SHE PROMISED ( the originals )

0017. DON'T WORRY, IT SCARES ME TOO

SHE PROMISED
( part one, chapter seventeen )

( trigger warning: mentions
of suicide & abuse )

AFTER HER SHOWER, ELLE HAD decided to make herself a cup of hot chocolate. She headed to the kitchen and started to prepare herself a warm mug, not even bothering to fix the fallen shoulder of her shirt. When her hot chocolate was finally done, she pushed some of her brown locks behind her ear, frowning when one strand was stubborn and didn't want to be complaint like the others. "Whatever," she muttered.

She almost shuddered when she heard something on the street, a joyous laugh, and Elle shut her eyes. Seeing all that blood... it was...

She started walking towards her bedroom, ready to kick back and watch whatever Netflix had thought best to serve her when she heard the clearing of a throat, nearly jumping out of her skin. Elle held back the scream, eyes wide as she saw Klaus standing on her balcony with a smirk but watched as it fell when his eyes landed on the exposed scarred skin of her shoulder. One scar was the most prominent, a darker tone than her usual shade, and ending in a point.

Elle immediately ran into her bedroom, pulling up her shirt and yelling, "Knock next time!" She dove for the jacket on her bed, tugging it tightly around her. A shudder left her and she nodded to herself, but taking herself and her mug out of her bedroom and back outside. Why was he here? He saw the scars... he saw them, he saw them! "Nik, w-what are you doing here?" Unlike her usual way of talking, where there was always an air of confidence around her, she looked shy and awkward, like all her confidence had been sucked dry.

"I came by to check on you," Klaus said, "after tonight's events." He cleared his throat, placing his hands behind his back. His eyes drifted to a painting on the wall behind her. It looked as if he wanted to look anywhere but her.

Elle remembered he had said he'd do that. She didn't actually expect him to do that. "Can I, um, interest you in some hot chocolate?" Elle offered. "Bourbon? Whiskey? I, uh, happen to know where Cordelia keeps the good stuff."

Klaus gave her a weak smile. "Hot chocolate's just fine, thank you."

"Err, why don't you... um, come in?" Elle said, placing her mug on the counter as she reached for another mug. "Thanks for, you know, checking on me. You didn't really have to."

"Is that not what friends do for one another?" He stepped into her apartment and for a moment, she was very glad her sister was not home. She did not need another reason to get yelled at. Cordelia had told her on several occasions that vampires were not allowed in their home, besides Marcel (but he had a valid reason).

Elle paused, smiling to herself. "I suppose so." She handed him the mug, him thanking her and he placed himself on the couch. She followed suit, sitting on the armchair by him and kicking her feet up onto the coffee table.

Minutes ticked away with uncomfortable silence, with the occasional sounds of them sipping at their drinks. "I know what you want to ask," she whispered suddenly, her eyes falling down to look at her covered body. When she looked back into his blue eyes, he seemed to agree with her. Elle gulped.

I want to trust him, she thought. I think I can trust him. I can trust him.

"You, um, you can ask... if you want." She nearly cringed at the sound of her own voice. But she'd never really talked about it with anyone other than a therapist, but she only alluded to it.

"How long have you had them?" he whispered to her slowly.

"Um," Elle paused to think, tapping rhythmically on her mug, "about two, three years. A few of them, I..." She cleared her throat; she could hear her voice almost break.

He did not need to ask her why she did it to herself. He did not need to ask her how she had gotten those scars. Klaus could remember when he himself was young and gotten such ugly scars, all from the hand of his father. But he had to be sure. "May I ask who..." He tried searching for the right words. He then shook his head, as if to say Never mind.

"My adoptive father, Joseph," Elle said. "It started after Stephanie died. Joseph, he just... he took all of his anger and frustration out and... I just... happened to be there."

Klaus could see she squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her mug tightly. He couldn't imagine what plagued her mind. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand but held himself back. He knew that wasn't what she wanted now.

"Seeing him every day, acting as if his touch didn't repulse me... it was awful. Then... at night, when he'd..." She shuddered and lowered her head. "That year was the most unbearable year of my life. That I can remember, that is.

"When we first met, I asked you to tell me your life story. You told me your father had abused you..." Elle exhaled. Her hazel eyes looked up from the contents of her mug into his blue eyes. "Does it ever get... easier, I guess is the word for it. You know, like... do you stop thinking about it twenty-four-seven?"

"I must confess, the type of torture you endured, I did not experience," Klaus said to her, again slowly. Despite the fact his father had physically abused him, his father had never harmed him the way Elle's father had. "But I can tell you this: when we first turned, I feared Mikael's hand everyday. I thought he would come for me and kill me with his bare hands. But I learned to stop fearing him, for I had my family with me; they were the people I focused on, not the monster who wronged me."

"I don't really have that, not anymore," Elle muttered. "Cordelia and I, we don't talk like we used to. Not anymore. I don't get why; ever since I met you, she's been acting completely different and it kills me."

"You have me," Klaus found himself saying. He was slightly surprised at his own words, but found himself agreeing with himself; Elle, despite only knowing her for so short a time, had gotten herself a special place in his heart that was only reserved for family. She almost reminded him of her... but he agreed a thousand years ago never to speak about her again. All of the Mikaelsons had. She was a secret they'd never talk about because to talk about her would only cause more heartbreak. She was a secret they'd like to take to their graves.

The young witch seemed surprised as well. "You don't mean that," she whispered, blushing and turning away from him.

Klaus stood, placing his mug on the table. "I do." He moved to the balcony, saying, "I should be leaving. Elijah's most likely believed that I'm causing some sort of bloodshed and mayhem, and I'd very well like to prove him wrong."

"It's not like it's an unbelievable theory," Elle smirked, placing her mug on the table as well. She walked to the balcony with him. "Can you, um, can you do something for me?" She pulled her jacket around her body.

"Of course."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone, Nik," Elle said. "I'd like to tell people in my own time, and I don't want people to think I'm... delicate or anything. I'm not glass, I'm not breakable... I'm still... Elle."

Klaus smiled and nodded. "I promise."

When she blinked, Niklaus Mikaelson had disappeared from her balcony and into the New Orleans night.

A/N: i know that there will be
some people that are probs gonna
be iffy about elle coming out to
klaus & telling him all this stuff
but you gotta remember: both
of them were abused by people
they called father ((someone they
both thought they could very well
trust & love)). elle trusts klaus
with this. she tells him this stuff
because he knows exactly what
she's going through & knows
that he won't treat her differently
because of it