chapter seven, is your blood same as mine?
"TOO MUCH TIME has passed, Ophelia. Our father has died," Stefan announced.
The painting of Michelangelo didn't interest her anymore. The hybrid, waiting for Damon to bring him the witch, didn't matter anymore. The voice in her head, announcing her death and the return of her nightmares, was like a fog. Ophelia made a mistake asking about their father, asking a silly question 'where is he' when she knew how much time had passed.
The calm expression on her face, which reminded them all of a muse of a painter, shattered. Quickly blinking, her eyes filled with tears. Was it guilt or joy? Ophelia remembered those nights when she selfishly wished their father would never wake up again and never see the morning sun. What a horrible person she was, she knew that. But that's what bruises do to you—you can cover them up, but they stay within you. They hurt even if they are not visible to you. She remembers each and every one of her bruises.
And the tear that rolled down her cheek from her left eye, reminded them of a statue in the middle of the rain. There was a mythical essence surrounding her. There was the reminder of the older days around her – of the silence of women who couldn't speak, who couldn't scream. The silence of a broken soul that didn't know what it was to be joyful.
Only Stefan didn't tell her how Giuseppe Salvatore died. He didn't tell her that he was the one that ripped his throat apart. There was already so much pain around them and he didn't want to portray himself as a killer. For just this moment. She will figure out everything herself.
As the tear touched the corner of her lips, it started to rise into a small smile. Her eyes gazed down, full of tears and hurt. Opening her mouth, she gasped out and let out a sound—not a sigh, not a wail. A laugh.
It felt good to laugh. And she didn't stop herself. Her laughter sounded unreal, it was too high-pitched—has Stefan ever heard how she laughed truthfully? She placed her hand on her chest as she kept on laughing, the little tears falling down on the dusty, unloved wood beneath their feet.
Ophelia sniffled, covering her face with the palm of her hand. Everyone in the room was watching her and she felt insane. To laugh when she heard that her father is gone? She wasn't a good person, but that wasn't a surprise for her. And she didn't really care what others are thinking of her.
"Ophelia, I..." Stefan tried to calm her down. But there was no need for that. She quickly straightened her back, pushing the back of her head against the wall, revealing them her glossy eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. A half smile quickly faded into the calm expression of hers. "Are you alright?"
The woman blinked a few times, "La morte è inevitabile. He was the one that deserved it the most."
Stefan didn't know the whole abuse of their father just like Ophelia and Damon did. He knew their father wasn't a good person – he was a liar, he was manipulative and he was the one that shot them. However, he didn't expect this sort of reaction from her. Ophelia was always calm. He was never be able to read her.
With that, Ophelia intrigued Klaus. He was so used to humans that were overly terrified. He was so used to supernatural creatures that were overly confident. She possessed cruelty inside of her that wasn't hers. It was planted inside of her. By the reaction to her father's death, he could understand that Giuseppe Salvatore was punishing her for her existence. An emotion he could recognise anywhere. An emotion he held inside of him.
But she was beautifully calm. All he wanted was to get inside her brain and get her secrets out—and for what? He was a murderer – he never listened to reasoning and begging. He knew he couldn't kill her when she possessed something he so wished to have. But it only made it more interesting that his power was stored inside of her. Inside of a woman, with an abusive power. Inside of a woman, that one day will make her hands bloody. He wanted to see her rage.
"There are many things you don't know and not enough time to explain them," Stefan explained, trying to reason with her. But she didn't seem to care about those things – she knew they didn't have time. She knew so much must've happened. Ophelia doubted she had the capacity to understand everything.
"Oh, do enlighten us, Stefan, what is it that we don't know?" Klaus cheerfully asked, feeling extremely bored waiting for the Bennett witch.
"It's not our family to dive into, Niklaus," Elijah disagreed.
Klaus scoffed, "Don't tell me you're not interested in the secrets of the house Salvatore." He pronounced their name the way Italians would and that definitely got Ophelia's attention.
"The secrets stay with the Salvatore house, don't you think?" Stefan glared at the hybrid as he pronounced their last name in the American way.
Ophelia scrunched her nose in disgust. She was always the one who was the most proud of their Italian roots. Ever since they moved to America, it just changed. Her father and brothers didn't say a word in Italian, wanting to blend it better. She has lost most of her accent as well, but there was a maid that was interested in learning Italian so Ophelia spoke with her in her mother tongue.
Her mother loved the Italian language, but after her death, it was as if restricted from their household.
"Do not disgrace our roots, Stefan," she sternly said. "That is what father would call us. But we are not Americans."
At that brief moment, Stefan felt a bit bad that he had forgotten his roots. It was just so easy to blend in and continue living on. It was a new country and for him, it felt like home. He doesn't remember much of Italy, but he was very glad to go to America. It was a land of new opportunities. He believed that.
"Now we know that they are from Italy and Stefan here has forgotten that himself... Oh! And that their father is dead—what else is in line?" Klaus cheerfully chirped.
Elijah sighed, "You're acting childish."
"No, I'm bored," Klaus disagreed. "Damon should hurry up before I get really bored."
"And then what? My head will be on the floor?" Stefan scoffed at him, crossing his hands over his chest.
The hybrid appeared to be thinking: "A possibility."
Ophelia's lips slightly twitched, itching with the desire to appear disgusted by this conversation. But she closed her eyes and shook her head.
"So how did the father die, Stefan? Would you care to enlighten us?" Klaus leaned to the wall with his back, crossing his arms, mimicking the stance of Stefan. He was clearly playing with him as he didn't have any interest in their backstory.
"You are not respectful," Ophelia stated.
Klaus' eyebrows gently raised as he grinned: "Never said I was."
"And you are content with that?"
