Maybe I'd always been broken and dark inside. Maybe if I had been born good, none of this would have happened.

   The nightmares were a prominent part of my existence after they brought back my humanity. They became a part of me, as if they became my heart or a limb. The smallest thing would enact a chain reaction of memories. It was me sinking my teeth into necks or arms, drinking the sweet liquid that was the bane of my existence. It was terrible knowing that their lives had been in my hand, both figuratively and physically. They made me unstable.

   Each nightmare was the same: a dark figure, blood, and the judgemental voice disguised as Caroline. The dark figure was me, covered in blood and enjoying the havoc I had caused. I threatened myself in the nightmare, held my own neck and tried to kill the other me. I tortured myself by making me look at each person I had killed, hear their finals scream or their final breath. It was when I lunged at myself that I woke up, trembling and trying to focus on reality. 

   I was closer to my nightmares more than reality.

   There were three knocks on my doorway, then a small huff as they entered. "Have you been sitting like that since this morning?" Damon asked, stopping by the piano. "You haven't moved and you're leaving in an hour. Have you even packed?" He laid two empty glasses on top of the piano, then filled them with bourbon.

   I licked my lips and shrugged my shoulders. "I'm tired, Damon," I muttered, wringing the shirt I had in my hands. "What is it?" I had been wringing the shirt for some time, the tightness on the palm of my hand making me feel only a tad comfortable. It allowed me to feel reality.

   "I brought you something to drink," he said, moving towards me with one of his arms extended. "You need it."

   I stared at the drink. Alcohol became a bad memory after they returned my humanity. It was a main perpetrator in the acts of me feeding and killing, included between the moments just so I could down the metallic taste of blood. I shook my head. "No, thanks. I'm trying to stay away from alcohol for a while."

   "More for me." He poured what was in one glass to the other, then took a large gulp of it. "So, where's Stefan taking you?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

   "I don't know," I responded, wringing the shirt to the other side. "I just know that he's taking me away from Mystic Falls and that's all I want."

   His eyes widened. "You want to leave Mystic Falls?" His voice had a bit of surprise, yet at the same time full of knowing. It was as if he wanted me to say the reason why out loud.

   I looked down at the shirt and pushed back the emotions that tried to claw their way up my throat. "I-I just..." I inhaled deeply and looked up at him, shaking my head. "It hurts. Everything hurts. I don't want it to hurt anymore."

   He leaned forward a bit, arms resting on his thigh as he watched me carefully. 

   "I don't..." I trailed off as I tried to find the right words to say, but none that I thought about were right. Each word was wrong, a mouthful for me. "Everything is overwhelming, Damon. It's been three days since you brought back my humanity and everything is overwhelming me. I can smell the blood when you, Stefan, or Elena drink it, and all I can remember is me sinking my teeth into someones jugular and killing them. Then the alcohol just reminds me of drinking it between the blood. I've killed before, a lot of people, but it always been because I couldn't control it. This time it left me distraught, because it was without humanity, Damon. I didn't care about anything. How many people did I kill?"

   "I don't know," he softly said, shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't get an exact count."

   I shook my head. "Don't lie to me. While you tried to get my humanity back, you told me I killed twenty-eight. Twenty-eight people in less than a week, now add all the others I've killed before them. You were right: I'm a mess with my humanity and worse without it."

   Damon stood and moved over to me, laying a hand on my neck to make me look straight at him. "You're a mess," he nodded, "but a damn fine one." He winked and gently squeezed my neck, not in angry way but in a gentle and caressing way. "Clara, you're gonna be okay, just like you always have been after something terrible. After Katherine killed you, you were okay. After you met the Mikaelson's, you were okay. You left for two months and spent them with Klaus, and you were okay."

   "I killed a lot of people during those times," I reminded him.

   "I know," he nodded, "but you were okay after those times. So, I think you're going to be okay in a while. Just give it some time."

   The distance between Damon and I was short. His chest was too close to mine, to the point where I could hear his steady heartbeat. If I looked up, our faces would be inches apart. I wanted to know why was he so close to me, why did he leave his hand on my neck. It was a silent moment, interrupted by my thoughts.

   "Don't," I breathed. "Stop doing this to me, Damon."

   His hand moved a bit higher, towards my cheek. "Stop what?"

   "Stop making me confused," I said. "Stop looking at me like that, and talking to me like that, and touching me like that. You can't keep doing that to me."

   "Clara..."

   I stepped away from him. "No!" I repeated, shaking my head. "Just, please, stop."

   "We need to discuss the elephant in the room," he said. "Clara, there's still something between us."

   "There's nothing between us anymore!" I claimed, half-throwing my hands to the air. "It ended a long time ago, after you decided to cheat on me with Katherine; after you chose Elena over and over again." I looked away and bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. A soft, sarcastic laugh escaped my lips. "If I had a dollar for every time you said things like that and meant them, well, my wallet would be empty."

   "Clara..."

