Body & Soul - Klaus Mikaelson

Three

Another book falls as I fail to catch it, I swear under my breath as it lands on my foot. Growling I kick it across the room. I turn back to the bookcase searching through the journals, lining the walls. They're all my father's. Everything he detailed from the first day he triggered his own curse. I take another off the shelf, rummage through it and toss it to the table next to me. The one I'm looking for has to be here.

I rip the last one from the shelf, turning it over in my hands, rolling my eyes at its lack of knowledge before setting it on the table with the other twenty-one journals he wrote, one for each year he was a Wolf. I clench my jaw, another idea popping into my head. I curse again, rubbing a hand across my forehead. 

I've read every single one of these, cover to cover, each after my father died. I memorized his wording, his intricate lettering. I know the journal where he finally became comfortable with his experience enough that he switched from journaling to collect as much knowledge as he could about Wolves. A collection, I assume, that was meant for me if and when I triggered my curse. But I had these books memorized before that happened. And yet out of all these journals, I can't find the one piece of information that I need. 

Slowly I find my way to the stairs, dragging myself up at them to the first closed door in the upstairs hallway. A door I haven't opened in a few months. I take a shaky breath, pushing it open. My breath gets caught at the normality of the room. The large bed is still made to my mother's pristine expectations, her book lays open on the comforter. My father's side is untouched, it has been for years. The closet is still barely ajar, the military uniforms still peaking from the crack. The crib still stands under the window, half-built, much like the baby that was supposed to call it home. 

I lick my lips, ignoring the echoing calls of the oblivion as I start towards the closet, pulling it open trying to keep my distance from the Army uniforms. I stand on my tiptoes, reaching the shelf overhead. My fingers brush the personal safe, and I push myself up further gripping the sides. I pull it from the shelf, turning to my right and placing into on the table that held my mother's jewelry. 

I take a step back, staring at the metal casing chewing on my thumb. The lock still locked, the door still sealed. I haven't had the courage to go digging through yet. Though I did have Damon crack the combo for me with his super ears, which is gracefully stuck to it on a sticky note. I drop my arm, trying to convince myself that these answers are worth it. 

Are they?

Shaking out my hands, I gently peel the note, taking the lock in my left hand and slowly twisting it to the first number. It resonates a soft click, and I move to the second number, then the third. It clicks letting me know it's open. I gently pull the door open, my father's wallet falling into my hand. 

I flip it open, his license still there, a picture of me and my mom on one side. I let out a small smile, closing it and setting it aside. I pull my father's passport out, a bundle of pictures, his medal from the army. All of which I set aside, praying for the emotions to stay buried. Gathering my breath, I send my hand in again, grabbing onto a small jewelry box. I crack it open, a small cry escapes my lips. My parents' wedding bands. My mom's and dad's placed thereafter he died. It hurt my mom too much to have a daily reminder on her finger, so she locked away her love with her magic. I shake my head, placing it to the side, before sticking my hand in one last time, pulling out another leather-bound notebook: the final journal, the one I was praying existed. 

I flip the front cover open, a piece of paper flitting to the floor. I grab it as it falls, turning it over to see the delicate scribble of my name in my father's slanted handwriting. 

I swallow hard before unfolding the page. 

Felicity,

My love, you have been born into a world I wish I could keep from you, a world you met very naively. And a world that grows with you as you do every day. I'm sure when you're older, ten or so years from now, when you're ready, out of high school planning for college, the words will come easier, a conversation we can have as a family.