughts of her death came through my  mind. I shook my head and turned, facing an angry-looking Damon by the doorway.

   "You were pregnant?" he asked, his tone filled with disbelief. When I didn't answer, he came closer to me, just inches away from me and stared into my eyes with an unreadable expression. "Clara, you were pregnant."

   "Apparently," I said, shrugging my shoulders and biting the corner of my lip. I swallowed hard and looked away, afraid of the look in his eyes. It could have been disappointment, maybe hatred.

   "Why didn't you tell me?"

   "Because I didn't know," I responded, feeling the same pinch of pain in my chest and stomach. I felt empty, like I was slowly breaking apart. 

   "And you knew?" he asked Katherine, his voice filled with pain. "You knew this, Katherine?"

   "No," she said, her breathing harsh. "I already told you that I didn't..."

   Damon sped over to her and pushed a needle to her arm. Katherine gasped from the sudden pinch, but slowly began to close her eyes and was asleep in a couple of seconds. He stood over her, eyes hard with anger. When he turned his head towards me, the anger turned to pain. He took several steps towards me and stopped when he was inches away. It he moved one more step, our chests would be touching. Slowly, his hand reached for my cheek, and that was when I broke down.

   I leaned my head against his chest and let out every single cry that I had been holding on inside of me. I cried even though all of my body tingled with pain, even though every fibre of my being told me that I shouldn't be so emotional over something that had happened almost two hundred years ago. But, there I was, crying against the chest of Damon Salvatore, my ex and the person I considered my closest friend, over a child that could have happened. I cried over a life that could have happened, over a possibility. 

   Damon held on to me, his arms tightly holding me against him as I cried. Every part of my being felt pain, and I didn't if it was because of the deaths I had felt all at once or because of the shocking news Helen had told me. I figured out that it was because of what Helen told me, because I had felt pain before and it wasn't as bad. 

   "I'm sorry," I cried to Damon. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I cried the same thing over and over again, shaking my head. 

   He ran his hand down my hair, then laid a gentle kiss on top of my head. "It's not your fault," he said, quietly. "It's not your fault, Clara."

   We ended back in my room. I laid on the bed while Damon sat besides me, his hand holding mine and his thumb running up and down. He was only there to calm me down, making sure that I wouldn't go crazy or pass out once again. I stared at the wall, unsure on what to say or how to feel. So many emotions had ran through me that it left me exhausted, but I didn't want to close my eyes. To stop myself from passing out once again, I began to tell Damon about Helen. I told him about Silas and her, about Tessa and her, about her death, about her heart being the one thing that controlled the doppelgänger lineage. 

   "I think the universe is trying to tell me something," I mumbled, glancing over at him.

   He raised a brow. "And that is?"

   "That I will never be truly happy," I quietly said. "I don't deserve an ounce of happiness." The thought filled me with grief, grief for the dreams I had, for the love I'd felt, for the hopeful girl I would never be again.