Dear Klaus,
You act as if you aren't to blame for my death and it was my fault for my tragedy, yet I feel my death worried you.
Maybe you feel haunted by me. Ironic for nothing haunts the original hybrid but the fear of abandonment. Loneliness caress your skin delicately sending shivers down your spine. It frightens you, It terrorizes you to the point you breed innocent werewolves who lives you soon destroy as you did to mine. Keep your kink to yourself.
I wonder if someone was to stake you with the bark of a pleasant white oak tree, would there be a heart there to pierce? I know you felt mine, I know you heard its soft last beats. I know it drove you insane because now you are a man, alone in his house with no family to care for you anymore, No lover to cherish or to hold—to be with for eternity.
How does it feel to be alone again Klaus?
Love, Ophelia
YOU ARE READING
sweet catharsis, klaus mikaelson.
Lãng mạnvengeance savored on her tongue and it never tasted oh so sweet. klaus mikaelson x fem! oc. BOOK ONE OF THE MUSE COLLECTION. © HOESOCIETY
