Beauty of Darkness (Elijah Mikaelson)

Chapter 7

If you haven't taken the hint from my previous inner monologues, I tend to dwell on the past. Besides my horrible self-image using it to remind me of every embarrassing and horrible thing I had done, I can use it as an escape depending on the situation. As morbid as it sounds, focusing on parts of memories for as long as possible is the only way I stay sane; especially now.

Is it weird that the thought of a mysterious, handsome stranger was the happiest thought I had in weeks? Sure. But, hey, what about me is normal at this point? Eventually, though, as all things that bring me a glimmer of happiness do, the fascination my impromptu meeting with Elijah faded. It had to - I would never seen the man again, why would my feelings matter?

When I finally returned to my state of emotional neutrality, the week slowly droned-on. Busing tables, serving beer to drunk tourists - the usual. 

I am definitely not one to pry into the business of others, but I found it odd how Cami was still out of work. I originally associated with a stomach-bug, and returned to my usual worry about only myself. But, after two days turned to three, and three turned into five, I worried. Wasn't it suspicious that Elijah showed up, looking for Cami, hours after she "went home?" And if she was really sick and at home, wouldn't she pick up her phone? Cami was the one person in this town that actually made an effort to check on me, and darkness or not, I'll be damned if I don't make sure that Elijah didn't have something to do with this.

I watched enough true-crime documentaries alone on Saturday nights to know when someone seemed like a suspect. Elijah fit the bill - "looking" for his friend as an attempt to establish an alibi, charming attitude, etc. This sounded completely crazy, but I wasn't going to stop until I made sure that Cami was okay.

Elijah's profile wasn't bolstered after I started going around Bourbon Street, searching for anyone who could tell me who he was and how he knew Cami. In a hail-Mary attempt for any information, I stopped at a touristy witch shop not even a block away from Rosseau's. When I asked the woman behind the counter if she heard of Cami or a man named Elijah, I saw the blood in her face stop flowing. She turned white, quickly making up something that she had never met her or him. After obviously lying through her teeth, before I could even give her a thank you, she ran past me to the employee section of the store. 

Despite calling her bluff, I wasn't in the mood nor had the authority to press further. My shift was starting soon - maybe Cami would be there, and my emotions and skepticism had gotten the best of me. It wouldn't have been the first time. Sadly, this skepticism only got worse when I saw yet another sub for Cami behind the counter as I entered the bar. Before starting, I left one final voicemail to Cami's cell - asking her if she was okay or needed anything. I hated not knowing what had happened, and I hated myself for letting Elijah leave last night because of hopeless romanticism. 

As the clock finally struck midnight, I finally got sweet relief from the lingering smell of whiskey and rusty pipes that was permanently lingering throughout the bar. I gathered my things, and made one final check for any word from Cami. Nothing. I sighed, reaching for the door as I ran through every possible scenario of what was going on. Murder, kidnapping, you name it. Its morbid, but I felt better when I overthought things.

Stepping out into the fresh air was refreshing, but that air turned sour when I started walking towards the outskirts of the Quarter. I felt cold, heavy footsteps rushing behind me. I was not one to leave things to chance, so I quickly grabbed my keys to create makeshift brass-knuckles. My heart pounded faster and faster, and the footsteps only increased in speed. All I could think about was how I was going to die and/or get mugged for the $4.67 in tips I got from my shift. As stupid as this sounds, I turned around, armed with my makeshift weapon, to get a glimpse of my stalker. To my surprise, nothing. Nobody. 

Wow, so I was crazy. First Cami, now I think I'm being followed? I slouched to my knees, taking a deep breath and calming myself down. I looked up, ready to start walking, when I felt the pressure of a damp cloth against my mouth and the tight grip of someone around my waist. The last thing I remembered was the strong smell of chemicals, and slowly fading into pitch-black.