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chapter forty
dead girls don't cry
・❥・
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Dark, eerie mist settled along the floor, spreading like a disease, It was a horribly cliché thing . . . the dark, gloomy horror movie setting she was stuck in. But that's exactly what it was, a horror movie planted in her mind, just for her.
And everyone knows how horror movies go, a killer, a victim. Was she the victim in this movie? The helpless girl who fought her way through it, losing many things along the way . . . and in Jordanna's case, that was her sanity. Or was she the perpetrator? The one behind it all, running after the victim, bloodied knife in clutch, waiting to attack.
I guess you could say she was both.
Both villain and hero in her own torment chamber. But the main antagonist of her story? That spot was specially saved for Klaus Mikaelson himself. Even though the torturous images and movies of his desiccated, crisp to the brim, body had stopped, she still saw it. She longed for it to end, the pain—she longed to see his face as the one she fell in love with, not this imposter taking form in his body.
Even now his pretty blue, ocean eyes tormented her. He stood beside her, mocking her. But it was all simply in her head, he wasn't there, she knew that, but it didn't end—even though she knew that it was just a figment of her imagination.
If she blinked, he'd disappear, giving her a solace—but that only lasted a mere second before he showed up again, carrying on the torment, the decaying body following her around like a dog with a bone. And in this instance, she was the bone. The Klaus her mind had conjured up, he was the dog ( go figure ). Once he caught her in his grasp, he'd bite down, hard.
