Golden Eyes

E I G H T E E N

They say college is the time to grow into yourself. It's the best experience of your life.

I called bullshit the moment I stepped on campus.

Now I can chalk it up to me having no adult supervision at 16. I let this new world influence me. I met new people outside of my small town. They were older and all I wanted to do was fit in. And I ruined myself to do it.

My teen years in New York could be summarized with a name: Prodgy. My classmates referred to me as such. I was a partier who drank and smoked all night and woke up to sing like a canary in class. Nobody understood how I did it. That nickname was connected to a part of myself I desperately wanted to leave behind. The person I found on that campus was numb, using substances to fill voids. I loved every second of it. The thrill of singing on stage, the excitement of the crowd all with a booster in my system that didn't let me sleep for days.

Working at Livewire fueled my hunger for that rush. It was my job to entertain and I could do it high as a kite. I lived the attention. I loved letting the crowd here me sing and then reciting the songs back.

But something always pulls you back to reality. There's a moment before your senses shut out and you feel everything you buried. It's overwhelming, like an ocean current pulling you down. And when I felt it I would roll up and smoke it away.

What I felt now was a different numb. There was no sea of emotions waiting for me at the end. The world felt quiet. Normally there was nothing but chatter in my head. Even with the control I had before I turned, I still heard peoples thoughts. It was a feathery buzz in the back of my head.

My mind was quiet, feeling like an empty room. The white walls were once filled with the vivid colors of my feelings.

It's been two weeks since Kol's death. Maybe three. I'm not sure. It's been a haze of blood, sex, and weed. Every morning I wake up to a new woman next to me which starts to unnecessary argument when I tell her to leave.

"Good morning sweetheart." Brown eyes peered down at me. Her skin dark with fang marks all over. I almost felt guilty for not healing her. She quickly pecked my lips and I felt my fingertips tingle.

"You're a witch?" I asked as I sat up.

She giggled as she fastened the clasp on her bra, "I'm an Enchanter. We talked about this last night."

"I can't remember anything from last night," I grumbled tiredly. "What time is it?"

"It's eleven. You wanted me to wake you up so you could get more books," she answered with a worried glance. "Are you alright?"

"My head hurts," I answered honestly, "what did we do last night?"

"I taught you how to make weed and you hit it a little too hard. I warned you since it's basically your magic it would be way stronger than what's grown from the earth. That probably why you can't remember anything," when she finished she was dressed in one of my tank tops and my sweatpants.

"And why do you have my stuff on?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrow.

She giggled again, "my clothes are still in the dryer. You got them wet last night."

"Lovely," I muttered, "I'm gonna have a shower. Hopefully you and your clothes are gone when I'm done."

Her face fell, "you don't mean that."

I brushed passed her and shut the bathroom door. My shower wasn't long and when I got out she was gone.

I spent my days buried in journals of the past Enchanters. A new found curiosity burst when I step foot in New Orleans. The city seemed to bleed magic although there was some stupid rule for witches. I don't let men dictate my life especially when it comes to my power.