25. L'oiseau.

I had been on my own for a couple of blissful hours, relishing in the solitude and savoring the sweet nostalgia that washed over me as I watched my favorite TV series. The comforting glow of the screen and the familiar theme song created a cozy ambiance, helping me push aside the unpleasant memories that lingered in the depths of my mind.

But my tranquility was interrupted when Lepard sauntered into the room. He glanced at me, a sly smirk playing on his lips, though his eyes failed to reflect the amusement.

Slipping into bed beside me, he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "That telepathy blocker you've got gave me a pounding headache. Why did you activate it? You know I don't readily spill my secrets to Salvatore. I'm genuinely concerned about you, my love. And you know, it takes a lot to worry me. Are you trying to suppress a memory?"

Meeting his gaze, I tilted my head slightly and retorted, "Ah, when you bear the Salvatore name, curiosity becomes second nature. But fret not, I'll be fine. You know me and my mind. It's a tangled mess sometimes, but I'm adept at tucking away the troublesome bits."

Lepard paused, lost in thought, and at that moment, I felt the presence of the leopard in my mind. It prowled, sniffing and exploring, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden within. It was an odd sensation, not unsettling, just a manifestation of his unique power.

It reminded me of his feline nature, something we shared, as I, a base species jaguar, possessed a similar solitary demeanor and alpha disposition. Unlike the rest of our pack, Lepard, being a leopard, was not bound by the pack mentality. This was one bond we had in common.

Allowing the cat to roam in my thoughts, I calmly stated, "You won't find anything out there. Just let it be. I'm not sharing, and you shouldn't pry. You already know what I endured at your father's hands, and I'm simply not in the mood to dig up any more painful memories."

Leopard stood in silence, his words barely audible as he spoke. The room was filled with an eerie stillness, broken only by the faint sound of his voice. As he reached out to stroke me, a sense of unease washed over me. His smile, although present, failed to reach his sky-blue eyes that stared at me with a hint of deception.

I could sense the underlying rage within him, always simmering just below the surface. His temperamental nature made it difficult for him to accept a refusal to his commands. With a sigh, I glanced at my husband, a man both stubborn and tenacious, yet also loving and strong. It was challenging to get him to relax and simply be content. Perhaps Leopard could handle it, but his explosive rage, if unleashed, could raise questions if Damon noticed.

I didn't want to subject him to that. It was not a straightforward decision, but I needed to find a way to pacify Leopard and let the matter go. I knew he had been working tirelessly on his telepathic abilities, striving for improvement. However, finding teachers was not always possible.

I looked at Leopard and mustered the courage to say, "Just let it be. The time is not right yet. I'm fine, as you can see. Maybe one day, your telepaths can delve into my mind and cleanse it, but not now. My thoughts are already filled with shit. Even if you spent an entire day each week working on my mind, it would take centuries to untangle it, and in that time, more shit would find its way in."

Leopard let out a sigh, and the presence of the cat in my mind vanished.

He drew closer, enveloping me in his embrace, and reassured me, "One day, you will learn to fully trust me, and then I can truly help you. But there is no rush. I have already honed my telepathic skills through my efforts. I am not pressuring you. I just want to show you that this pack has another ally, aside from Salvatore or the Salvatores. When I assist you, I don't need anyone else by my side. I am not like Damon, weak and easily swayed. Yes, he has grown and changed, but his changes fade when Mariella and her influence are present. However, he locked me in a cage for seven years, without hesitation. Since your return, no one has set foot in that cage, not even those who deserved it."

I found myself nestled under Lepard's protective arm, feeling safe and secure.

With a sigh, I confessed, "I'm not surprised. I seem to be his favorite target for bullying and torture. But I have my secrets, and I have defenders too. Did you know that my medical records have been tampered with? They've removed a lot of information that Salvatore doesn't need to know. Somehow, I inspire protection for myself. Colin and Samuel are both very protective, even though Samuel is under Salvatore. They cleaned up my records when they found out I was back after seven years."

Lepard let out a soft grunt, holding me close, and asked, "What did they erase? And why?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of the memories, and replied, "They erased my reports, what I personally told Colin, what had been done to me, some findings, and their speculations. You see, they showed me the originals, in case I ever wanted to show the pack. But they don't want the pack to know, that's their opinion. Even Samuel, who wasn't with me during that time, agreed with Colin that Salvatores shouldn't know."

Lepard pondered this, keeping me tightly in his embrace, providing a sense of security.

He asked, "Can you give me an example of what they deleted and why?"

