As though he would clean it up. Elena would have cleaned up any mess she made once she was in her right mind once more. But luckily it hadn’t come to that. Instead she clung to him, crying until she couldn’t cry anymore, let the pain flow until her throat was sore, her eyes red and puffy, cheeks tear stained and blotchy. And then, finally blessedly numb and exhausted, Elena rested against him.
“Everyone I care about gets hurt,” she advised softly, eyes squeezed shut. “Everyone I love gets hurt because of me. If my mom and dad hadn’t adopted me....” Everyone’s lives would have been so much better. “I can’t keep doing this, Damon. I can’t keep losing people.’