Of Monsters and Men ₰ The Originals

Chapter Thirty Four | Truth to the Slaughter

This book is based and inspired by the Originals, with a tinge of the Vampire Diaries. I suggest that you watch the shows to understand some occurrences.

All rights go to The Originals television show on the CW, and Lisa Jane Smith (the author), except the characters and events that are purely of my imagination. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, OR ELSE YOU'LL BE REPORTED.

I JUST WANT TO SAY THAT IF ANYONE IS COPYING SECTIONS FROM THIS BOOK THAT ARE OF MY INVENTION, PLEASE TAKE ACTION.

(EDITED)

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The song of the chapter is: I Of The Storm by Of Monsters and Men

I am a stranger,

I am an alien,

Inside a structure.

Are you really going to love me 

When I'm gone?

With all my thoughts

And all my faults

I feel it biting

I feel it break my skin

So uninviting.

Are you really going to need me

When I'm gone?

I fear you won't. 

I fear you don't.

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          CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR ― TRUTH TO THE SLAUGHTER

      FIRE. FIRE ON MY body, eating at the tender surface of my skin.

     An explosion roars like the bloody Kraken behind us, making my spine arch painfully, the extensive energy sending me thumping to the mossy ground.

     Vaguely, I hear Hayley yelp and I think I croak out a worried "are you okay?", but the roaring in my ears drown my voice and her possible reply out. My throat is so dry that the Sahara desert could have taken residence in it. Also, if it was possible that blisters could grow internally, then I could feel them pressing against both my trachea and oesophagus like disgusting, pulsing pimples. My lungs can't seem to pump out or receive any oxygen and I'm crying and vomiting and whimpering and I have no idea what's up or down ― I can't move, I can't speak, I can't feel anything but pain. I forget my name.

     My skin is on fire, and it's festering through, reaching my bones and turning them black, peeling and pulling against my raw skin. If one single colour could describe the torment I am in, it would be red.

     Something cool and metallic is dropped on my broken lips and I lick it. Blood. My eyes immediately splat open seeing red and through a thick, murky haze, I can hear the swimming, sweet rush of fresh, healthy blood. "Melissa?" Someone says, but it doesn't register as words or instructions in my frontal lobe. "Are you okay?"