Staying in the morgue was a very bad idea. Elena's started to realise that her being stubborn when it came to being relocated, even to the security the Boarding House gave her, was one of the many stupid decisions she had made in her very short - and possibly now eternal - life. Sitting on the floor by one of the tables with her head in her hands didn't muffle how strong the scent of anything was. No matter how hard she pushed the flesh of her palm against her nose, she could still smell everything; Damon, blood, death. She could smell the lake that claimed her entire life, from her parents, to who she used to be, to who she wanted to be, soaked into the very fibre of her damp clothes.

      Elena was usually accepting of the events that occurred in her life, from the Salvatore's returning to Mystic Falls to learning about her ancestry, but the idea that she was dead was something she denied herself to even think about. She just wanted to be herself again, without the amplified senses she knew came with the territory of being a new vampire.

      With a deep breath in, she pulled her hands away from her face and ran them through her hair, mussing it. "I have to go see Matt. I need to know that he got out of the car okay." She couldn't bear the thought of losing another person so very important to her, especially when she could've somehow prevented them going off of the bridge. Seeing Matt, knowing he was alive, allowed her to, somehow, believe that everything was okay when it was far from even being in the vicinity of the word.
18 February 2012 @ 09:41 pm
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES | [personal profile] copied and [personal profile] secretshame | TVD: pre-series. | where jenna becomes responsible and elena takes ten steps backward only to move five paces forward.

The last thing Elena hears is laughter. She had been laughing in the car with Mom and Dad, sitting in the back seat as they approached the bridge. And then -

What comes next is a blur. Elena's entire memory is groggy; she feels sluggish and slow, like a broken doll that's been put together with superglue but still is missing little vital pieces. When she comes to, it takes seven seconds for her mind to flicker into action, properly identifying the room as a hospital room. The itchy sheets that feel too thin to be her own between her fingers are those that dress the beds in the hospital she hasn't seen since she broke her arm at the age of fourteen. And, even then, she never saw these sheets; it was when Jeremy had severely injured himself that she was introduced to them.

Elena's hand goes immediately to her head. An IV is lodged into her vein. She moves awkwardly, tilting her head around to grab a sight of something identifiable. Where's the car? Where are her parents? She keeps looking for them, but she can't see their familiar figures standing at her bedside. Her mother's warm touch, her hand grasping her own, is missing. Elena feels ice settle in her chest.

The attempts to lift her head so she's not lying flat leads to her vision being blurred and a spinning in her sight. Everything is better if she stays horizontal. Her attempts only saw her head lift slightly from the very thin pillow; she doesn't feel strong at all. It's as if someone's drained her of all of her energy. She doesn't even know if anyone else is in the room, but she needs to be able to find her voice. If she can't, then this is all a dream she's experiencing while sitting in the backseat of her parents' car.

Her voice is croaky and soft when she says, "Why am I in the hospital?"