To Love A Sociopath

sunshine

Bonnie was panting, still trying to see what was in front of her. The small beautiful caramel child was broken, fractured, dead.

Kai was silent and you could tell he was trying to control his feelings. "I was right. She was a girl," his voice was splintered and darkness pooled in his pupils as they stared at the lifeless body.

Bonnie's eyes never left the dead baby's. She was rocking it in her arms, silently begging, ignoring the mess of blood, Cry, cry, cry. "I'm a little teapot short and stout, here is my handle, here is my spout, when I get all steamed up hear me shout, tip me over and pour me out. It's okay if you break me, it's okay if I cry, just as long as you put all my pieces back in time. I'm a little teapot short and stout..." It was the lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was little, it swayed Bonnie right to sleep. But in her mind, all she could hear was, You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. WAKE UP. She fell back with crippling tears, the reality leaving her lifeless. She couldn't see, feel, hear, smell, anything.

Except her. Aithne. Around her, Kai and Father Kieran were speaking to her, shaking her, trying to snap her back to her senses but her attention was pinned to the first witch of New Orleans.

"Why," was all Bonnie demanded. Why let me get attached for those nine months, why make me so happy and in love only to rip it out from the pit of my stomach?

"I'm sorry," Aithne whispered, eyes dropping with hefty guilt. "The pain will wash away with time. You're a Bennett, you always survive."

Bonnie's nose flared. "No." The people around her seemed concerned. "You don't get to be sorry. You don't get to stand there and tell me how to overcome the suffering you caused. I am not going to let you take this away from me."

Aithne swallowed. "There's nothing you nor I can do to change fate. I can only offer my deep condolences."

"GO AWAY," she screamed and Aithne's vision flickered and vanished. Bonnie turned her head to the side, hugging the dead child to her chest, her tears moisturizing its bloody face.

Bonnie didn't know when or how or why but she got up. She ignored everybody else and held her dead daughter to her chest, protecting her. And she went up to the Treme.

*

The Treme was specifically reserved for the witches, the ones that weren't involved in the whole massacre ordeal with the ancestors. They had their own unique and individual sacrificial magic that only included animals, not humans. Klaus didn't particularly consider them a part of New Orleans even though they were. But he knew that he shouldn't mess with a force that hadn't touch him first. Especially when he had so much to lose, someone to lose. So when Bonnie crossed onto their streets, skin bloody, eyes blistered and body aching, she stood there, waiting. It didn't take long for witches to step out, cornering her.

"A witch like you shouldn't be left here, vulnerable into our streets," one said.

"Where's your coven leader," she ordered. They didn't answer. "WHERE IS YOUR COVEN LEADER," she hollered, voice as might as Klaus himself.

Slow feet clopping emerged in the clearing. "Miss Bennett. It isn't polite to come to our streets, yelling bloody murderer." Her chest was heaving as she turned to him. He bowed. "Vincent Griffith."

Bonnie approached him, barefoot and all, and stated, "I need your help."

"You must have balls to think that we'll get involved with the Mikaelson's. After you robbed what was owed to the ancestors of the city, leaving them unsatisfied and even angrier at us for not intervening, we have vowed to remain un-involved with your crisises," he scoffed, shoving his hands down his pockets. "Now I don't know about you but my--our response is clear."