Sometimes holding everything inside takes its toll and results in something truly disastrous. That was the case with Damon. 

All those past hundred years he kept every painful memory, every sad thought and every regretted moment to himself hiding his inner torn state from the world, making people hate him without even knowing it. And now all those buried secrets were suffocating enough to cause an explosion. 

He handled it, though. Like always he managed to handle it. It wasn't easy, but it was conceivable. 

Melanie was perched up on the kitchen counter finishing her ice cream. She would throw a stealthy glance at Damon now and then as if to see if he was okay. 

"I'm perfectly fine, Mel," he spoke all of a sudden catching her off guard as he shot her one of his classic smirks, "and if I were you, I would stick to the promise of forgetting about the past few days. Nothing happened." 

She nodded, "I know. I wasn't looking at you." 

His smirk widened, "and who exactly wouldn't like to look at me?" Seeing the annoyed look on her face he laughed, "just kidding. Did you really take that seriously? Come on you know I joke around a lot." 

She rolled her eyes, "yup, why don't you join a circus then?" 

He winked, "not a bad idea." 

That convinced her that he was perfectly fine and there was nothing to worry about. 

He perched up on the counter beside her and she asked, "hey don't you think you're too old for sitting at a counter?" 

He spoke, "even if I am still I made sure that it's strong. Don't worry it's not gonna collapse under me. And the funny point is, I don't weigh as much as to break it." 

She nodded and went back to eating her ice cream. "Hey give me that," Damon stole the spoon from her as he took three big spoonfuls, "not bad. Vanilla tastes better than strawberry, though." 

She asked, "can I ask you something?" 

He was taken by surprise at the sudden question. "Go ahead," he mumbled as he put another spoon of the dessert in his mouth. 

"Why don't you tell me everything? I mean what were you saying about those hundred years that night in the storm?" she asked taking pauses in between as if not sure of his reaction. 

He stopped eating and handed her back the spoon, "do you really want to talk about it?" 

She nodded, "I'm your best friend, right? I should know." 

He sighed, "okay. But I don't think you would understand anything. Perhaps when you grow up...?" 

She spoke, "well I'll tell you what to do. I won't keep any secrets from you and in return you won't keep any secrets from me. Deal?" 

Despite himself, a smirk etched up on his face, "Deal. Starting from you." 

She smiled, "even though it's not fair still... What do you want to know about me and my past life?" 

He thought for a while, "how did you get stuck with that psycho in the first place?" 

She laughed, "I don't know. I was born there. As far as I can remember I lived with her until I ran away." 

He nodded, "and is there anything else you hid from me about your life?" 

She nodded back, "a lot of things apparently. I told you how horrible it was there for me but what I didn't tell you about was my mother." 

His eyebrow shot up and he turned around to face her with a serious expression on his face, "but you said you knew nothing about your parents." 

She sighed, "I lied. And well I didn't know my parents to be sure. I just heard something about my father, and as to my mother she was just so weird. Whenever I was with her, she used to be very weird saying such difficult words such as something about August or a college or some research and would just start screaming without any reason or start weeping. I never knew what was wrong with her. Whenever she would be with me she would mostly keep staring right into my eyes. The only thing she ever said that I still remember was that she loved my eyes. She kept looking at my eyes as if she was reminded of something. She was tortured too by that Pierce woman but that's just a guess since it's way too obvious. I used to hear her screaming at nights but I was too small at that time. And once when I asked about her I was told that she's just crazy and doesn't know what she talks about. She died by the way." 

Damon spoke, "what happened after she died and what did you hear about your father?" 

She shook her head, "I used to have dreams about her after her death. As for my father, well, no one had much of a good opinion about him. As far as I know, that Pierce woman hated him and whenever she tortured me she used to say that she did that because of my father. Because she hated him." 

He spoke, "the dreams, tell me about those dreams." 

She resumed, "I used to see my mother in them and she would always wear the same white dress she had worn that day she died. She used to talk to me and she was the only one I knew who talked nicely about my father. She said he had saved her and was a good person deep inside.And once she told me why she so loved my eyes. Because they were exactly like my father's. Deep blue. Mostly she talked things I barely understood. She told me I simply had to run away from them. That night when I ran away finally it was because she had told me to. She used to say I would meet my father soon." 

Damon's brow knitted together as if in deep thought, "how did she look like?" 

She pressed her hands together, "she had hair like mine. Golden brown. And she was pretty. Her eyes were brown though. She didn't look like she was crazy. The last time I saw her in my dreams was the night I came here in that storm. She had said that every bad thing had gone away from my life forever because I was with you both. She said I had come at the right place to the right people. I don't know why she said that. She also mentioned my father but I don't remember what was she talking about." 

Something flickered in his eyes as if he had just hit upon an important point, "what was her name, Mel?" 

She looked up, "why are you so interested to find out?" 

He shrugged, "maybe I would have known her. Or else why would she say about us being the right people anyway?" 

She stared at him, "maybe. But I don't know her name." 

After an awkward pause she asked, "Damon, lets suppose you knew my mother, could you just guess who she could be among your acquaintances?" 

He frowned as if contemplating whether or not to tell her. Finally he replied, "well she could have been a friend. Your description fits her but that was so long ago and it could be a mistake. Frankly speaking, I wish your mother didn't know me and I really don't want her to be that person I'm thinking about." 

She nodded, "fine. Its your turn now. And don't keep any secrets, got it?" 

He laughed, "yes mom." 

But behind that laugh was another emotion he had managed to disguise; all the explanation about Melanie's mother had set his brain reeling. The words "she loved my eyes" were prying on his mind. Blue eyes so dreadfully like his own. 

He was roused when she snapped her fingers in front of him, "Damon, you know I hate it when you keep me waiting." 

He spoke, "okay then. My life story is not something that could possibly interest you but since you were so begging to hear it..." 

He left the sentence incomplete deliberately and gave her a full blown smirk. 

"Hey I was not so begging," she stuck out her tongue at him. 

"Well then here goes," he began telling her everything from the beginning to the end. Well he omitted some parts which were inappropriate but nevertheless recounted nearly everything. She listened spell bound. After he had finished he took in a deep breath and stared down at the ground. 

He spoke, "I guess I need to have a drink." 

She placed her hand on his knee stopping him, "wait you don't always have to get drunk all the time. There are a lot of other things you could do." 

He raised an eyebrow, "for example?" 

She hopped off the counter and brought another ice cream tub, "another helping couldn't do any harm possibly." And with that she hopped up again and handed him the spoon. 

He chuckled even though he had been feeling quite bad, "how can I keep up this depressed mean guy facade if you keep saying things like that?" 

She smiled, "I know you can't." 

He looked over at her and spoke in a low voice, "I don't know what I could possibly do without you." 

She shoved a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, "get yourself killed probably. But hey forget the bad things okay? They are not worth remembering." 

He nodded and rubbed a blob of ice cream on her nose, "definitely." 

She wiped it off, "this means war, Damon Salvatore." 

He laughed, "sure does. Anyhow do you remember when you were three and you called me Daynon Sawatore?" 

She grinned at him mischievously, "hey nice try changing the topic. But you are so not getting off easy. War means war."