"This is Belle Gilbert. And that is Daria Mikaelson.""
"I'm confused."
"They're the same person. Belle doesn't know she's Daria. She doesn't know she's the most powerful thing in the world."
...
Three Months after Jenna Sommers died and Stefan Salva...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Monday, March 10th, 2042.
I immerse myself in the morning air of Monday morning, the sun is glisteningly shining down onto my skin as Robert has drawn back the curtains, I can hear him cooking away in the kitchen, he is making salmon and eggs, as he has sworn me on Friday night when he started staying over this week. I feel the sunbeams soaking into my skin, the smell of the eggs fills up my nostrils as I jump out of the bed.
Tenderly and precisely, I place my hair into a bun and spring to life into the bathroom, turning on the shower, capturing my toothbrush and washing myself down in the shower, today is my significant day. This is the third instalment in the series and I am making good money from this.
When I was a kid, my mother detested me for liking writing. For loving the books, most of the girls in my year were in ballet, or dancing, or some of them were heading to theatre camp, and little me would want to lock herself up in her bedroom and read another one of Shakespeare's novels. My mother despised the fact I didn't like most of the girls in my year, because, well in all honesty, I knew why my mother hated me, because I was nothing like my sister. Who was one of the most popular girls in her year, I was simply just okay with being one of the outsiders.
By the time I have strode out of the shower, placing a robe around my hair and my body, my phone has called nine times. Marshall wants to call me, my arrogantly annoyance of a boss. I'm currently utilizing my day cream onto my face when he calls, still in my towel when I pick up the phone, placing it to my ear and flossing in front of the mirror.
