Inseparable

Rebekah

Rebekah

I'm increasingly weary of men who arrogantly believe they can outperform me, those foolish damn creatures.

I'm reluctantly doing this against my will, and unsurprisingly, the only person who could convince me is the one asking for the favor. I have a real soft spot for my older brother; he's always been there for me.

As I venture into the core of war-ravaged Germany, the smell of smoke and the faint rumble of explosions assault my senses. Amidst this chaos, Elijah's persistent demand, "Retrieve the artifact; it's crucial for our family's survival," resonates in my mind. I catch myself mimicking his snooty accent and can't help but laugh. Hell, I guess it's not so bad that Kol is stuck sorting through stacks of old papers and books for some other nonsense. 

I would absolutely never have consented to this fuckery had I known the extent of the devastation from the war. When I said, "Well, at least I can go shopping in Paris," I now realize why Klaus snickered. He probably knew the entire area was in ruins but remained silent. With the numerous roadblocks, driving becomes impractical; hence, using my supernatural speed is the only way to reach the airport in Switzerland in time to catch the next flight out of this war-torn hell hole.

Intense battles are raging every damn place I go, and my recent departure from Munich is an absolute glorious fucking disaster; I just had to break my goddamn fingernail! Why is there another damn war anyway? I find myself at odds with the current events, unlike Finn, Damon, and his whiney brother, who are willing to risk life and limb and throw themselves in front of bombs to save humans. 

I refuse to squander my time on a war to aid one faction in overcoming another. Why bother? Two or three decades will pass, and it will simply be some other group of testosterone-filled asshats in yet another endless conflict. Over the years, my patience for such nonsense has worn thin.

Klaus accuses me of being self-absorbed; however, I must argue that after a century of decimating entire villages, a sense of guilt overwhelmed me. I became a bleeding heart, a defender of humans wherever I could, and honestly, I grew to see there was no saving them all. I do know there are some good ones around, but it seems like over the years, these humans have become more vicious and dangerous than any vampire.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rattles the ground, jolting me from my thoughts and sending me flying backward, landing flat on my ass. Despite this inconvenient explosion, I've made good time and cannot allow a bomb to impede my progress. 

The constant barrage of men's voices—yelling, weeping, swearing, shrieking, and pleading—has become white noise, but suddenly, a woman's scream pierces through the barrier I have built for my own sanity. Glancing up, I spot fiery red hair about 700 feet away, but in the opposite damn direction of my travel. Fuck, from the sound of it, she appears to be in trouble, and, dear God, I have a weakness for redheads.

As I reach her, I notice she is covered with debris, her red hair splayed out tangled and bloody. Blood seeps from a gash on the side of her face as well as a sizable laceration on her head. Observing her, it seems her arm and shoulder are completely fractured. Yet, even smeared with mud, dirt, and blood, she remains stunning. Her eyes are initially shut, and upon realizing someone's presence, they flutter open, revealing the most striking shade of bright blue.

In a faint voice, diminished by blood loss, she whispers. "Oh hell, I fucking died. Are you the angel sent to collect me?"

I am about to answer her, and then a revelation hits her, and she says, "Hey, that means I've made it, and here I thought I was going to hell for sure."

Her deep Southern accent is thick and sweet. Her foul mouth brings a smile to my face.

"All right, pottymouth, let's get your damn ass to safety."