𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 ℑ𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔰 x Klaus Mikaelson

Seventy

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"I wanted to punch him and understand him at the same time."

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    I WAS ONE-HUNDRED-SIXTY-FOUR years old. I had lived and breathed and raged. I had built and rebuilt all that was important to me. I had twisted and turned and melded myself into what all those around me yearned and wanted.

    I had become a shell of being. A fractured, twisted reality of both darkness and eternal joy.

    I had lived.

    And yet, I didn't think I'd ever been more confused than I was now. More conflicted.

    I knew I wanted revenge. Of that, I was certain. But when it came to everything else...it reminded me of a thunderstorm. Lightning constantly hitting the ground. So fast, my mind raced to see the flash of light. To hear the resounding boom.

    But every time I tried, a new blast of electricity slammed against the world. A new crack of thunder followed.

    My life was much the same. Problem after problem. Mental debate after mental debate. Choice after choice. Betrayal after betrayal.

    I had few constants in my life. Very few. But...Klaus was one of them.

    At least I could count on him being stupidly idiotic.

    At least I could count on him to do something to make every one else around him angry—beyond angry, actually. Furious.

    Maybe that was why I was not as mad as I should have been. Because I was reliant on the fact he would do something exactly like this. Expectant of it, in fact.

    I was frustrated, annoyed, irritated. But I wasn't mad...not as I should be.

    Not as he opened the door for me, and I stepped out of the bar. Not as the cool, night breeze licked up my spine and caressed my skin. As the magic in my blood sang a sweet melody in answer.

    I was part vampire. But even so, I still had that bond. That connection to nature only a witch could possess. A sudden awareness that whispered to the very marrow of my bones.

    I set my feet moving. My boots crunching against the hard gravel on the parking lot. My skin tinted red in the light of the neon sign plastered to the building.

    I walked, my mind a terrible tornado spinning and spinning with thought after thought, going so fast I could not catch them.

   I was spiraling.

   Why couldn't I be mad. I should be mad.