𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 , the origin of katherine valentine

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death keeps knocking on my door
*FLASHBACK CHAPTER*

WARNING: SUICIDE IN THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION

WARNING: SUICIDE IN THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION

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───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Katherine sits in The Mikaelson Abattoir, having heard the news from good friend Marcel Girard, that her mother was doing dirty work for Dahlia.

"Katherine, I am so sorry." Says Marcel, placing his hand on the girls shoulder. Katherine pulls away, tense.

"She was my mother. She always said the Mikaelsons were the best things that ever happened to our family." She looks up, her eyes filled with tears. "She betrayed us. She betrayed me." Marcel nods as the girl stands, running her hand through her hair. "I did everything for her! I followed Klaus Mikaelson blindly all for her! I broke your trust and Davinas for her! I almost lost my best friends! And she betrayed us by working with that-" Katherine let's out a troubled scream, using her magic to send a table across the room.

Marcel stands to his feet. "Katherine calm down." He says. Katherine cries as she shakes her head.

"She ruined everything! I was supposed to be happy! I loved her! I trusted her!" The young witch cries. "How am I supposed to live with the fact she made me help the most horrible bitch on this planet?" Her eyes are red and glossy as she looks up at Marcel. "How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I could've gotten Hope killed? Or any of you?"

Marcel pets the girls hair as he sets her on the couch. "I'm going to get you something to drink, just sit here and breath, alright?"

Katherine nods, inhaling deeply as Marcel vamp speeds off. He pours her a drink of fruit punch. An aching feeling fills his gut. He had never seen Katherine act that way. She was usually so snarky and had a smile on her face, even in the worse situations. But this, this was different. Worried, Marcel slices his palm, a small amount of blood dripping into the glass.

He brings it out, giving it to the unsuspecting witch, hoping he was wrong.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Antionette cut the vegetables for her family dinner that night. Her husband of nearly 25 years, Lucas, was out at work. He was a traveling speaker for colleges, he had just came home from a college in Virginia a few days ago, and needed to file a report in his office.

Katherine stormed into the house. "Is it true? You're working with Dahlia?" Katherine asks.

Her mother pauses. "Who told you that?" She asks slowly.

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