𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥.
~
In a world where control is everything, Evelyn is about to lose it all.
Plunged into a downward spiral, she discovers that her carefull...
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"You befriended a Mikaelson?!" Owen practically yells.
I cross my arms. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"You Mikaelsons are always a bad thing!" He exclaims, and I shrug, nodding in agreement.
"At least someone's smart." I mutter.
"Now, you wanna explain to me what happened?" Xander asks, turning to me with his arms crossed.
Since when is he my dad?
"I asked Hope about something from the past and I was tackled out of a window. Nothing really." I shrug.
"Nothing really? Are you insane?! You almost bled out on your way here because you couldn't heal around the glass that struck, not one, but three arteries!" He yells.
"It's not like I asked for it! She's the one who tackled me out of the bloody window!"
"You could've at least had someone help you instead of walking twenty minutes to my house!" He yells, and I walk away, a muscle working in my jaw. "Evelyn, stop!" He yells again, and I spin around in the street.
"You don't get to tell me anything! Sure, I almost bled out, but did I choose to go to them? Even though they were right there? No. I chose to go to you. I don't trust them! Yeah, they're my family, but I can't trust them. Hell, I don't even know who to trust anymore. I put trust in you, Xander. Don't make me regret it." I tell before I continue my walk down the sidewalk.
I disappear from their sight, making them think I went home. But really, I just go back to Xander's.
I fidget around, waiting for him to come back. I lay upside down on his chair in the living room, but I end up falling. I wander around, looking at pictures. I jump on his couch — without my shoes, of course. Who jumps on a couch with shoes on? — before laying down and staring up at the ceiling.
I huff and walk into his kitchen, opening his fridge.
Literally nothing. Except milk.
"The hell?" I mutter. I hear a noise and call out, "Finally you're back. You have absolutely nothing in your fridge." Expecting an answer, I'm surprised when he doesn't. A dart shoots at me, but I catch it and turn toward the living room where a male stands with a gun. "Who the hell are you?" I question, tilting my head in confusion.
"I have to kill you!" He shouts, pointing his gun at me.
"Says who?" I ask, crossing my arms.
"My boss." He mumbles.
"And who is your boss?" I query, taking a step forward.
"Why would I t-tell you that?" He stutters, and I smirk.
"Because if you don't, you won't be walking out of this building alive." I state calmly. His eyes widen a small fraction.
