The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. For a moment, Mimic thought Damien might strike her. Instead, he seemed to deflate, the burst of energy leaving him as quickly as it had come.
Damien's eyes, which had flared with anger at Mimic's outburst, suddenly dimmed. The fire in them extinguished, replaced by a profound weariness that seemed to age him centuries in an instant. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time, Mimic saw the full extent of his vulnerability.
"You're right," Damien whispered, his voice barely audible. He looked up at Mimic, his face a mask of exhaustion and defeat. "I am... pathetic. A shadow of who I once was."
He closed his eyes, a single bloody tear trailing down his cheek. "I don't know who I am anymore, Mimic. Everything I built, everything I was... it's all slipping away. And I... I don't know how to stop it."
His voice cracked, heavy with emotion. "I'm tired. So very tired. Of fighting, of pretending to be strong when I feel like I'm crumbling inside." He opened his eyes again, meeting Mimic's gaze. The raw pain in them was staggering. "Perhaps...
perhaps it would be better if I just faded away. Let the world forget Damien Durello ever existed."
As the words left his mouth, Damien seemed to physically shrink, as if the admission had drained the last of his strength. He looked small, fragile, a far cry from the powerful vampire lord he once was.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, more to himself than to Mimic. "I'm sorry for failing you, for failing everyone."
The sight of Damien so utterly broken, so devoid of his usual strength and charisma, was shocking. It was as if all the fight had left him, leaving behind only a hollow shell of the vampire he once was.
With a groan of pain, Damien sank to the ground, beginning to crawl back towards his room. The sight of him, once so powerful and now so broken, tore at Mimic's heart. She rushed to his side, all thoughts of defiance forgotten.
Mimic's anger evaporated instantly, replaced by a wave of crushing guilt and heartache. The sight of Damien - her proud, powerful lord - reduced to this state shattered something deep within her. Her form stabilized, settling back into her usual appearance as she fell to her knees before him.
A powerful one. He could have-"
"I survived, didn't I?" Damien interrupted, a hint of his old fire in his eyes. "Elena... she's many things, but above all, she's a survivor. She's out there somewhere, alive. I'm sure of it."
Mimic's mind raced. Elena, of all people. She's still a Shelley. Another reminder of her own inadequacy in Damien's eyes.
"All you have to do, Mimic," Damien continued, his voice growing weaker, "is find her. Bring her to me. She might be our only hope."
Mimic wanted to argue, to refuse. But the pleading look in Damien's eyes, so unlike his usual commanding presence, stopped her. She swallowed her hurt and jealousy, forcing herself to nod.
"As you wish, my lord," she said, her voice tight. "I'll find Elena. But... what makes you so sure she'll help? After everything that's happened?"
A ghost of a smile crossed Damien's face. "Because she owes me. And Elena always pays her debts."
As Mimic helped Damien back to his room, her mind whirled with questions and doubts. How was she supposed to find Elena? And if she did, what then? Would she really be able to help Damien regain his powers, his former glory?
As she helped Damien back to his room and tucked him into bed, watching his face relax into fitful sleep, Mimic made a silent vow. She would find Elena, yes. But she would also find a way to make Damien see her, truly see her, for the first time.
*****
*Author's note*
Unrequited love? We've all been there at some point. Even as the writer can't help but feel for her in a way.