The Fury

It was empty. Though Tyler had gotten out of the hospital the day before, he hadn’t returned to school. Still, there should be no danger of his remembering anything from that grisly afternoon. The subliminal suggestion to forget should hold for quite a while, as long as no one messed with Tyler’s mind.

He suddenly became aware that he was staring at Tyler’s empty desk with narrow, brooding eyes. As he looked away, he caught the glance of someone who’d been watching him do it.

Matt turned quickly and bent over his history book, but not before Stefan saw his expression.

December 5-I don’t know what time, probably early afternoon.

Dear Diary,

Damon got you back for me this morning. Stefan said he didn’t want me going into Alaric’s attic again. This is Stefan’s pen I’m using. I don’t own anything anymore, or at least I can’t get at any of my own things, and most of them Aunt Judith would miss if I took them. I’m sitting right now in a barn behind the boardinghouse. I can’t go where people sleep, you know, unless I’ve been invited in. I guess animals don’t count, because there are some rats sleeping here under the hay and an owl in the rafters. At the moment, we’re ignoring each other.

I’m trying very hard not to have hysterics.

I thought writing might help. Something normal, something familiar. Except that nothing in my life is normal anymore.

Damon says I’ll get used to it faster if I throw my old life away and embrace the new one. He seems to think it’s inevitable that I turn out like him. He says I was born to be a hunter and there’s no point in doing things halfway.

I hunted a deer last night. A stag, because it was making the most noise, clashing its antlers against tree branches, challenging other males. I drank its blood.

When I look over this diary, all I can see is that I was searching for something, for someplace to belong. But this isn’t it. This new life isn’t it. I’m afraid of what I’ll become if I do start to belong here.

Oh, God, I’m frightened.

The barn owl is almost pure white, especially when it spreads its wings so you can see the underside. From the back it looks more gold. It has just a little gold around the face. It’s staring at me right now because I’m making noises, trying not to cry.

It’s funny that I can still cry. I guess it’s witches that can’t.

It’s started snowing outside. I’m pulling my cloak up around me.

Elena tucked the little book close to her body and drew the soft dark velvet of the cloak up to her chin. The barn was utterly silent, except for the minute breathing of the animals that slept there. Outside the snow drifted down just as soundlessly, blanketing the world in muffling stillness. Elena stared at it with unseeing eyes, scarcely noticing the tears that ran down her cheeks.

"And could Bonnie McCullough and Caroline Forbes please stay after class a moment," Alaric said as the last bell rang.

Stefan frowned, a frown that deepened as he saw Vickie Bennett hovering outside the open door of the history room, her eyes shy and frightened. "I’ll be right outside," he said meaningfully to Bonnie, who nodded. He added a warning lift of his eyebrows, and she responded with a virtuous look. Catch me saying anything I’m not supposed to, the look said.

Vickie Bennett was entering as he exited, and he had to step out of her way. But that took him right into the path of Matt, who’d come out the other door and was trying to get down the corridor as fast as possible.

Stefan grabbed his arm without thinking. "Matt, wait."

"Let go of me." Matt’s fist came up. He looked at it in apparent surprise, as if not sure what he should be so mad about. But every muscle in his body was fighting Stefan’s grip.

"I just want to talk to you. Just for a minute, all right?"

"I don’t have a minute," Matt said, and at last his eyes, a lighter, less complicated blue than Elena’s, met Stefan’s. But there was a blankness in the depths of them that reminded Stefan of the look of someone who’d been hypnotized, or who was under the influence of some Power.

Only it was no Power except Matt’s own mind, he realized abruptly. This was what the human brain did to itself when faced with something it simply couldn’t deal with. Matt had shut down, turned off.

Testing, Stefan said, "About what happened Saturday night-"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, I said I had to go, damn it." Denial was like a fortress behind Matt’s eyes. But Stefan had to try again.

"I don’t blame you for being mad. If I were you, I’d be furious. And I know what it’s like not to want to think, especially when thinking can drive you crazy." Matt was shaking his head, and Stefan looked around the hallway. It was almost empty, and desperation made him willing to take a risk. He lowered his voice. "But maybe you’d at least like to know that Elena’s awake, and she’s much-"

"Elena’s dead!" Matt shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the corridor. "And I told you to let go of me!" he added, oblivious of their audience, and shoved Stefan hard. It was so unexpected that Stefan stumbled back against the lockers, almost ending up sprawled on the ground. He stared at Matt, but Matt never even glanced back as he took off down the hallway.

Stefan spent the rest of the time until Bonnie emerged just staring at the wall. There was a poster there for the Snow Dance, and he knew every inch of it by the time the girls came out.

Despite everything Caroline had tried to do to him and Elena, Stefan found he couldn’t summon up any hatred of her. Her auburn hair looked faded, her face pinched. Instead of being willowy, her posture just looked wilted, he thought, watching her go.

"Yes, of course. Alaric just knows we three-Vickie, Caroline, and I-have been through a lot, and he wants us to know that he supports us," Bonnie said, but even her dogged optimism about the history teacher sounded a little forced. "None of us told him about anything, though. He’s having another get-together at his house next week," she added brightly.