Little White Lies | Klaus Mikaelson (1)

High School Dance From Hell

I stared at the apartment in a mix of happiness and confusion. Every step I took caused a boom across the completely empty space. I placed down the single suitcase I had. It contained everything I had to my name. Not including some of the furniture and luxuries Damon had compelled for me. Those were supposed to arrive tomorrow.

I glanced at the air mattress in the corner of my room, which had light seeping in from the cracks in the blinds. I pulled up the blinds, taking a moment to cough and wheeze as I inhaled a good amount of dust.

Okay, so maybe I have work to do.

Besides the horrible paint job and sickening wallpaper, the place was pretty gorgeous. One bed, one bath. Excellent water pressure. (Which was surprising for the cost of the complex itself.) And, not to mention, the breathtaking foliage that was only a few feet away from my bed room window. This was going to make a good home.

I got on my knees next to the air mattress and felt around the an outlet. When I found one, I peeled off the plastic cap and inserted my clock. It was stuck at the time 1:58pm. I glanced at my phone and set the time. I sighed blissfully as I collapsed onto the mattress. After some drawn out silence, interrupted only by my shallow breathing, I let out a squeal of delight.

"Yes, yes, yes," I grinned, wrapping my arms around myself as a congratulations. I was... free. No more of my stupid drunk of a father. Just me.

My absolute delight was interrupted when I heard my doorbell ring. Who could this be? I literally just got here five minutes ago.

I silently prayed it wasn't the landlady as I glanced through the peep-holes. To my confusion, there was absolutely no one. Am I seriously getting ding dong ditched the moment I stepped into my apartment?

I opened the door, which creaked and groaned. I scanned the side of the building and the nearby sidewalk. Nothing. I rolled my eyes and began closing the door, but something caught my eye.

I glanced down at my feet, and there say a large black box with a white ribbon and a card taped onto it. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I bent down to pick up the gift. It was relatively light, maybe five or six pounds. I shook its contents just a little, and heard next to no movement.

I closed the door with my shoe and collapsed onto my knees, once again. First, I peeled off the tape that kept the card clinging to the box. The card read, 'Emma Bertan' in a beautiful, modern form of calligraphy. Gingerly, I ran my fingers across the black ink.

Just as I was about to open it, I pondered What if it's anthrax? I scoffed at my own ridiculousness and opened the letter. In the same, modern calligraphy were the words, "Please join the Mikaelson Family this evening at seven O'clock for dancing, cocktails, and celebration."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I studied the card. Why were the Mikaelson's holding a party? And why was I invited? What are we celebrating? Did they actually manage to kill Klaus? I guess that did call for celebration.

I raised my eyebrows. I was hardly the cinderella type. I always felt out of sorts among the rich and ultra classy. Perhaps it was because I'd always been looked down upon by them.

I flipped over the card and read the back, which caused my breath to hitch in my throat. 'Save me a dance. Fondly, Klaus.' I felt heat creep up my cheeks as I scoffed. And why in the fuck did this pretentious dick think I was going to dance with him? So he could threaten my life again? I think not. This bastard threatens my friends and then expects me to do the hokey-pokey with him?