Lost Souls

I was going to walk in there confident, sexy and strong.

That’s how I wanted myself to be perceived.

I dressed in tight black jeans, matching boots that hid daggers and a purple corset top over black lace. My hair was loose, curling at my back and I used, as usual, little make-up, but it gave a good effect: the extremely dark eyeliner was applied thinly and then there was the lip gloss I recently bought. The silver earrings that adorned my ears were my only jewellery and I was ready.

I felt like an avenging angel, descending upon Louis’ house to do some damage.

Damned if it didn’t feel good.

I drove like I was hell bent. It was fun; having my sexy little grey convertible drive fucking fast. I didn’t know if it was my expression that did it or if Louis specifically told them, but once the guards spotted me they had quickly opened the doors.

My strides were long, somewhat fast; my eyes were determined and my mouth held a little smile that showed no warmth.

As I entered the house, Louis appeared before me.

I stopped.

"Cherie," he said softly, "are you sure you know what you're doing?"

I looked at him steadily.

Did I?

I mean, wasn't the majority of this story so far was me bitching and moaning about how I'm sad and alone and it's basically Damon's fault?

I guess I more elaborate on how hurt I am because this is technically my thoughts and no one else hears it…

I sighed. "I don't know. But I'm fed up of feeling like this. I just want..." What do I want? Retribution? Peace?

"What do you want?" he asked. My eyes turned cold.

"I want to hurt Damon Salvatore."

"Someone called me?"

Now because of my powers, I could sense many things. I knew that Damon was standing about ten feet away from me. I knew that there was a woman with him, about 5"8. Then I began using my powers. I prodded into their minds--unfortunately my principles allowed me to only do searches on the surface. Thoughts on the surface are basically a person’s immediate thoughts. It's really easy and kind of reflexive for e to do, especially if the person hasn't guarded their minds.

Damon and his hoe...yeah they weren't guarded.

And do you want to know what they were thinking? God, I wished I didn't. His girl was thinking about the great fuck they had and he was basically thinking about fucking her senseless once more...and he was curious about the woman with the curly blonde hair who said his name (aka me).

What an asshole.

So I was pissed—although I had no right to be—and I turned around.

I must say, on the inside I was trying to keep myself from going weak in the knees. He was still as beautiful as ever. He was wearing only soft pants; his chest and feet were bare. His brown hair was tousled and he looked really cute…

I could afford to say that the man I truly hated was cute because, well Hell, you have to admit, the man is smoking H-O-T. And well his reaction when I face him was great!

I don’t know how to describe his reaction to me except that they were a mixture of shock, wonder and despair. One thing that confused me though, was that I swear I saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes for a second. But as quickly as my confusion came, it went, and I was relishing his befuddlement.

“What--?” he failed to asked.

My lips twisted into a cruel smile; my eyes turned cold and dark like the deep abyss. I may be fighting for the better of the world but this cruelty…I needed it, even if I might feel badly later on.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” I said cheerfully. “Well, not officially anyways.” I pressed against his mind, hurting him a little; the attack, like a slight push, didn’t affect him at all and probably felt like a minor headache.

“R-really?” he stammered.
“Yep. I’m pretty sure, we met up at the Louis’ ball.” I walked to him and held out a hand to shake. “I’m Riann.”

“That’s impossible! I was with him the whole of that night,” a shrilly voice said next to Damon. It was only then that anyone at all paid attention to the bimbo vampire Damon bedded. I was pretty sure Christophe stopped breathing behind me.