𝘴𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

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[season four]

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marcid:

(adj.) withered;
incredibly exhausted

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Part of Madeline expected to wake up in the Gilbert family home to the sound of her brothers begging her to bless them with some breakfast. Elena would scold them for not doing it themselves, telling them that Madeline needed her sleep. She did not awaken to that fantasy. Disoriented, she examined her surroundings. For a moment, she thought all the heartache had been a part of a nightmare. She realized that wasn't the case when she spotted Jeremy's sketches on the side table, hope subsiding.

Jeremy was gone.

Engulfed with sorrow, Madeline wondered when the continuous funerals would cease. Like clockwork, her loved ones were yanked out of her life, deliberately leaving her with tons of questions she couldn't possibly answer. Apprehension captured her mind, causing her to doubt her every decision. A pair of arms kept her from leaving the bed. Already familiar with who it was, she turned her body to face him.

Stefan looked like an angel, his features completely relaxed and the definition of striking. Wondering if she would ever lose him, she admired him silently. If he was taken away, her heart would be left devoid. Feeling the urge to cry approaching, she blinked rapidly and untangled herself from his arms. Once in the bathroom, she let out a breath she had been holding, grasping onto the sink countertop.

She glimpsed into the mirror, an expression of hatred and despair looking back at her. Tears were impossible to repress, shimmering in her eyes.

"Madeline." a familiar whisper let out. Beside her reflection, Jeremy stood with a blank expression, his eyes depleted of liveliness. He wasn't looking at her the way he used to. Her mouth was wide open as she turned around. Disillusioned, she realized there was no one there. All of it was in her head, a ridiculous misconception that left her wishing she could trade places with her younger brother.

Breathing heavily, Maddie stared at the empty space. It was official. She was going insane.

Chuckling at her own foolishness, she averted her gaze to the mirror. She had gotten her hopes up. Again. Before she could wash her face to gain back some sense of normalcy, her head was bombarded with thoughts that weren't hers. It sent ripples of agony through her brain, making her wince. Teeth gritted, she clasped onto her head, praying the pain would depart.

She could hear the thoughts of her family downstairs. Damon. Elena. Pietro. Wincing, Maddie waited until the discomfort lessened slightly, whispering to herself that it would all be okay. The pain and thoughts still lingered, but they became tolerable. Adding to her confusion, while glimpsing at the mirror, her eyes were illuminated with a profound scarlet red. As the color faded, so did the voices, granting her a moment of bliss. She scoffed in disbelief, stunned that she couldn't get a break.

"I need to get shitface drunk."

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Sneaking out of the Salvatore house was easier than Madeline had anticipated. Damon was busy worrying about Elena, downing a glass of bourbon. The closer she got to her destination, the more voices she heard. They all belonged to the random people at the bar, nearly making her unable to speak without groaning in pain.

However, when she got her hands on the hardest liquor the Grill had, the thoughts vanished. Each drop granted her unexpected contentment. She forgot about everything — Jeremy's death, Elena turning off her humanity, the interminable gloom. She wondered what would've happened if she hadn't moved to Mystic Falls, a town that slowly led her to her descent. Her life could've turned out so differently, uncorrupted with woe.

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