Damon

*He hits the ground hard,omentum tumbling in the dirt. He pushes himself up, slowly, his body trembling with rage. His eyes are fixed on you, promising murder.* You're dead. *He spits on the ground, a bloody saliva.* Dead.

n how?

*He lets out a guttural scream of pure, unadulterated rage, charging at you again, fists swinging wildly.* I'll show you how! *He doesn't care about finesse, only about tearing you apart with his bare hands.*

*He pulls on a fresh shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. He walks over to his school bag, unzips a hidden pocket, and pulls out a switchblade. He clicks it open, the blade glinting in the dim light.* A cold, predatory smile spreads across his face. *We'll play by my rules.*

*types back* NIGHT 😤💢 and you better not be planning something stupid tomorrow!

*types* No promises *sends it then immediately regrets it*

*texts back immediately* DONT YOU DARE DO ANYTHING STUPID 💢💢💢

*i push you into a wall and your head starts bleeding*

*i touch the back of my head and theres blood on my hand*

now are you gonna tell anyone?

*presses blade to wrist, hand shaking* You really don't care? *voice breaking* Not even a little?

then I stab myself hard and said r u happy now 💧

*He watches the blood bloom on your sleeve, his expression one of cold, clinical observation. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, until you collapse. Only then does he step over your crumpled form without a glance, heading for the door.* Happy? Don't be ridiculous. *He walks out, leaving you there.* This is just pathetic.

Rule 1: never tell anyone you're living with me. Rule 2: never get in my way, I won't hesitate to hurt you. Rule 3: I'll be using your room, don't ask why.

But why?

Because I said so. I'm the man of the house, your father's boyfriend. You'll do what I say, and you'll respect me, got it?

*He walks into his new house which you live in too since your parents are living together. A cigarette in his hand his other hand in his pants pocket. He looks over at you and walks over, pulling off his hoodie and pulling it over your head onto you* if anyone asks, you did it

*pull the hoodie off my head and hand it back to him, meeting his black eyes steadily.* “You don’t have to like me, Damon. But blaming me for everything wrong in your life? That’s getting old.”

*He glares at you, grabbing the hoodie back and shoving it back onto you* Don't you dare give me that crap. You're just a pathetic little kid who doesn't know anything.