I AM WILONA EVANS

Wilona's P.O.V.

Space. I'd asked for space and that's exactly what I got.

I hadn't spoken to Damon for almost two weeks now and every day which passed by only drove the seed of regret deeper to cast out the fledgling of doubt that'd put me in this position in the first place.

The regret didn't come from asking for time apart, I didn't regret that because I'd needed it. It'd given me the room to see that I was too careless with Damon, too reckless with my emotions whenever he entered the equation. My precautions were put to bed with him which was both a thrilling and dangerous way of living, but in the end, I had too many scars to add another one to the collection.

The contrition, in fact, came with the clarity that allowed me to see that I had handled the situation poorly. It raked at my conscious to know that I completely disregarded Damon's feelings on the case, barely letting him get a few words out before I'd shut the door in his face through my desperation to protect myself.

With time, my alarm bells to grew quiet allowing realization the chance to seep in to completely grasp the state I'd left him in by pushing him away. Something was going on with his family and I pushed him away when he needed me because, at that moment, I needed me and that had to come first.

Didn't it?

It confused me, trying to decide between allowing myself to feel remorse for protecting myself over someone I barely knew, but who I was growing to need at a faster rate than I thought imaginable.

I needed to talk to Damon.

I knew that I wanted that... yet I hadn't. It was quite simple that talking would clear the stagnant air that had been left between us, a distance I created. And it wasn't as if it'd be hard to talk to him, he was across the hall, not even two steps away. I still heard him going in and out of his apartment every now and again, so it wasn't like he wasn't there.

I needed, wanted, to talk to him once more and hear his voice caressing my ears as they'd done so frequently only a few weeks ago when we were living our own personal fantasy. He'd coiled his way around my heart and set up camp in my life, his absence blaring too loud to pretend any differently. Yet I couldn't imagine us going back to that blissful state which seemed to be blanketed by ignorance with the harsh reality that greeted me without Damon at my back.

All of these worries excluding the probability that Damon's feelings or thoughts had altered during our time apart, I'd pushed him away. I couldn't blame him if the time apart gave him the clarity to move in a different direction, to someone who wasn't trapped behind razor wires that pricked him every time he tried to reach me. I couldn't blame him, but I still begged everything that would listen that he hadn't, hoped he'd still want me the way I wanted him.

I was such a selfish person.

I sigh tiredly as I walk with Sassy who was pulling at her leash, trouting lightly as she led the way home after yet another uneventful day of work. Like much of time at home, at work, I simply went through the motions, doing the tasks I needed to with a mind a million miles away.

My mind always drifted to Damon, whether I liked it or not. It either graced me with memories of our evenings together which always left me feeling emptier than when the day started, or I'd be thinking of how I could bring us back together. Nothing seeming right, not with the way I left things.

There were parts of me which wanted to beg Damon for forgiveness, but others that rebuked that thought knowing that I'd have regretted not pulling back some if I hadn't. I didn't know what to think or to even say if I came face-to-face with him, the only thing I was certain of was that I just wanted to be in his arms again.

The space, though helpful in its own right, only led to the expanse of darkness which inhabited my life to encompass me further.

Entering the lobby of my complex, I head straight for my mailbox. Sassy waits patiently as I unlock the small box and pull out all the mail I let pile up too often. It was wasted paper seeing as I couldn't see much of the written task, and any and all important mail came electronically where I could enlargen in to accommodate my vision. Yet, printed copies always found their way to my doorstep.

I pause when my fingers trail across a large, brown envelop that was light as a pen. I let my fingers squeeze gently at the corners of it to try and guess what was inside, my sense of touch providing me with an image of a vinyl record in my mind.

My frown only deepens at this, confusion stemming in my mind at what felt to be and only could be, a record in my hand. I hadn't ordered any new ones recently and Blue always gave me any he wanted to in the store on my way out, I play with the envelope in my hands as I look around. Perhaps I'd missed a shipment or it was one that came late, but that was unlikely.

Locking back the small casing, I go to the receptionist who looks up at me with an expression I couldn't read and judging7 by her posturing, one I didn't want to even if I could.

"I think I got someone else's mail," I say handing over the envelope. "Can you just tell me the name on the package?"

"Wilona Evans." She reads out holding the package loosely in her grasps before looking back to me. "Are you not Wilona Evans?"