Several days have passed since that dreaded night at the hospital.  Vanity’s memories of that night kept flashing back often.  How was Cassie able to subconsciously plant her memories into her like she did, normally only one of them could exist at a time, with no recollection of each other’s present state.  Cassie now seemed to be the more predominate of the two.  Something Vanity had feared since opening her letter.

 

In her own way, Cassie was making Vanity relive that night, and the nights leading up to the attack.  The persona of Vanity stemmed from hatred; from the things she could not control and the embarrassment she would have to face from her failure as a Hurst.  Something she could not endure.  Her random act of persuasion leads Vanity to be disgruntled and often unaware of when it happens.  Certain things throughout the day and even into the night, trigger these events.  Cassie’s letter explained why it had to be done this way and why Vanity needed to be the sole person to tell her story.  It all started with the punch to the wall.

 

It was the one thing Vanity did not want to relive, but she knew she had to.  Cassie’s visions were on repeat as there was something she needed to see. The most recent of them was the hole in the wall.  Cassie’s visions lead Vanity back to the mirror and to the hole in the drywall. 

 

“Ok, I’m here; what is it you need me to see Cassie?”

 

Vanity gazed at herself in the mirror, but her reflection was the only present one.    She looks harder, trying to break Cassie out of the shell; nothing.

 

As she continues to stare, she looks to the blood-stained drywall; there was no hole. A dark metal object was nestled between two boards that seemed to be built into the wall.  She began to peel away the broken pieces to reveal a tiny safe.  It was a combination safe, no keyhole.  Something in that box was hidden for a reason, so why did Cassie want her to find it.  She tried every possible number combination she could think of, and nothing opened the safe. 

 

“Help me out Cas, if you want me to open it.”  Vanity whispered.

 

She began to brainstorm, looking over at the counter where Cassie’s letter would lie.  She walks over and begins to search for answers.

 

Nothing made sense in her letter before.  However, the recent events at the hospital would slowly begin to reveal themselves.  One part now stood out and had become quite clear.  The name Damon Mikaelson.

 

“That’s the guy from the hospital.”  Vanity kept reading on.

 

It was becoming clearer now, everything he was saying, started to make sense.  She kept reading on, the numbers 64-21-137 were written and circled in red numerous times within the letter.  There were also numbers listed as if it were a phone number.  Out beside those numbers Cassie had written, “Damon needs to know.”  but needed to know what? 

 

Vanity took the letter, and walked over to the safe, perhaps the combination was in fact the numbers inside this letter. 

 

“Alright Cas, what are you hiding?” 

 

Vanity tries the numbers, 64-21-137.  It clicked.  She pulled down the small handle and began to pull open the door.  The contents inside were that of a large envelope, a picture of Cassie and Damon together in an embrace, a small Ziplock bag with a smaller white envelope inside and a letter addressed to Damon.

 

Vanity retrieves the contents and places them on the counter staring at each piece.  Her first instinct was to call Colton, he could probably make sense out of everything, but something in the pit of her stomach was telling her not to.  She begins to scroll through Cassie’s phone; there was no Damon listed in her contacts.  How was she supposed to contact him without a number?  She goes back to the letter, dials the number that was written inside.

 

“This has to be it.”  She dials the number, and the name Superhero appears from the contact list.

 

“Clever girl.” Vanity smiles.  She begins to think to herself, how was she going to act when she called.  Should she pretend to be Cassie, or would she reappear?  What was it Cassie was wanting her to do.  She sighed and sat down on the sofa.

 

“I’m too sober for this.”  She stands back to her feet, going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from inside the refrigerator and heads back to the couch. 

 

“Here goes nothing.”  She picks up the cell phone once again and dials the number.

 

“Cassie?”  The call merely took a second ring before the voice on the other end answered.

 

Vanity sat quietly for a moment.

 

“Cassie, is that you?  Baby, talk to me.”  Damon’s voice was soft, yet very intimidating with his mild Italian accent.  Vanity inhaled deeply and with her response spoke.

 

“Damon.”  Was all she could mutter out.

 

“Yes, Cassie. It’s me, are you alright?”  His voice quickly elevated as if it had been just what he had been waiting to hear.

 

“We need to talk; can you meet me at my place? 7500 Callaghan road.”

 

“304?”  Damon asked.

 

“You know?”  Vanity asked in return.

 

“Yes, of course.”  He laughed. “That was the building we were looking at together, don't you remember?  Though I must ask, with your brother going wild, wild, west on me the other night, do you think it’s wise for me to come over, I don’t feel like having another run in with him.  Things could go awfully wrong for him the next time.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about Colton, I can handle him, should that happen.”  Vanity said, unsure of the fact that she could, if any member of the family should happen to stop by.

 

“Ok, if you say so.  When is good for you, I’m not far away, would you like for me to stop by now?”  Little did Vanity know, Damon was just around the corner.

 

“Ya, that’s fine, come on.”  Before Damon could get another word in, Vanity quickly hangs up.

 

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing Cas, I don’t think I can play this game with your man.”

 

Five minutes have passed and there is a voice calling over the intercom. 

 

“Cas, it’s Damon.  I’m downstairs.” Vanity slowly walks to the buzzer, pressing it to allow the front gate to open.  It was well past midnight; She takes a deep breath and exhales with force.

 

“It’s showtime.”