What We Knew (Damon Salvatore x Reader)

the annual grand gala

***CW: intense descriptions of hunger***

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The early summer air was hot and sticky against her skin that June 1st morning. It smelled bright and sweet, as welcoming as it did last summer in Mystic Falls. But she didn't feel any of that welcome. Laying in bed, her body sore and stiff and achy. The pure cotton sheets under her back were hot. Every inch that spread her bed was hot. It seeped into her skin, like a human's touch, growing warmer and warmer. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Under her eyes, under her lips. She cursed the complete lack of airflow in that godforsaken estate, and sat up quickly, swinging her legs off the bed. She reached down, tugging at the hem of her nightgown and pulled it over her head. Like a towel, Y/N swiped the gown at her bare body. Mopping up any moisture she could as she strolled to her attached bathroom. She patted the dress behind her neck, letting the cotton soak up her sweat. She traced it under her breasts, hating how the dampness felt there. Then she patted her armpits, and tossed the cotton lazily into the laundry bag. She leaned over the clawfoot tub for the faucet, turning only the knob with an engraved 'F'.

She let the water run for a couple minutes, as Avery had instructed on Y/N's first night there, and turned back to the wide mirror stretching the length of the room. She looked at the tired girl before her. The ugly bruise Elias marked her with still lingered on her cheek. He'd struck her nearly two weeks ago, yet here she stood before herself, a darkening and yellowing blotching of skin that still carried a small throb here and there. Her delicate fingers grazed her wound. No one should have a mark like that.

She was much thinner than she looked in the mirrors at home, too. And unhealthily so. She hadn't the privilege of stuffing herself full on Stefan's elaborate meals. Hadn't the privilege of seeing her dear Damon show up right before her break at work, dinner in hand.

An ugly growl from her belly pulled her from the thought, her palm flying just between her ribs. The hunger hurt, worse than it did after Gillian. Worse than when she ate a total of three energy bars during her time at Katherine's. A wince slipped from her tongue, and she sucked in a breath, crouching down. She reached her other hand down, palm flat on the ancient tile floor, holding herself steady. Spots scattered her vision seeming at random. Little lights flew across her eyes as she felt her stomach tighten within her. It was like she was trying to digest something. But there was nothing there to digest. Her stomach moved and trembled, feeling like sandpaper inside her.

"God..." She sighed, "okay..." She nodded, stiffening her fingers for a moment, "okay, okay, okay..." She nodded again. She reached her hand out once more, gripping the edge of the tub, and safely she stood herself back up.

A fuzziness in her ear she hadn't noticed dwindled slightly, the spattering of the showerhead echoing like thunder in the tall bathroom. She crawled over the edge of the tub, kneeling on its cold cast iron ground. She reached for the bar on a small wooden bench just outside the tub, wetting it and lathering the suds between her hands. The oily base of the shampoo slid against her hands, the sulfates and glycerin bubbling and foaming between her fingers. She brought the bar to her hair, slicking her strands with every slide.

Water sprinkled down on her thighs, icy and cold. Like little pricking needles. She slicked her arms with the oily bar, and turned herself around.

Legs still folded under her, she tilted her head back, letting the frigid droplets fall to her hair. Saturating her strands so slowly, the pressure weak and waning. The light foam cascaded down her body, sucking through the drain. Her arms and fingers twitched at the coldness, a nausea built within her.

Mouth watering, her stomach aching, her throat tightening. Yet, nothing in her belly to throw up.

Finally Y/N emerged from her given room. 11:00 am on the dot. Everyday.