Lover • Klaus Mikaelson

Twenty Six

3rd person POV:

When Marcel got the Klaus' call he immediately left for the compound. Walking into Klaus' room he sees the redheaded Original lying on the bed, pale and bloody.

"What happened?" 

"We're not sure. I went downstairs and when I came back up she was collapsed on the floor, unconscious," Hayley said rapidly. Marcel took one look at her and could tell that she was panicking. 

"Can you help her?" Klaus asked. He was sitting on the bed next to her, holding her hand. He didn't care if Hayley and Marcel knew he still cared for her. At this point he was most worried about her safety. 

"What do you want me to do?" Marcel asked.

"I don't know. Surely you have a witch that could potentially do something," Klaus reasoned. Hayley's eyes were glued to her friend's face. She had a weird feeling about everything that was going on with Amelia. She had never once had problems with her mask, she had never once gone unconscious, never had Amelia ever showed as much vulnerability and weakness as she had since arriving in New Orleans. The changes in Amelia were either coming from New Orleans or Klaus Mikaelson, and Hayley desperately hoped it was the latter. She could see how much they cared for each other. Even right now, Klaus hadn't let go of her hand since he had hung up from talking to Marcel. 

"Let me ask around, see what I can find. I'll make it quick," Marcel said.

***

Amelia screamed as a searing pain erupted in her head. She fell to her knees in the middle of the blackness and struggled for breath. 

"You're very resilient, my darling," the voice said. Amelia still had not figured out who the woman tormenting her was. 

"I'm an Original, I have to be," Amelia replied. Her voice was hoarse, but her words were confident. 

"Ah, an Original. The almighty title. You hide behind it, almost like it's your mother," the voice taunted. "I have a question for you, if you weren't an Original, would you be so confident?" Amelia remained silent and pulled her knees up to her chest. "How does it make you feel to know that your best friend slept with the only man you've ever truly loved?" 

"I'm over him, therefore it doesn't bother me," Amelia growled. She was sick and tired of people bringing up her past with Niklaus, and the next person who did would find themselves headless.

"Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that even after the thousand years that you've been alive, you're over him?" The voice paused, as if it's invisible eyes were analyzing her. "You do, you really do. Well I'll let you know something. You're not over him. Just like you're not over the fact that you've murdered thousands of people. The fact that you murdered your parents."

"Stop!" Amelia yelled, standing and facing the dark figure. She heard a dark chuckle. 

"Am I getting to you yet? Don't you remember how good your mother's blood tasted. Or how fun it was to rip your father's heart out?" 

"Stop! Please!" Amelia begged. With every word that the figure said, the pounding in her head worsened. 

"Oh, and we can't forget about your siblings. Poor little Emmanuel. Young, and innocent, and yet you felt the need to drink him dry. And little Rosalina. Her blood was your favorite, that must be why you kept her alive the longest. Drinking out of her first, and finishing her off last." 

"I said stop!" Amelia cried, vamp speeding towards the figure. To her dismay she went right through. 

"I can't get rid of me. I'll always be here, torturing you until you repent from your sins," the voice said.