I took a deep breath, recalling the painful memory, and explained, "For instance, when I was held captive for over two months, I endured countless experiments involving electricity. My fingertips and toes were coated with metals, but that information never made it to the Salvatores. They removed my toes and part of my fingers, and it took a while for my healing powers to kick in. Whenever I suffered severe injuries, not all the damage was disclosed to the Salvatores. They only included certain types of injuries in their reports."

Lepard gazed at me, his voice filled with concern as he pulled me closer. "Why was that information withheld? What harm would it have caused?"

I breathed and said, "You are almost as good an interrogator as your father, but fine, because some of the damage was such that Salvatores immediately recognized how it was done. They did not want salvatores to know that. So only non-recognizable damages were written in salvatores version and they were enough. "

Lepard thought momentarily. It seemed that he could always find the right question on how to pry more information out of me, but he did not use his telepathy at the same time.

He kept me close and said, " Can you tell me, even partially? How they were made and why it would have been a bad thing for Salvatores to know that?"

I thought for a moment and answered; I knew I might have got the Salvatore on my back for this, but I wanted to show Lepard I could trust him. I knew that his rage might blow up because of this.

My voice was quiet. "They were done with shed session devices, very shed session style. It is something that could set them off, so to speak, to dig into my mind, and I do not want that right now. Besides, it is not for them to know. But this was not only a reduced version. There were so many more, and in so many cases, they just did not want Salvatores to get a too clear a picture of what I had gone through. They kept it clinical and neat, so to speak."

Lepard was silent. He frowned and thought for a moment. He had hated Damien as much as we all had hated Damien had captured him once, and tortured and experimented on me when keeping Lepard hostage. It had left him feeling weak, and he had gone to get help, but for me to get better, it had taken a pretty nasty recovery.

That had happened decades ago and Damien had been dead as long as, almost. But my past, Damien, shed sessions. They haunt me. Sometimes it feels like the rest of my existence, that I can't just shake them off.

He looked at me and said, " So someone had got hold of Damien's recordings, is that it?"

I nodded and said, "I can't order you, or I could, but I won't. I just hope you consider whether you tell Damon. This is a blast from that past and something that he does not need to know. I know that more than anything, he would like to see those tapes and that memory, torture himself, and maybe it might make him crash into pieces, almost. No need to traumatize him anymore. "

Lepard nodded, his deep voice resonating through the room. "I am sorry you have had to go through this, but I can help. Just say when, and I can remove all of that burden from you. There's so much of it, and it's suffocating. You didn't tell Mariella everything."

I nodded, my heart heavy with the weight of my secrets. "I told her what I could, in the best way I knew how. Without my protective shell, I felt vulnerable and scared. It was a difficult thing for me to do, and I almost gave in to the temptation of retreating back into my shell."

He murmured reassuringly, his warm breath tickling my ear. "I'm glad you didn't. You are strong, even without your shell, and we are here for you."

He held me close, his embrace offering me a sense of security. Eventually, he stood up, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He walked out of the room; the door closing softly behind him. I let him go and gazed up at the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh.

Why does the past have such a firm grip on us, on me? Why can't things be simpler and easier? Why can't we just let go and move forward? Why was I cursed with this painfully detailed photographic memory, capturing every sensation when I became supernatural?

I didn't understand the so-called grand plan the universe had for me at first. It seemed like I was destined to endure endless suffering, with the hope that the good times would eventually outweigh the bad. But those fleeting moments of happiness were so scarce and fleeting that it felt like they didn't exist at all.

I didn't know. It's important to reflect and try to understand, but sometimes I had to accept that I simply didn't have all the answers. It taught me about the limits and boundaries of my knowledge.

My existence was shaped by various reasons and prophecies that were written long before I was born, and each time I discovered one, it added another layer of pressure. I would try to decipher them, contemplate what I had already accomplished, and if there was more for me to do. Would I have to fight against someone new?

I had collected quite a few prophecies about myself, keeping them safely hidden away. Occasionally, I would revisit them, reading through the cryptic words, and attempting to unravel their meaning. But they remained elusive, another secret I held close. There was no need for Damon or Mariella to stumble upon my prophecies. Perhaps one day, I would share them with Mimosa, but not yet.

But then I decided to change the philosophy lecture in my head again to a slightly different tone and concentrate on the film at the moment. It was no use for me to try to understand. I would have no idea what was going to happen to me in the next ten years, or so. Or even longer time. And what I could do about it. Nothing, even I would get some idea about those damn scrolls. Could I change anything? Or nothing? So it was better to live in the moment and enjoy one minute at a time. Try to find those damn happy times and live by the power of them.