For Her | The New Hayley Marshall

Pilot

Hi everyone, welcome to my new story.
I hope you enjoy it.
Currently, this is just a preview. I will post a new chapter every Friday until the fifth. If you like it, I will continue editing it; otherwise, I will keep it for myself. So, let me know what you think. Your opinion is important.
For those who also follow my other story, Dear Katherine Pierce, I am sorry for the long absence; I hope to resume publishing soon.
Unlike the one where each chapter contained between 10000 and 30000 words, we will settle around 4000-6000 here. It will be faster and less in-depth writing, but I have realized that when I try too hard, I can't make my schedule work and get stuck, losing inspiration. English is not my first language, and I don't have a beta, so feel free to correct me! Enjoy the chapter, and let me know your thoughts – criticisms, suggestions, and ideas on how you imagine the story could continue: all are welcome. Happy reading! See you next Friday (or sooner, just this once).

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Setting:

4x16 TVD – 4x17 TVD

Pilot:
For Her

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"For twenty years, I lived in a world where magic was unreal, relegated to television shows and fantasy books.
And for twenty years, I cultivated my passion for it, hiding it from the world and casting myself as the perfect Christian daughter.
I was happy like that, balancing my two personalities as best I could. Then, the necklace my biological mother had left me broke, and with it, my old world. Suddenly, the magic I had observed as a spectator became a part of me.
I had never had a mania for protagonism. I was the girl in the back row who never raised her hand and remained silent during the controversy.
Until her.
Now, hiding is no longer an option.
I was someone else, but that doesn't matter anymore.
I am Hayley Marshall. I'm a werewolf. And this is my story."

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Diane wasn't sure exactly when everything had gone wrong in her life.

That day had started like any other: her boyfriend had snuck into her dorm room after her roommate left for volleyball practice and woke her up with the perfect spicy breakfast; her best friend had raved about their hot anatomy professor during lunch; her mother had called for the umpteenth time that month to come home for Sunday mass; her boss had assigned her new articles to write for the university editorial.

Normality, that was it.

But then she got a call from a hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana, and everything had fallen apart as the operator told her that her birth mother had died.

She shouldn't have fallen like that halfway down the dorm stairs. She shouldn't have been so heartbroken over the loss of the woman who'd abandoned her at three months old outside a Phoenix hospital.

But she was, and it hurt to have lost her just eight months after the two had finally reunited.

That had probably been the beginning of the defeat, but what had really destroyed her was the unsympathetic response she had received from her adoptive mother when she had called her.

She had found herself yelling at her for the first time and slamming the phone down on her.

Then she had thrown the phone on the floor, collapsed against the side of the bed, and cried more tears than she thought her eyes could produce in such a short amount of time.