𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳

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[season four || episode four]
the five

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alexithymia:
(n.) the inability to express
your feelings

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𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠

Awakening in her bed, Madeline furrowed her brows, feeling odd. It was as if something wasn't right. Hopping off the mattress, she heard someone rummaging through the kitchen. Cautiously, she went down the stairs and was met with an astonishing sight.

"Turn the stove off! Turn the stove off!" Alaric demanded frantically, watching their food begin to overflow.

"I did! It's not stopping!" Pietro exclaimed, panicking as the wasted food continued oozing onto the stove. "Do something!"

Alaric scoffed. "Why me?"

"You're the adult!" Pietro declared, looking at him in disbelief. "Let's just get Mads."

"No, no, no, no!" Alaric refused, shaking his head rapidly. The males were completely unaware the redhead was supervising from the staircase. "She's sleeping. This is supposed to be a surprise!"

"What is it for again?" Pietro questioned, momentarily forgetful.

"Can't I just do something nice for my daughter?" Alaric retorted.

"Well, she certainly won't eat this." Pietro chuckled, examining the mess. "It sucks."

Alaric glared at him. "Well, thanks for the honesty." Madeline took a step backward, wanting to hide before whatever illusion she was experiencing passed, but the floorboards creaked.

"Oh, good morning, sestra." Pietro chuckled, sensing the father's panic. There was not a shred of misery.

"Maddie!" Alaric said, blocking the food with his body. "You're up earlier than usual."

"She probably smelt the burnt cooking," Pietro muttered under his breath. Quick to shut down any other comments, Alaric gently slapped the back of his head. "Ow."

It wasn't right. Her father was dead. So why was he back in her kitchen, welcoming her with a smile? Why could she feel an urge to have humanity again?

Madeline could feel her lungs shrink, the aura she once had squeezing through the crack of her compassionless self. Stumbling back at the lack of oxygen, she rushed up the stairs and locked the door after realizing her powers didn't work.

Sweet memories of her family flashed before her eyes one by one. Her father was in each one of them, his warming embrace distinguishable. If she had been quick enough to stop Klaus's death, he would still be alive. "Get out of my head!" she shouted, aware that this was someone else's doing. "Let me out!"

𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 𝗘𝗡𝗗

Lifting her head, Madeline gasped as she awoke, taking in her surroundings. Recognizing the old walls, she scoffed. Right. She was detained. Checking her reaction to the memory he gave her, Stefan said, "Sleep well?"

"You know I didn't." Madeline croaked out, her throat begging for blood. "Change your mind about letting me out?"

"You already know the answer to that, Leine," Stefan whispered, repressing how rotten he felt. "Change your mind about your humanity."

Madeline didn't respond, glaring. "Silent treatment?" Stefan commented. The idea of seeing the tiniest spark of admiration in her eyes was all he could think about. He knew she was still there. She wouldn't have saved Pietro if she wasn't.

𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 ༄ 𝗦. 𝗦𝗔𝗟𝗩𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗘 ²︎Where stories live. Discover now