The Art Of Hiding Your Death

Chapter Nine: Where Do We Go From Here?

 Disclaimer: This is an Originals fan fiction and I do not own any the Originals/ TVD. This story though, and specific characters are my own. Any characters that are my own shall be specified, otherwise, I do not own them. 

6:42 AM

Mikaelson Mansion, New Orleans

I really have to stop lying in my bed and falling into the void. I mean, it probably isn't healthy for my mental state, right. But then again, what I endured for the past nineteen months probably isn't healthy, either.

I have possibly lost the most important friendship in my life to a man that I despise with every fiber of my being. Why does Michael want to hurt his family so much? What drives a man to cause his own blood so much pain? And why does the freakin' sunlight keep getting in my face?!

I roll over again in an effort to escape the first sunlight of the day and my deep, dark, depressing thoughts. I really cannot be left to my own thoughts. I snort, and roll out of bed, taking a hot shower and then dressing in a black crop top, neon blue skinny jeans and black platform pumps. I do my makeup as usual, but put on blue winged eyeliner in the same shade as my pants and black lipstick to match my outfit. Finally, when I am satisfied by the braided top knot my hair i in, do I step down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I pour myself a glass of chilled blood. Uncle Elijah looks at me curiously and gives me the, I'm about to do something you really won't like, face.

"What?" I ask tiredly, pouring myself a bowl of cereal.

"You need to go back to school, Hope." He says, and I frown.

"I've missed a year of school, Uncle Elijah, I don't think that I can go back now."

"In what year did Francis Bacon publish The Advancement Of Learning?" Karly says to me, peering over the book at me.

"1605." I respond effortlessly, and Karly smiles.

"Good job, Hope." I smile back. Karly is one of the people Mikael has arranged for me to see. She is a teacher from Oxford University that Mikael kidnapped and compelled to think that she actually lives here and is my teacher. Another innocent victim.

My training does not only consist of Mikael's teachings, but the instruction of much of the fine arts. And if I ever thought I was busy, that thought has been firmly put in its place by my life now. Every single hour is filled up with a different sort of lesson, from how to make a dark magic spell to the language of Cantonese.

Of course, I cannot tell Uncle Elijah that I am now more intelligent than my own professors, but bygones be bygones. Very irritating bygones. So I put on a disinterested face and raise my eyebrows.

"Yes you did, Hope, but you need to finish school. Now, I've arranged for you to restart today. And you'd better get going, or you'll be late." He finishes, and shoos me away. I grunt, and clean up my cereal and then walk up the stairs to fix up my backpack.

7:58 AM

NOLA High School

My heels (that I refused to change) click on the hallway, and though it is possibly my story, my reputation, my popularity, my body language, or my outfit, I think it is blent that causes the sea of students to part for me as I strut down the hallway, employing all of Madam Glasgow's rules about grace, posture, and how to look intimidating as hell.

The sea of students falls silent as i pass in front of them, and then when I pass them, behind me I can hear muttering. I turn on my superheating to listen to a few and am not surprised by what I hear,