   "What do you want me to say, Damon?" I yelled, the tears letting themselves free. "Do you want me to say that I love you? I can't say that, not because it's true but because I watched you fall out of love with me. It must have been easy—break a heart, find someone new—considering you did it twice." I wiped away the tears and sniffed, trying to control myself. "I may be fractured beyond repair, but I'm not heartless. I won't do to Stefan what you did to me."

   Damon kept his eyes on me, soft and filled with pain. His hold on the glass tightened, until it exploded all around him and on the floor. Glass sank into his arm, creating little gashes that quickly caused him to bleed, little drops of rubies falling on the wooden floor. He shook his hand and looked down at it, tightly clenching his jaw and nodding. "Whatever you say," he softly said, taking careful steps back. "Believe what you want, Clara, but you also broke my heart."

   "How?" I dared, crossing my arms. "Amuse me, Damon, because I had always been loyal to you."

   "You have always thought what would it have been like if you never had been with me," he said. "What would have happened if you chose Stefan first?"

   "I did think that," I admitted, stepping closer to him. "I used to wonder what would it have been like if I began a relationship with him instead of you; what would have happened if I had fallen for the better brother?" I took another step closer to him and shook my head. "I knew that it would have been you, though." I spoke softly, my voice cracking and the wounds inside of me finally opening. I was bleeding red, raw, distraught for letting my emotions get the best of me. "It would have always been you, Damon, but not anymore. Not after everything we've been through."

   I brushed past him and went to the bed, grabbing my bag then walking out my room. It was then where I could breathe, where I finally took a deep breath and pushed back the emotions that clawed their way out. I went to the kitchen, where I found Elena standing there with a stunned look. She held a mug of coffee in her hands, wore her volunteer clothes for Whitmore Medical. When out eyes met, she frowned.

   "I'm sorry," she quickly said as I walked past her. "I'm so sorry."

   I blinked. "You don't need to be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry about." She opened her mouth to say something, but I quickly stopped her by raising a hand. "No, let's not talk about this, okay? There's nothing to say, so leave it at that. Where's Stefan?"

   She stared at me, deducing whether she should continue with what she wanted to say or answer me. After a couple of seconds, she sighed and pointed to the garage entrance with her chin. "He's been out there all morning," she said. "He said he was fixing up his motorcycle until it was time to leave. Where are you going?"

   "I don't know," I responded. "I just know that it's far from here, and that's all I want." I leaned against the counter and pressed my thumb against my lip. "Has Caroline answered your phone calls?"

   "No," she sighed. "I've tried calling her several times a day, and nothing. She hasn't picked up yours?"

   I shook my head. "Not one. She must be listening to them, though; her voicemail isn't full."

   "I don't understand why she disappeared," Elena uttered, crossing her arms. "We told her we would help her."

   I stared at her for a couple of moments. "When your humanity came back, you focused all of those emotions on destroying Katherine," I reminded her. "Caroline doesn't have a deep hate, she lost her mother, and she killed a person while her humanity was off. She wants time to herself, to think about everything. So, when you leave her a message, don't tell her to come back. Tell her to take her time." I tapped my hand against the counter and pulled away, beginning to move towards the garage. I stopped and turned back to Elena. "This is about Caroline. Don't make this about yourself, okay? You have gift for doing that." I didn't wait for a response, and quickly walked out.

   Stefan leaned against his car, his head slightly leaned back while his hands were in his pockets. There was a small smile around his lips, gentle, comforting. "Ready to go?" he asked as he walked over and grabbed my bag.

   I inhaled and nodded. "Yeah," I said, a small smile forming on my lips. "I'm ready to go."

   "Good," he chuckled, opening the passenger's door for me. "I think you're going to like where we're going."

   "Where are we going?" I followed him with my eyes as he circled the car and got in the driver's side. "You just woke up this morning and said you're taking me away, never mentioned where."

   He looked over at me with a small smile. "I promised you a vacation far from Mystic Falls, and that's exactly what I'm giving you. Although I couldn't get you a vacation on another country, I think you might like this one."

   "You're still not telling me where."

   "It's far from here," he simply said as he started the car. "That's all I'm saying for now."

   I watched Stefan as he drove, the wind carefully running through his hair as if they were his fingers. The sun perfectly shined on him, making him look sculpted and attractive. I could see his eyes through his sunglasses, how they held that crinkle of happiness just as the faint smile on his lips. He wore happiness so good, as if it were a t-shirt or a jacket. He looked over at me and smiled, raising his brows. 

   "Do I have something on my face?" he asked, pointing at his face with the hand that had been laying on the open window.

   I shook my head. "No, you don't," I said with a smile. "I was staring."

   A soft laugh escaped his lips. "You admit that you were staring? Wow, Clara!"

   "I love you," I said, softly, my voice carried with the wind. I meant those three simple words. They weren't empty, but full of emotion and truth. Stefan was my present, the good part of me, the man that had cared for me more than I had cared for him. Each relationship suffers through a rough patch, and since we were immortal vampires with consequences like death, rough patches were bound to happen. In the three days since my humanity returned, he hadn't left my side. He promised that he would help me, and it seemed that he decided to keep that promise.

