WHO: Elena and Damon (deadlycharming) WHEN: Sunday night, after this WHERE: Elena's bedroom WHAT: Elena's moping, Damon's stalking RATING: TBD STATUS: In progress
Elena shut down the computer with a sigh. She didn't like writing her diary onto a screen. Tapping away at the keyboard felt impersonal somehow, in a way writing with a pen didn't. Still, it was better than nothing. Perhaps. It had reminded her of when Stefan had written down her thoughts for her, before she'd learned how to speak again, and thinking of Stefan just made her feel sad on so many levels.
She watched the screen go black, but didn't move for a few moments, just staring blankly out in front of her, as thought waiting for a brilliant Plan A on how to deal with this situation to drop into her mind. It didn't. Frowning, she got up and walked over to the bed she'd been provided with. The apartment was nice enough, but she felt lonely and depressed - a feeling she wasn't overly familiar with - and it was beginning to feel more and more like a prison to her. She really had considered going out and finding a bar that would serve her and just getting wasted, like she'd said to Damon, but she knew that wouldn't solve anything, and it only increased the chance of bumping into him while he was out looking for someone to feed off of, and, after last night, she really didn't think she could stand that. Besides, she might even meet one of those weird alternate universe versions of herself or the brothers, and that was one kind of freaky she really didn't want to deal with today.
She kicked off her pumps and curled up on the end of her bed, her blonde hair fanning out across the bedspread beneath her cheek. She toyed with the idea of crying, but the tears wouldn't come. She just felt horribly hollow and empty, possibly due to the knowledge that she wasn't as cut up over the loss of Stefan as she should have been. What was wrong with her? She didn't even know herself any more.