It was the worst thing that ever could have happened to him, to them, to anyone. When he was fourteen, he set up a video camera so he could see what it was he looked like when he transformed during the full moon. There was really no way to tell. There was no control over the werewolf, no mirror, no memory.
He set up the camera, and he saw the truth, horrified, terrified at what it is that he was.
Why take the risk? He’s asked their mother. Why take the risk at all? And he doesn’t remember her answer now, can barely remember anything a all, he only remembers she looked very sad.
It’s the sadness that stays like Elena’s expression when she was insisting that it wouldn’t happen, insisting that he not hurt himself and that she knew what he was doing, but she wouldn’t let him die. Not that there was any way that he could die that night or he would have without hesitation.
He didn’t have that option though. It wasn’t given to him in any capacity. They were in a small cell with only the two of them, and he broke his wrists trying to free himself from the shackles, and it didn’t do any good at all. It didn’t change anything, and he couldn’t even use the chains to stop his own breathing.
And the aftermath and waking up and knowing-
The nothingness though it stays with him is merciful.
It’s much more merciful than what he was reduced to on the floor of that cell in the morning after it had all happened and the full moon went away to be replaced by the sun though he couldn’t see it from where he was. There was- there was only the blood that he saw everywhere.
This isn’t Ethan at all. He is locked away so far inside of himself that- it’s the ultimate means of avoidance, the ultimate coping mechanism that was practically instinct. There was no way that Ethan would have survived knowing that. His mind would have splintered apart, and it already started to before it all shut down, everything shut down. And it’s still shut down.
Logan is standing near Connor, and he reaches a hand over to rest against his shoulder as they wait there as if he can sense the anger. Likely because he feels it himself, he feels it intensely. They all do after everything that happened, and the shock and all of it hasn’t worn off yet.
They all made it through, all made it through alive though, and- He looks at Connor for a moment before he looks at Elena again. He doesn’t need to hear what happened. A part of him will always wonder because it’s his brother, but he- he just needs all of them to make it through this. Maybe he is hallucinating. If it’s not a trick, maybe-
It seems so real. Everything has tangled up in his mind but if it is a hallucination, wouldn’t he rather believe that than reality anyway?
He shakes his head as he stares at her. “I killed you. You were screaming. I- my claws-“ Ethan stares at her arm, but there’s no blood there. There’s nothing, but it happened last night. There wouldn’t be blood. It happened last night, not right now, not right now. He breathes in through the fire in his chest.
Bile rises up through his throat as he closes his eyes tight and then looks at him again as she lifts up his hand, and it’s that- that that has him reacting.
Ethan shakes pulling his hand away as if it burned him but it wasn’t- he’s the fire and she’s what gets burned. His hand pulls back, shaking- trembling visibly as he looks at her, no more nothingness, the pain and the guilt in his eyes. “How could you-“
Let him touch her, let him touch her after that. How could she? How can he trust his body? He can’t. He can’t, and he feels sick, nearly doubles over with it again, head bowed low, one hand pressed against his stomach, and he lowers his head until it's resting against her shoulder. That feels like her too, that feels, it feels real. He’s shaky and he feels sick, but it’s not nothing anymore. It’s Ethan being pulled back, being reached by Elena, and it shouldn’t and isn’t surprising she’s the only one that-
Is she real? How else is she here? Why would the nothing hallucinate Elena? God, he wants to touch her but he’s afraid to. His hands slide into shaky fists, the whole of him trembling slightly as he shuts his eyes and then forces them open again, tears burning in his eyes.
Does he dare let himself think for a second? That he didn’t rip her apart and eat her, that he didn’t spill her blood on- all-
"Don't care if I am hallucinating." He wants- needs- he can't.
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He set up the camera, and he saw the truth, horrified, terrified at what it is that he was.
Why take the risk? He’s asked their mother. Why take the risk at all? And he doesn’t remember her answer now, can barely remember anything a all, he only remembers she looked very sad.
It’s the sadness that stays like Elena’s expression when she was insisting that it wouldn’t happen, insisting that he not hurt himself and that she knew what he was doing, but she wouldn’t let him die. Not that there was any way that he could die that night or he would have without hesitation.
He didn’t have that option though. It wasn’t given to him in any capacity. They were in a small cell with only the two of them, and he broke his wrists trying to free himself from the shackles, and it didn’t do any good at all. It didn’t change anything, and he couldn’t even use the chains to stop his own breathing.
And the aftermath and waking up and knowing-
The nothingness though it stays with him is merciful.
It’s much more merciful than what he was reduced to on the floor of that cell in the morning after it had all happened and the full moon went away to be replaced by the sun though he couldn’t see it from where he was. There was- there was only the blood that he saw everywhere.
This isn’t Ethan at all. He is locked away so far inside of himself that- it’s the ultimate means of avoidance, the ultimate coping mechanism that was practically instinct. There was no way that Ethan would have survived knowing that. His mind would have splintered apart, and it already started to before it all shut down, everything shut down. And it’s still shut down.
Logan is standing near Connor, and he reaches a hand over to rest against his shoulder as they wait there as if he can sense the anger. Likely because he feels it himself, he feels it intensely. They all do after everything that happened, and the shock and all of it hasn’t worn off yet.
They all made it through, all made it through alive though, and- He looks at Connor for a moment before he looks at Elena again. He doesn’t need to hear what happened. A part of him will always wonder because it’s his brother, but he- he just needs all of them to make it through this.
Maybe he is hallucinating. If it’s not a trick, maybe-
It seems so real. Everything has tangled up in his mind but if it is a hallucination, wouldn’t he rather believe that than reality anyway?
He shakes his head as he stares at her. “I killed you. You were screaming. I- my claws-“ Ethan stares at her arm, but there’s no blood there. There’s nothing, but it happened last night. There wouldn’t be blood. It happened last night, not right now, not right now. He breathes in through the fire in his chest.
Bile rises up through his throat as he closes his eyes tight and then looks at him again as she lifts up his hand, and it’s that- that that has him reacting.
Ethan shakes pulling his hand away as if it burned him but it wasn’t- he’s the fire and she’s what gets burned. His hand pulls back, shaking- trembling visibly as he looks at her, no more nothingness, the pain and the guilt in his eyes. “How could you-“
Let him touch her, let him touch her after that. How could she? How can he trust his body? He can’t. He can’t, and he feels sick, nearly doubles over with it again, head bowed low, one hand pressed against his stomach, and he lowers his head until it's resting against her shoulder. That feels like her too, that feels, it feels real. He’s shaky and he feels sick, but it’s not nothing anymore. It’s Ethan being pulled back, being reached by Elena, and it shouldn’t and isn’t surprising she’s the only one that-
Is she real? How else is she here? Why would the nothing hallucinate Elena? God, he wants to touch her but he’s afraid to. His hands slide into shaky fists, the whole of him trembling slightly as he shuts his eyes and then forces them open again, tears burning in his eyes.
Does he dare let himself think for a second? That he didn’t rip her apart and eat her, that he didn’t spill her blood on- all-
"Don't care if I am hallucinating." He wants- needs- he can't.