Compulsion [J. Murphy]

C H A P T E R F I V E

Dear journal-diary-thing,

It's been a hundred years since I last wrote in this. The last time I wrote in this was a completely different era, nothing is the same anymore.

A nuclear apocalypse destroyed everything, except for the house. Funny isn't it? That house could survive, probably because of magic, but nothing else did. I haven't even seen a sign of the roads that used to cover the ground. No cars, no houses, no buildings, there's no remnants that anyone used to live here. Except for the few signs I've passed by.

I doubt Damon and Stefan are still alive. Nuclear bombs equal fire which equals death. There's no sign of them in the house. The only way I can tell that they even lived there is the pictures from our childhood and their rooms.

I was on the ISS at the time, so the bombs didn't affect us, and that's where I lived for ninety-nine years. Twelve stations came together to form the Ark, but there was thirteen. We blew them up for not joining us, but I saw a dropship. It had an infinity sign on the side of it just like the syringe did at the Augustine Society.

I always wonder if the person that saved themself was a part of those monsters. They tortured Enzo, Damon, and I for years. I was their blood-test dummy. They wanted to know if they could change anything about my blood, so they enlisted the help of a scientist. She didn't know what for, but she made something. Ever since they injected me with it, my blood has been as black as ever.

"You coming with us or are you gonna keep writing in your diary?" Murphy says popping up in my tent, scaring me.

"Why do I need to come with y'all? Isn't one vampire enough for a rescue mission?" I snap at him.

"You know the most about Earth. You might could lead us somewhere that the grounders would take him," he tries to reason.

I look up at him, closing the journal. That's enough thinking for today. "And the others are supposed to think that it's not suspicious how I know exactly where everything is?"

"Lead the way."

I get up walking over to a table that I compelled someone to make for me. I open up one of my boxes, displaying the knives that are neatly tucked away inside of it. I grab a couple of throwing knives stashed away in it, underneath those was a very old pocket knife. I pick it up and run my thumb over the initials carved into it.

N.M. & V.S. & A.M. & A.M.

I decide to take it also and put it in my pocket. I turn back to Murphy who looks bored. "Why are you going? I didn't peg you as the rescuing type."