Beauty of Darkness (Elijah Mikaelson)

Chapter 12

I had always imagined dying as a peaceful thing. I never feared it, but I never craved it. Even in my darkest hours. I always thought I would end up being shoved in a nursing home by whatever family I had left, and peacefully passing on from a dirty arm chair in my sleep.

Seeing Elijah's henchman made those plans that were once so concrete seem like an impossibility. It's insane how in one moment, everything you believed in and held onto could be taken. Every dream. Every wish. Every goal. Gone. No chance for explanation, no chance for rebuttal. It's just gone.

That hope for peace at the end was the only thing I had left.

That thought must've awoken something inside me. With my body aching, and my mind slowly realizing I wasn't done yet, I started to wake up. My eyes fluttered, and my bones cracked. Every pain only made me want to get up more. It made me want to fight.

As each section of my body began to awaken, I started to assess my surroundings. The hard, concrete ground definitely didn't help the pain. With blurred vision, I saw a ceiling at least three stories high.  A painful turn allowed me to see that I was in some sort of courtyard, adorned with ornate furniture, a flowing fountain, and a second-level balcony. Was I being held hostage or given a free stay at the Embassy Suites?

I realized that the more I laid around like injured prey, the faster Elijah and his band of henchmen would pounce. I needed to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere that could serve as a vantage point.

After getting my sh*t rocked by a middle-aged priest, every attempt to regain my balance felt like I was getting stabbed. I am no medical professional, but I knew I had at least three broken bones.

I eventually slumped to the ground, unable to find any way to stand - let alone walk. I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how I had even made it to this point. How did the man in the church knock me out? How did he secretly carry me here without being seen? Did Kieran really do this much damage, or did Elijah somehow jump me when I was knocked out?

It didn't even matter. This was the end. The mafia can make you unidentifiable. Invisible. They'll dump me in the Mississippi River, or God-knows where else. I'll never be found, and even if I was, I'll be a Jane Doe. Sitting in a morgue until they find me an unmarked grave. The thought made my stomach churn. Even though I shut everyone I loved out, the realization that I will forever be an unknown felt unacceptable.

I knew what I had to do.

Fighting against every instinct and ignoring every call from the darkness to lay down and accept my fate, I tried to rise once again. I silently screamed as every motion to stand felt like a new bone breaking. I began to push off the floor. Another crack. My legs began to straighten. Another excruciating internal scream.

Somehow, I made it to my feet. The idea of walking seemed like an impossibility. Mentally forcing myself to step my first foot towards the door was like re-teaching myself to walk as a baby. Slowly but surely, I took one step after another. Left foot. Another perimeter sweep. Right foot. Another wave of pain. I had to grasp my mouth while I silently screeched in pain. I had to keep going. I had to try to escape.

Left foot. Right foot.

I couldn't believe that this was working. Hope began to build inside me. The large metal door of the courtyard became closer and closer. Was I really going to make it? Was I really going to get lucky yet again?

Left foot. Right foot.

I made it. The doorknobs felt like golden tickets to the pearly gates. I slowly began to pull...cautiously creaking the ancient door open to the light of the Quarter. I had always hated the sun - but I loved it now. As I opened the door, and was about to slink my way to freedom, the sign of Rousseau's greeted me.

Cami.

Cami was still here. Cami had been here for much longer than me. If they had managed to do this much damage to me in such a short time, I couldn't imagine what torture they were doing to her.

Freedom was right in front of me. I could leave this mansion of torture and secrets and forget this ever happened. I could take Kieran's advice - I could live my life and let Elijah play his games in the Quarter. I could forget Cami.

I internally pinched myself and let the light of freedom slowly sink from my view. I would leave with Cami or not leave at all.

As I began to turn away and craft another plan, I heard it. The gust from the church.

F*ck.

Before I could even fully turn, I saw him. The air left my chest and my heart tightened. Wearing a beautiful suit worth more than my life's savings, Elijah stood before me. He still had the posture and confidence of an ancient-Greek statue. His eyes followed my every twitch instantaneously and I began to quiver on my weakened legs. His glare and grin was similar to that of the man from the church.

My luck had run out.

I began to scream, calling for anyone to save me. As quickly as I began, Elijah's ice-cold hands silenced me. His grip was so strong that my lips almost sealed at their touch.

Slowly, his other hand began to form a point that he brought over his lips. He quickly transferred that hand to my shoulder, placing me in his iron grip.

I didn't know why, but, somehow, I felt relieved. I felt safe. I felt..protected. For one moment, I felt safe.

Quickly realizing that I was in a life or death situation, I fought with my remaining strength to free myself from Elijah's grasp. There was no time for self reflection. Even before getting injured, I couldn't even do a pull-up in P.E. Let alone fight-off a magical crime boss.

His grip strengthened, and without flexing a muscle, he pulled me closer. He analyzed me as if I was an art project. Those deep, mysterious eyes darted around my body and he began to whisper in my ear.

"What makes you so special?"

Uhm..what? How the hell was I special? The time traveling, monster-mafia man thought I was special enough to be KIDNAPPED?

"You can travel through time and kidnap women for fun, and you think I'M special?" I quickly and angrily snapped back as he continued to analyze me.

I heard him chuckle, mocking my state of weakness.

Switching to near-animal instincts, I bit the hand that rested on my soldier in an attempt to escape. Do I know why I thought that would work? Nope. Did I still do it, and did it make any difference in the strength of Elijah's grip? Of course not.

His chuckle only grew in magnitude as my apparently futile attempt to free myself was weak enough to be comical. Even if this man was insanely strong, which he is by the way, wouldn't a bite have warranted at least a flinch? Is he magic AND invincible?

"Wynter, let's stop with the games." He commanded as his grip grew even tighter.

Our bodies became closer, and my thoughts were almost blinded by the scent that radiated off of him. It invited me in. On a chemical level, even as he held his life in my hands, I only wanted to go closer.

In a whisper, he mumbled "I promise that I will explain."

And the world went black once again.