Consumed » Kai Parker | Rewritten

Two

It wasn't the natural coaxing of morning sunlight that woke me from a miserable slumber.

No, that was a luxury reserved for a world that wasn't crafted for the purpose of locking the ever-so-unhinged Kai Parker away from polite society. But still, I'd hoped to be able to bask in delusion for a little bit longer–tell myself it was all a cruel dream and I'd fallen asleep on Stefan's bed in the real world, not a hollow replica of it in a soulless prison.

Kai had no time for luxuries.

He'd pushed open the door and strolled in, already fully dressed in black cargo pants and a crimson shirt. "Wakey wakey. Whew, it's dark in here. Like you're in mourning, or something. But, Charlotte, what–" He throws open the curtains and I threw a hand up to block the piercing light, groaning. "Do you have to mourn? It's a good day. In fact, we're celebrating."

"Go celebrate downstairs," I mumble, turning my face into the pillow. "Quietly. In the basement. Actually, just lock yourself in the wine cellar. And let me sleep."

"Sleep? But it's a momentous occasion. The beginning of the end. My last days in this hellish loop of May 10, 1994, coming to their grand finale. And I finally have some company to boot. I mean, sure, there was Bonnie and Damon, but all they did was bicker. I didn't know it was possible to come up with such creative death threats over a game of Monopoly, but those two enlightened me..." He trails off wistfully. "Maybe I will sorta miss them. Should I pay them a visit when we get back?"

We? The astounding nerve of this presumptuous asshole.

"Please do," I reply, too exhausted to launch into a tirade of why he will never see them again. "You'll be a good target for Damon. Been waiting for him to find something productive to do with his temper."

"You're funny." His tone is light, like he really does find humor in my hostility. "That's good. That you're the funny friend, I mean."

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to ask what the hell that's even supposed to mean. But of course, I don't need to. He then elaborates purely for the sake of hearing his own voice.

"Means you've got a clear-cut purpose in that group of yours, right?" He utters casually and I sit up straight, silently staring daggers at him. Any mention of my friends in his mocking tone was enough to infuse me with rigid tension. "Means you've got something to offer, even though you're a human with about as much utility as a doorknob. They'll miss the jokes, the little wisecracks, and think to themselves, hey, maybe we should bother breaking her out of that prison we left her in."

"You're a jerk," I mutter, tossing the blanket off angrily and ungracefully stepping down from Stefan's bed. "They didn't leave me here. The Ascendant had been activated, there was nothing Liv could do–"

"Or maybe getting as far as possible from her psycho older brother took priority over making sure he doesn't hurt her dearest friend."

"Do you have to start the mind games at..." I blanched when I caught sight of the digital clock on the nightstand. "At eight in the morning?"

"Best to get them out of the way before breakfast," he chirped, heading for the doorway. "Speaking of, I'm making scrambled eggs and toast. I would've liked to be a little more grand for our first morning together, but we're kinda low on groceries. We'll make a trip together later this week, cool?"

"No, we're not going anywhere togeth–"

"See you downstairs!" He called over his shoulder, then disappeared down the hallway.