“Why are you here?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as he looked at me. He wore the same blank expression that he always had, devoid of life or emotion, but I could see the malice dancing in his eyes. He had never been to hide that from me. I knew where to look.

“I don’t need you anymore. I killed you for a reason. How are you here?”

Again, silence. He took two steps towards me, calm and collected. His movements as deliberete as the words he was about to choose.

“We both know you could never truly kill me. I’m a part of you. Or don’t you remember that there was a time when neither of us was sure which was the facade?”

My throat tightened, his words almost forming a noose as my stomach prepared to drop out from beneath me like the trapdoor on the gallows. I had been rid of him for so long. Why here? Why now?

“You owe me something, a great many something’s really. You’ve stolen so much time from me.”

“I didn’t steal a damn thing from you Damon! It wasn’t yours, it never had been. You had to go. You served your purpose, and were nothing but trouble by the time I decided to get rid of you. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore.”

He smiled at that, a thin line lacking any semblance of warmth played across his face. It was a rare sight, and not a comforting one.

“When have I ever been one to care about what others wanted, Louis?”

I didn’t bother to respond. The anxiety was beginning to fade now. The initial shock dissipating, and my heart returning to a normal rythm. It always ended this way when he came around.

I always tried to resist, but it was token effort at best. I never needed any real convincing. He was right, of course, whose to say which of us is the facade? When has what I want ever truly mattered? He’s never done wrong by me, only by those around me. I offer him a small nod. A moment of tangible submission, if but a small one.

It’s always easier when he’s in control.