Dot Gilbert had always been regarded as a ticking time bomb. Her short temper had gotten her into loads of trouble in life already, and now Klaus Mikaelson wants to strike a deal with her? A half-triggered werewolf? Mystic Falls is no picnic for the...
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TEARS AND TOOTHACHES
"So I ate myself, / bite by bite, / and the tears washed me, / wave after cowardly wave."
— Anne Sexton, "The Sickness Unto Death"
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Mystic Falls was supposed to be the quintessential small town. A dreamland.
Dorothea Gilbert had seen the nightmares that it held. She believed she had become one too.
She doesn't know when it started. The rage. The anger. The numerous therapists had suggested some form of childhood trauma, something to trigger her reckless hatred. Some suggested medications to counter whatever illness they thought fucked with her head. They were all convinced she was a ticking time bomb, Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
It made sense, the anger that seemed to come out in dangerous bursts, uncaring of who she lashed out at or when. Her family seems to accept it the best they could, helping with her outbursts and mismanagement of emotions. She saw it though, their fear, hesitation, distrust. Her parents, untrusting of their miracle child, the oldest daughter that took the couple through many fertility clinics before achieving success. Her sister, hesitant to come within a five foot radius of the sister she had valued since she was born. And her brother, the betrayal that stung the most, feared her mere existence.
And then... the monster was born.
With every full moon, it seemed that the humanity and hope within Dot Gilbert was slipping away. She suffered under the moon's gaze, for her first 'kill' had been incomplete but just enough to trigger the curse that had boiled under her veins for 18 years. Apparently, snapping a vampire's neck is good enough, but not really for werewolf lore. So, she plotted and planned, stalked his every move, and then he waltzed into her home and cooked an Italian dinner to woo her little sister.
