Warm-Blooded | The Originals

𝟐𝟔 | 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲,

        𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘,

I normally don't write in these things because I never know what to say or I'm too lazy to write anymore than ten words. (Not to mention I've grown a habit of collecting notebooks because they're pretty. NOT because I wanna write in them) But...how does one start off?

Do I start from the beginning of time? Do I start with memories of the moment I first realized I existed in the world? Do I break the ice, set the tone, and start with the night I first lost my virginity to some kid who thought it'd be like porn? Or do I start with the time I missed when I was unconscious?

"You can write about anything, really," Cami told me. "Your dreams, your hopes, secrets about the people you love; the person you want to be when you grow up, the kind of future you wish to have. That's the beauty of keeping a journal. It's personal. It's real. It's you. And it's for no one else but your eyes." But I know she recommended the idea of starting a diary to cope with whatever trauma I've endured while Dahlia was around.

Truth is, I don't remember anything. Well...I remember everything. Most of everything.

Dahlia professing her desire to have me after brutally murdering six Crescent Pack wolves and confessing to them. One of those being Maman. My first kiss—not in general, but specifically—with Erik I still feel warm against my lips. And I hate it. The never-ending blushing part, I hate. Kidnapped during a terrible storm and experienced my first conscious kill through self-defense. Maman returning from the dead with the help of our dead ancestors who basically created the loophole so that I can exist for them. To keep their magic grounded to earth and our bloodline from extinction. I remember us attempting to escape the city from Dahlia only stopped by the excruciating pain of my bones breaking...and then nothing.

When I woke up the next morning, Dahlia was dead.

The Crescent Wolves had been cursed to their wolf-form leaving the full moon of every month the only night they're human again—which Dahlia planned. Marcel returned to his rightful title as King of The City. Aunt Bekah made plans to travel the world in search of a spell to resurrect Kol. Papa and Uncle E grew...cold? I've also met Aunt Freya. The long lost firstborn sister and my eldest aunt who appeared as though she stepped fresh out of the 1920s.

But...Maman is missing and no one knows where she went.

Maybe she was a ghost guiding me to safety after overhearing my rash plan to lure Dahlia out the city and murder her, and our ancestors knew I'd die and wasn't going to let that happen. Maybe it was my imagination. Recently, I've discovered my dreams are just as real as reality. I'd dream of her sitting beside me, humming a song she'd always play on Saturdays...but only she isn't there when I awake. Hopeless dreaming. But I know she was real, and she was there that night.

When I touched her, she was warm. When I hugged her, I could hear the rhythm of her heartbeat. Even Erik confirmed he met maman, but when papa found me, he said no one was there. Just me.

About a year has passed, and still, it was just me.

Between school, hanging with Quinn to forget the supernatural part of my life, magic training with Aunt Freya, driving to the Bayou with Uncle E (Uncle Elijah is a mouthful) to meet with Erik during the full moon, and overwhelmed by papa's constant attention, I guess you can say life is good. It's...well.

But it's missing something and I don't know what it is.

Maybe it's maman. Maybe it's my struggling identity as to where I fit in the world. Or maybe it's nothing and I'm just looking for an excuse, a push. That sudden motivation others get at 2 AM in the morning and suddenly their life is planned out piece by piece. That kind of push.

I have to remind myself that because I'm 18 (which was a huge ass party Papa threw me last July when I wanted something lowkey. And I was gifted an abundance of gifts from all of my family, most I still haven't used yet) in the middle of still being a kid and legally an adult, that I still have time to figure out my future and discover myself. As maman always said, "It's okay if you don't know yourself at eighteen. Even if you're thirty or fifty or even a hundred. You don't need to plan your life the moment you're eighteen, baby. You should focus on living now and having fun while you still have the time because once you become an adult, it can be hard to be a kid again. You have time". Just like I still have time to send out applications for college... some deadlines have been missed...

Last summer was a downer, but this summer I plan on making the most of it while I still can. And I won't allow anything to get in my way of 'living it up' as Quinn always says. I think because of her I've learned many new phrases, which is a blessing now. I was confused before and sometimes I still am.

Anyway, I'm not sure if there's a proper way to end this and my hand is getting tired. I have homework and a later shift at a café around the corner where this man always visits me and tips me twice as much as he consumes, but, he does say I'm the only who remembers his order and that I remind him of someone he knew. Though I'm pretty sure he's hitting on me or it's his cheeky accent and weird humor.

But I guess, until next time, or when Cami forces this notebook on me, or if I remember...

—ＤＥＥＮＡ

P.S. Quinn knows my secret. I had to tell her when she walked in on me practicing levitational magic because I was too lazy to stand and get my bag. Turns out the biggest hospital in the state has a history donating its blood to vampires. Specifically Marcel. She's taught stories of the supernatural communities since she learned to talk, and had a hunch with all the time I missed last year. She actually thought I was in trouble when Aunt Bekah picked me up from school. That I was her hostage, her personal blood bag. Never seen anyone as calm and collected and wildly interested in my life and supportive as Quinn. Guess that's New Orleans for you.