Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
IN THE MOMENT STEFAN SAW CAMILA'S BODY BECOME LIFELESS HE FELT HIS SWITCH FLIP ON INVOLUNTARILY.
It was how one might imagine the sensation of an ink splatter. It starts like a droplet, the sharp pain in his heart as though a single tug on his heartstrings was bringing it back to life, and then the ink would stretch and contort in various directions, his entire body becoming aware of every sensation bit by bit. Just as one emotion was felt it was overcome by another, spreading through every inch of his body until at last the emotional ink in question was stretched so thinly it had dried on the page, leaving him only with an aching pain that made him feel as though someone was hollowing him out from the inside.
He hadn't realised he was screaming until the ringing in his ears stopped.
He fell to the ground, clutching her lifeless body. He knew her heart wasn't beating, he couldn't hear it anymore, but he desperately scrambled closer to her, sobbing as he pushed his ear down on her chest in the hope that he might hear something. That he might hear anything. He didn't.
"Wake up," he cried. "Cami, please just wake up,"
He shook her body. He was gentle at first but she didn't stir. Then he was aggressive, his grip on her cold arms become firmer, but she still didn't move. He cried out, a strange guttural sound that was so unfamiliar that even he wanted to recoil having heard it pass his lips.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," He buried his face in her hair. It still smelt like her. As a matter of fact she smelled even stronger of her perfume than she usually did. It smelled fresh, like it was just applied.
"Stefan..." The voice was too distant, too distorted for Stefan to make out. All he could think about was what the last thing he said to her was. He couldn't even remember it. The last words he ever said to his friend, the friend who had stuck by him for all these years, the only friend that was able to take his mind off of Elena when they broke up, the only friend who was interested enough in all of his historical stories from his vampire life - the good and the ugly - to beg him to tell her more, the only friend who shared his mutual dislike of dancing and decades discos and the only friend who had always, always loved him no matter how low he sunk or how wrong he did her. His best friend. And he couldn't remember what his last words to her were. He was sure they were something horrible.
There were more mumbles. Someone must have been having a conversation. He couldn't make it out. He wanted to get up and tear Klaus' heart out but his own legs were so shaky he knew he wouldn't even be able to stand. He didn't have it in him for vengeance. Not right now.
There was another voice again. A male voice. "Phasmatos Oculacs..."
The other voice, the one that had called his name the first time returned again. "Stefan..."
