Little White Lies | Klaus Mikaelson (1)

Not What She Seems

Stefan, Damon and I sat in the Salvatore mansion. Alaric sat on the ground. I stood over his body. The night had passed in a blink of an eye. I hadn't moved from my spot for a good four hours. My eyes were glued to Alaric's body, my sanity a whisper of wind as I drowned in my own guilt.

I'd killed him. I killed one of my best friends. I felt like the world was crashing down. I took him away from Jeremy and Elena. Not even Klaus had killed any of us today. No, that was me. I'm the villain. Perhaps the worst of us all.
"I'm a murderer," I muttered hoarsely. Tear stains bleached my cheeks, a temporary scar that would fade. Unlike the feeling of absolute hopelessness.

Damon clutched a bourbon in his hands. I'm surprised he hadn't drunk himself to death last night, as we all stood around Alaric, hoping that some miracle would heal him. "No, he had his ring on," Damon spoke from the couch.

"I'm not supernatural, Damon," I cried, peeling my eyes from Alaric for one moment, solely to meet Damon's. Not for more then five seconds, as I turned back to face Alaric.

All the happiness I'd been feeling for the past few months vanished, and I was pushed back into that exact state I'd spent so long trying to crawl out of. I'm disgusting. I'm a horrible person. I don't deserve to be here. Hell, I had been conflicted, thought for a moment, by the exact man who had killed Jenna. I was, perhaps, the worst form of evil.

I was pulled form the deepest depths of my mind by someone breathing in so heavily, it was as if they were trying to take the air from the entire world. Ric sat up, gasping for air as he looked around, wide eyed. Like a deer in headlights.

One of the most magnificent feeling washed over me, like liquid diamond coursing through my veins, as I cried, "Ric?"

"What happened?" He asked, glancing around the room wildly. The weight lifted off my shoulder was tremendous. I could feel my heart swelling a million sizes.

"I thought I killed you," I cried. The tears running down my face came from a different place, now, as I crushed him beneath the tightest hug I could manage. I laughed joyfully, completely awestruck.

"It's okay, Emma," He cracked his neck side to side, letting out a sharp groan, "I feel like I got hit by a car though,"

"That's because you did," I responded, unable to stop smiling, "I'm so happy I get to check hitting someone with a car off my bucket like. Like Harry Styles and Taylor Swift."

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ric," Damon said, a grin across his face. We spoke for a few minutes, me apologizing erratically every few seconds. I was so happy I didn't kill him.

But at the same time, wow. One bad thing happens and I slip into all those horrible thoughts. A little issue arises and I am thinking all these self-deprecating thoughts. I knew my mental health was never at its peak, but I've been doing so much better recently, and I don't want to hide my arms for the rest of my life.

Stefan interrupted my train of thoughts, "Ric shouldn't be alive. He died, right? And Emma's supposed to be human,"

"Definitely human, but you're right," I mumbled. I hadn't even thought about that. Ric really shouldn't be alive right now. "I don't see myself sucking blood or doing witchy juju anytime soon,"

"Well you're not human, or Ric wouldn't be alive," Stefan pointed out. I was just as lost as him. I mean, I swear I thought I was human. I would've bet my life on it. I'd never exhibited any signs of magic, I most definitely wasn't dead.

"Maybe you're a doppelganger," Ric spoke up. He now stood over near the cabinets, pulling out a bourbon. The moment you rise from the dead, you decide to get drunk.