There was finally some emotion in her calm expression—finally, he was getting something out of her. He didn't like chit-chatting and whatnot, but it was either that or some sort of violence. Could he get her to show a little bit more emotion?
"When you live as long as me, the respect just fades—like it never was there," he shrugged and watched the way her eyes dropped on Elijah. Klaus chuckled and shook his head: "Don't believe the whole nobility act my dear brother has here. I know the suits make him look like a gentleman, but... Even he forgets what respect means."
"What is life without respect?" Ophelia disagreed.
"Everything beyond. If you put your morals behind, you'll see a whole new world. It gets addicting," Klaus explained, tilting his head a bit, drinking every bit and piece of reaction she was giving him. She was getting addicting to observe.
"I believe I can sense that," she placed her hand on her neck where there were bruises from his grip back in the woods. She bitterly swallowed her saliva and ached with pain.
Elijah suddenly moved forward, "Why is your wound not healed?"
Ophelia furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding how a wound like that could heal just in a few days. However, Stefan seemed to understand and he turned his attention to her, seeing that her bruises were still very purple.
"If she possesses your power, shouldn't she be able to heal on her own?" Stefan questioned.
"She is only a hybrid when there is contact. She's not it on her own," the hybrid explained.
"Even a second would be enough for her wounds to heal," Elijah came close, looking at her bruises from up close. He looked puzzled, but not more than Ophelia was. Noting that, the Original took the initiative to explain: "We possess the ability to heal quickly. Broken ends and bruises are nothing – gone in mere seconds."
The woman slowly nodded, understanding a bit more about where the issue was. If she was also the so-called hybrid, then why was she only beside him? And if there was any use of her power or if it was just a façade?
"I think..." Elijah stated, but he didn't finish his thought. He turned to Stefan and explained, "I think she'd be more comfortable with you healing her."
Ophelia's eyes moved between the two men frantically. What did they mean by healing her?
Elijah took a step back and Stefan came closer. "We also have the ability to heal humans. Just a drop of our blood can heal horrible wounds almost immediately. We may be cursed, but we can also help."
The woman nodded, clearly not really comfortable with this whole situation. But she didn't say a word. She didn't try to disagree. She didn't know she could disagree. She just watched how her twin brother bit his own palm until there was blood oozing out of it. He didn't even wince out of pain. He didn't even blink. And he pushed the palm to her and she scrunched her nose. Hesitantly, she leaned to the palm, licked the oozing blood away and pulled back.
The metallic taste made her wince, but she swallowed the blood and closed her eyes. It was disgusting. She hated the taste of blood because she knew how it tasted. Sometimes father would hit her on her face and wouldn't let her leave the room until she is all healed up.
Stefan turned his palm to her and there was no wound. It was perfectly even. As if nothing was ever there. Her eyes widened and she almost choked in surprise, taking in that this was all very real. Her brother was a vampire. He could do things she couldn't even imagine.
However, the pain didn't ease and the look on Elijah's face told them all that his theory was right. "You have his power, he has yours..." He mumbled as if to himself and then turned to his brother. "She cannot be healed by a supernatural because she is supposed to be one. But she doesn't have the power because—you carry it."
Now, Klaus didn't seem so bored. "So what, I have to hold her hand until she starts healing on her own?"
Elijah hummed, thinking. "No. I believe that you can only heal her with her blood or she is stuck on human terms."
"That's a bit far-fetched," Klaus deadpanned.
"Vampire blood doesn't heal her. She is a hybrid with physical contact. Nothing really here is out of the textbooks, now is it, brother?"
Klaus looked at Ophelia who looked just as puzzled as all of them. He took a step closer and she flinched.
"I do not—I do not want any more blood. I am perfectly capable of dealing with the wounds myself," she immediately disagreed as she didn't want to feel that horrible metallic taste in her mouth again.
"It's for a better cause," he explained. "Even though, I'm not really negotiating. We have no information about what you are and every piece matters," he took a step closer, alerting Stefan.
"She said no," Stefan covered his sister.
"You should learn to stay in your place," Klaus threatened.
"Alright!" Ophelia interrupted them all. "I will—drink it."
Stefan uneasily stepped back, giving her enough space and the hybrid overtook his place beside her. She moved her body away from the wall and he looked at her from up-close. Her chest was rising with anxiety, with a certain disgust, and he thrived off it. He pushed the sleeve up and revealed his forearm. He bit the inside of his wrist and pushed it against her lips.
Ophelia uneasily looked at the oozing blood and hesitantly inched closer. She placed her lips on the bite, starting to suck the blood out. She gulped some blood and her eyes widened—it was so sweet! There wasn't any metallic taste, it was pure sugar, pure ecstasy. Her body shifted and she gulped more.
"That's an eager girl," he murmured, pushing his free hand behind her and placing his hand on her jaw, supporting it. He could sense how greedily she started to drink, how the anxiety vanished and the sweet sweet ecstasy overtook her. What a refreshing sight. "Now let's not get too greedy," he softly said and removed his hand away from her.
Ophelia turned her head to him, a bit dizzy from the feeling. She couldn't describe how it felt – she had never experienced it before. But the pain in her throat eased, almost immediately and she didn't react the way his thumb wiped the blood off the corner of her lips, gently smothering the blood on her bottom one. Then he pushed her jaw slightly up and smirked:
"Quite insightful, Elijah," he said as the bruises were gone.
He met her brown, doe eyes and he had to take a moment to breathe in. His blood on her bottom lip was slightly giving her pink lips a tint and she licked her lips to get every drop. He smirked, pleased with himself, pleased to see something more out of her. What a pretty creature she was.
"What the hell is going on here?" Damon's voice echoed through the room and Klaus gently moved his hands away from her.
Maybe, her, being a hybrid, could become useful.
well that just got hot instantly— tell me what you think about this chapter? xx