The Art Of Hiding Your Death

Chapter Eleven: My Mental State Is Muddled

 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.

I am utterly conflicted but a also extremely clear.

I feel almost ashamed about my outburst last night. Correction, not outburst, full on meltdown. I have never lost it that bad before, not when I was captured by Mikael, not even when I killed My. Hallery and became a full blown tribrid.

Since waking up, I have spent time doing nothing but laying in my bed and contemplating everything that happened since my life became a lot more interesting than before, a.k.a, I was murdered.

One hot, humid night in Bolivia, I was lying in my bed with the sheets off, too uncomfortable to sleep. My body was exhausted from a full day of sword and gun training, and I was hungry from not being able to beat my previous time in assembling and stirpping a machine gun. Mikael made me take a potion that essentially renders me human in my strength, stamina, healing speed, etcetera, and I could feel it wearing off slowly, agonizingly, my skin stitching itself back together, slowly, slowly. It was a painful process, and the fact that the humidity and heat made the air like a sauna did not help. The cooling charm that I placed didn't help much either, but what did in that weather? It was on that night, that through my ragged breath and painful gasps that I had a painful revelation. Life was never going to be the same again. I had realized that I didn't want to change, and unleashing my hybrid side was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

But now, lying here while soft morning sunlight graces my face, the only thing not covered by blankets, I correct myself. Unleashing my whole self was either the best, or worst thing that ever happened to me. Because it did a number of things, both positive and negative, that never could have happened if I didn't turn. And that is what is so frustrating about me and Mikael's relationship. It was wholly voluntary on my part, but he did change me. He did succeed in making me stronger, making me a warrior, even if it involved months of pure torture. He finally succeeded in giving me a freedom from my family. Mikael's methods were completely unorthodox, but they yielded results.

The new, strong Hope that was born out of months in hell comes at a price though. Because for every weapon that I wield artfully and skillfully, there are bodies that are dropped as a result from it. For all of the mental manipulation that I perform, there are major psychological negatives that I experience daily. For all of the skills I have been trained in to avoid control by others, I will alway have no freedom and control over my own life because all of my actions are directed by my dictator. For the vast intelligence that I now possess, I will never be smarter than him. And though I am fearless towards my enemies, towards the world, I am not fearless towards my master. I am completely terrified. I now understand my father's mental trauma induced by the horrible childhood he faced. I understand my family's fear of their monster of a creator. I understand why my mother, although never experiencing the fear of having hima s a father, was always afraid of disciplining me too hard. They needn't worry though, I will never fear them. But though I understand now, what can I say? Nothing. That, along with all of the freedom over my life I once possessed, is gone. I am a puppet, and he is my master.

Because possibly the most important thing I realized during those months away was that every good thing comes at a price.

I hit the mat hard on my back and reel for a second from shock before rolling away to avoid the knife that landed where my neck was a second ago. He is expecting it however, and has another knife waiting for me. It hits me right through the heart and I let out a strangled gasp at the burning sensation it creates inside my heart from vervain.