   The smile faded from his lips for a few moments. When it appeared again, it was big. "I love you, too."

   Stefan's idea of a vacation was driving all the way to New Jersey, Cape May to be exact. It was a charming seaside escape, with a small-town vibe, quiet atmosphere, and a stunning natural beauty. When he stopped in front of a beach house, I quickly turned to him. "Are you serious?"

   "You don't like it?"

   "No, I like it!" I quickly said as I got out of the car. "How did you end up getting this in such a short notice, Stefan?"

   He sucked in air between his teeth and gave me a tight-lipped smile. "I may have lied and said that we're on our honeymoon," he said. "I said that we were two young, broke people who were in love and just wanted to get married. They gave me a discount, too."

   A genuine smile fell on my lips. "You've outdone yourself, Mr. Salvatore."

   "I said we'd take a vacation away from Mystic Falls, Clara," he reminded me. "This was the perfect opportunity to leave."

   "What about your mother?" I asked. As soon as those words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. 

   Ever since she was brought back from the prison world, I had met the former Mrs. Salvatore a handful of times. Stefan had brought her to the cellar so she could tell me things about him and Damon when they were children, before we met, to see if something would happen with my emotions. The last time I saw her was in the middle of the night, when the nightmares woke me up and I went downstairs to grab a glass of water. She was sitting in the table, staring at something. The only word exchanged was 'goodnight'.

   "I haven't really talked to her," Stefan admitted, pulling out the suitcases from the trunk. "I talk and she refuses to talk."

   I walked up to him and grabbed my bag, then took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Don't talk," I said, "instead, just stay in the same room with her. She's been in that prison world for years, and she didn't have blood, so she must still feel the pain of it."

   Stefan laid his other hand on my neck and pulled me to him, kissing me. "You're overwhelmed with your humanity and yet you talk to me as if nothing happened," he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. "How the hell do you do that, Clara?"

   "I'm good at pushing my feelings to the back of my mind," I said in a nonchalant tone, shrugging my shoulders. "I'd rather not pay attention to them."

   "Pay attention to them," he softly said, his lips brushing against mine. "Don't think about my feelings, or about anyone else's—just yours. How else are you going to come back form the deep, huh?"

   Instead of saying something sarcastic, I nodded and followed him to the entrance. The keys were underneath the mat in front, shimmering in the blinding sun as if it were some piece of gold. When Stefan opened the door, the scent of flowers overwhelmed me. Every table, big or small, had flowers on them. They were an array of colours and scents, shapes and sizes and colours. The first flowers were on the small table by the entrance, a vase overrun with different colours that mismatched. My first guess was that whomever owned the house could have cared less whether the colours and shapes matches, but she just wanted flowers and flowers on end. They were still beautiful.

   "Look at that," Stefan chuckled as we walked in. He began to walk backwards, spreading an arm in the air to point out our surroundings. "I don't have to get you flowers for the honeymoon. Instead, you can take whichever you want, or all."

   "Or we can throw a few of them away because there are too many," I mumbled, smiling. "I'm not kidding, this smells like a funeral home." As soon as those words left my mouth, the image of Liz's funeral appeared. I cringed and closed my eyes, my hold on my luggage tightening. After a few seconds, I let out a shaky breath. "Sorry."

   Stefan came over to me and grabbed my hand and luggage, giving my hand a small squeeze. "What do you want to do?" he asked, changing the conversation. "Should we go to the beach or should we see the town?"

   "I want to lay in bed," I said, looking towards the hallway that held the bedrooms. "I want to sleep, Stefan."

   "Then we'll sleep," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

   The main bedroom was big and spacious, decorated in white and with more flowers. The scent wasn't as overwhelming as it was in the rest of the house, instead it was combined with laundry detergent coming from the bed. They were comfortable scents, inviting. I didn't change from my clothes, instead I got under the bed and pulled the duvet up to my shoulders. Besides me, the bed sank. An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to their owner. A kiss was laid behind my ear.

   "I'll be here," Stefan softly said. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

   "That doesn't stop the nightmares," I mumbled, halfway turning to look at him. "That doesn't stop me from being terrified of what I'm able to do."

   He nodded and pushed a strand of hair away from my face. "Stop thinking about them, Clara. I know it's hard, and painful, and you feel like the world is crumbling down, but it's not. You're Clara Forbes; you were killed by Katherine, tortured and beaten by a ghost, then killed by that ghost. And, you can't forget that we spent a whole summer with Klaus, which is worse than any of that. Even though those things happened, you managed to come back strong and more powerful." He laid a kiss on my forehead. "You're gonna get through this, Clara."

   I pressed my head against his chest, staring up at the half-dim ceiling. I wanted to believe his words, to keep them inside of my head and chest, but I couldn't. His words were just that, words. They left as soon as they came, like wind. His words were winds. I gripped his shirt and closed my eyes, allowing sleep to consume me. 

   I was broken beyond repair, and I was terrified of what that could do to me.