Secrets Never to Be Revealed

CAROLINE FORBES was in danger. That was the only thought running through Florence Allen's mind as she frantically searched for her dear friend, getting stressed when her efforts remained futile. Ryan tried his best to reassure her (although, it sounded as if he was trying to make himself feel relieved), but he gave up once he realized just how close Florence was with the girl. She would do anything for Caroline, and Ryan admired her for it. Her blood boiled as she thought of the possibility of Damon Salvatore laying another hand on Caroline, and that became her motivation.

Ryan noticed her getting even more frustrated and engulfed her in a tight hug, letting her rest her head on his chest. He soothed her, and she was thankful to have someone in her life that would go to great lengths just to have her be happy. She took it for granted most of the time and so, she was about to thank him, but her eyes betrayed her and drifted off to the side. She gasped when she saw who was standing in the distance and dragged Ryan by the hand. He followed her to the empty space behind the Lockwood mansion and watched as she ran to Caroline, a soft smile on his face.

Elena followed after the two and questioned Ryan on the whereabouts of her friend, seeming a bit less worried than Florence was. He pointed to where Florence and Caroline were speaking and she gave him a grateful pat on the arm, jogging to catch up with the two. She was shocked when she saw the disheveled state of her friend, and then asked her a question no one truly knew the answer to.

"Are you okay?"

Those three words ticked Caroline off and she began to wheeze, her chest feeling heavy. Florence began to cry silently; she was in immense emotional pain when she saw just how hurt her friend was. She was the first to hug her, and she tried to stay strong for her as she held her broken heart in her hands. Elena rested her hand on Caroline's shoulder, resting her head on the hand she'd previously placed as she let a few worried tears slip from her eyes.

Neither girl could bear to see someone they loved in pain; and perhaps that was the reason why they were both unable to touch the heart of the misunderstood Jeremy Gilbert.

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FLORENCE WAS so damn tired. She laid in her bed late that night, finally at rest after her eventful evening. Not only was she feeling especially guilty, but she was feeling slightly resentful at the fact that people like Damon were out roaming the streets of cities like Mystic Falls. Why couldn't Florence be granted with a simple way to deal with her problems? She groaned, leaning her head against the headboard of her bed.

She glanced to the side, catching sight of an old picture frame. In it was an image of her and the Gilbert family, before Miranda and Grayson had passed. Elena had looked so . . . happy. It made Florence feel an inkling of guilt as she came to a realization that all Elena Gilbert was trying to do was get her life back. Being a teenage girl who'd often have to fend for herself, Florence partially knew how she felt. Sure, she didn't have a younger sibling to take care of, but she did have an older sister who acted like a six-year-old.

Jeremy was with them in the picture, his arms wrapped around his mother's body. She felt a smile form on her lips, but it was stripped away and replaced with a frown as soon as her mind went back to her short conversation with the boy. She was doing everything for Elena and nothing for herself. Where was her happy ending? Sure, Elena deserved hers, but couldn't she sacrifice one thing for her friend? Florence loved her best friend, however, and she supposed whatever she had with Jeremy was a, well, fling.

Still, she was fawning over Elena's b-

She hadn't noticed that she had fallen asleep until her phone dinged, indicating she'd gotten a text. Her fingers went to rub her eyes out of exhaustion when she saw that they were somewhat covered in ink. She furrowed her eyebrows and dropped her hand to her lap, then realizing that there was a pile of papers under her hand. Her eyes widened when she saw the mess in her room. There were papers and papers and papers, all scattered around her bed in disarray.

She lifted one of the papers to meet her eyes, noticing how every one of them on both the floor and her bed consisted of the same two words-a name. Not just any name, however; this was a name she had heard before. But who said it? Her mind spun with not only the possibilities of who this person could be, but with how she had written these words over and over again in her sleep. Besides that, there was one thing that caught her eye: a picture of . . . Elena? Why was she drawing pictures of her best friend?

Whatever the answer was, she supposed it all resided in whoever owned the name scrawled across her papers elegantly: Katherine Pierce.