𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 ━━ KLAUS MIKAELSON

7

THE RITUAL WAS going to happen tonight and the whole group were restless and Emery had never felt so useless.

Despite the fact that she was a witch, a very powerful one at that, she was unable to use her powers without increasing the speed of her death. She's a cursed witch. The curse was placed on her entire family. If she was to use her powers, she'd grow weak, the more she'd use it, the weaker she'd grow with a lot of bad effects until she finally dies.

The only way to break the curse was to sacrifice someone she deeply cared about and that was the last thing she'll ever do. She wasn't going to sacrifice one of her friends just so she could live. She'd be filled with guilt for the rest of her life, knowing that she was living just because she killed someone.

**

AFTER TAKING A WALK, she had returned to her house and decided to take a nap since she was feeling quite tired for absolutely no reason. As she was sleeping, she had a nightmare— she saw her parents again.

The scene was so vivid, almost as if it was real and she was there, going through it all over again. Emery saw herself, sitting on the ground crying as her mother took her last breath at the age of thirty. She was only ten back then. Her father went crazy, he wasn't ready to lose the love of his life. But who ever is? The man needed a way to cope.

So, he went down the path of alcohol and drugs. Ten year old Emery had to deal with him on a daily basis. He'd get aggressive, drunk and out of his mind. He'd abuse her, filled her body with scars that she could still see— there were there but faint. Everytime she'd look at them, she'd feel it all over again.

One day, Emery couldn't take it anymore. She was around and she snapped. She didn't mean to— it just happened. Her powers manifested, she used them on her father and ended up killing the man.

She regretted it. She was filled with guilt— it was her father. She thought that he didn't deserve it. He was just broken and it was his way to cope. She kept telling herself that he didn't deserve it but deep down, she knew he did. But that didn't stop the guilt. Regardless, she knew she stopped caring about the man a long time ago.

She hated herself for what she did. She called herself a murderer. She thought that she needed to pay for what she did thus the self–harm.

Jenna thought that her mother died to cancer while her dad was killed by some thief who was attempting to steal in their house but that was far from being the truth. Emery couldn't tell anyone about what she did, she thought they'd look at her differently.

Emery bit her lip as she stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were bloodshot red and there were traces of dried blood on her nose. She shook her head and let out a scoff at her appearance, calling herself pathetic a couple of hundred times in her head. She couldn't let her friends die. She had to do something.

After taking a shower and freshning up, she left her room and walked down the stairs. However, the second the stepped out of the house, a hand was clasped over her mouth and she was pinned to the wall. Her scream was muffled but when her eyes fell on the familiar blue-green ones, she relaxed for some reason.

Once he noticed that she visibly relaxed, he allowed his hand to fall to his sides but didn't back away from her body and kept her pressed to the wall. "What are you doing?"

"We need to talk," he replied, keeping his voice low which made her furrow her brows, "and why would I talk to you?"

He shot her an amused look, "well, you're doing it now, aren't you?"

"Because you have me against the wall," Emery answered, "I think I deserve to know the reason for this."

"We could talk about it inside." He suggested earning a huff from her as she softly pushed him away and fixed her shirt, "no, outside is good enough."

"You aren't going to invite me in?" He asked even though he already knew the answer. He had this mischievous glint in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed by the witch who let out a sarcastic chuckle, "you want me to invite you, a homicidal maniac in my house? Hard pass."

Klaus refrained himself from rolling his eyes, "I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Your friend, Damon screwed up," he ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, "and I told him that if he does, I'll kill you."

Emery bit her lip and raised her brows, "and?"

"What do you mean, and?" He was taken aback by her lack of care, "your friend practically signed your death away. All you have to say 'and'?"

"Aren't you supposed to be killing me or something?"

"I am," he pursed his lips in a thin line, "but you know what? You're much useful alive."

"Wait—" she frowned, "what do you mean?"

"You're a witch, right?" He grinned, wrapping his hand around her arm, "witches are always useful in a way or another. And after the tragic death of your witch friend, I can't have them use you against me too, now can I?"

She didn't bother fighting off his tight grip on her arm and allowed him to drag her away, knowing it was useless to try to fight him off anyway. "Where are you taking me?"

"I suppose you'll have to wait and find out for yourself."