Highway To Hell ━ elena gilbert [1] ✔

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦－𝑡𝑤𝑜

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Demons Escape Hell, Leaving A Psychic Hunter To Deal With Them

A vibrant green glow settled in the irises of her eyes. Her hands snapped the neck of the monster. An unsettling grin rested on her face. The palms of her hands were decorated with the crimson colour of blood. The axe that was previously within her grip was now placed on the floor.

    Preston wasn't in Mystic Falls anymore, and her brothers were off on another hunting trip. There was no one there that she knew. It was only her and the now dead monster. No remorse, no guilt, not a single ounce of feeling was found in her soul.

    She wiped the remaining blood off of her face, and went to grab the bottle of whiskey. Preston stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the footsteps. She turned around, eyes narrowing at the stranger.

    "If it isn't the hunter..." He started.

    "Who the fuck are you?" Preston questioned.

    He tilted his head, sitting on the wooden chair. His elbow was propped up on his left knee. "Kol Mikaelson, Original vampire." He introduced.

    "Preston Winchester, tired of your bullshit." She responded. "The hell are you doing here?" She questioned, opening the bottle of whiskey.

    Kol took a deep breath, "we need to talk—"

    "No, you want to talk... I need you to leave. And you're going to, or I'm gonna drag your ass outside myself." She told him.

    Getting frustrated, he rested his face on his hand. "I can help you understand the visions, just—"

    "Listen, I don't want your help, I don't need your help... And to put it simply, I don't like you. And I'm sure as hell not making a deal with you."

    "Elena Gilbert thinks you died. Again."

    "Technically, I did die again." She answered, walking away from him.

    "You know you're not just a clairvoyant... your powers are more intense. There's more to you and your life than you think." Kol told her. It made her stop, but she didn't dare bring herself to look at him. Deep down, she knew he was right. "A psychic, witch, magic wielder, call it what you will. I did have magic..."

    "I know you have your own issues, but right now, I don't give a flying rat's ass." She crossed her arms.

    Without saying a word, he left. Her finger hovered over Elena in her contacts. She sighed before clicking the call button.

    "Preston? You're alive! Wait— where are you?"

    She wanted to tell Elena, she really did. But, she wouldn't be able to look Elena in the eye and tell her what she did. On the other hand, she couldn't lie to Elena. "New Orleans."

    "You're in New Orleans? Why?"

"If I tell you, you'll hate me. If you find out what I did..."

"Everyone goes through rough patches, Preston. I won't hate you, just please tell me."

"I might have gone on a small murder spree. They were souls who escaped from Hell. I tortured them." She was gonna leave out the details of no guilt, no shame, no remorse for the felony she committed.

"You can come back. Screw what the demons escaping Hell will do..." Preston wanted to, but she couldn't. A small ounce of her soul ached to play the twisted hero.

"I'll be back soon, love, I promise." It wasn't an empty promise. She'd be back there in no time. The call ended, and Preston tilted her head up to the sky as her back was against the old brick wall.

She found herself walking out to the balcony. She knew Kol had returned back to Mystic Falls. From the balcony, she watched Marcel and his army of vampires stride through the streets of the Quarter. Preston was alone, all she could hear was the chants from everyone down below.

She didn't need Marcel to interrogate her, that's why she didn't feel like having Kol stick around. Preston was well aware of the rules and regulations.

Preston knew that she'd be labelled as a monster, a soulless psychic, both by people she cared about. But when she had her mind set on something, there was no stopping her. Maybe a part of her wanted to feel important, and it was working, even if no one knew. She narrowed her eyes as the demon appeared, surrounded by a usual cloud of black smoke and fog.

She snuck behind it, grabbing the demon blade. Right where the heart would be, then cut off the head. Same old routine. The blood splattered onto her face and clothes, and a little bit got on the hardwood floor. One week. That's what she texted to Elena, her girlfriend. She'd be out of New Orleans in one week.

After that, if there were demons summoned and popping up from Hell, it wasn't her problem or mess to deal with.

Welcome to Act Three: Preston hunts demons that escaped from Hell.

She's a little psychic hunter that needs validation.

Okay, bye!