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iii. A DEMON NAMED GUILT
LOSS had become a consistent theme in Stefan Salvatore's life. He had become accustomed to it. No matter who he met, he knew that eventually, he would lose them. It was inevitable.
He was sure he was cursed. After all, how was losing everyone close to you normal?
He lost his mother at a young age to sickness, his brother's innocence to the war, his father to his own anger, and of course, his sister.
Worst of all, Stefan had lost his twin and he had never been the same since then.
Looking into a mirror had become a task he had to encourage himself to do because every time he saw his reflection, there was a piece of Ivy in him.
Perhaps it was his eyes; the green color that he once loved now a painful reminder of the eyes his twin shared in color. Or maybe it was the curve of his smile and the way a dimple formed when he genuinely smiled; not that he had done that in years. Ivy never failed to make him smile; from the way she would scold her brothers to the soft motherly tone she would speak in as she read stories to him as a child, despite Stefan being older.
Everything was a bitter reminder of what he lost and despite knowing deep down so much of it was not a direct result of his actions; he couldn't help but drown in the guilt.
Guilt consumed him. It took over his mind, whispering taunts at him whenever it could; making sure he knew that it was all his fault.
But of course, as a vampire, there were ways to numb that suffering.
And when Stefan lost his twin, blood soothed that anguish and pain; he could redirect his guilt into something else, his addiction.
Stefan Salvatore became a ripper.
Most addictions were built off of suffering because it allows for you to fixate on something that is not your pain. It numbs the parts of you that are aching for just a moment of silence.
And for a while, it provides you with that silence; numbs you so you don't have to feel anymore. That is, until your body begins to crave the next hit. Having become so used to the numbness, the body begins to beg for it once more.
And it did the same to Stefan.
At first, drinking blood was glorious. It was vibrant and warm, sliding down his throat and alleviating the ache in his gums and mind. His mind would turn to mush, so consumed in the object of his addiction.
But after a while, it became a chore to keep up with it and the guilt took over his mind anytime he was not feeding.
Every time he broke his mouth away from a bloody neck, watching as the bodies limbs fell off and to the ground, painting the most horrific image of his addiction.
And consumed in his guilt, he would reassemble them, whispering his apologies again and again under his breath.
The guilt never left. No matter how many times he said he was sorry. It would merge with the all consuming guilt he had about his family and his mind would spin and his gums would ache for a release.
Stefan may have lost almost everyone in his life, but the one thing that would never truly leave him would be his addiction.
