Bring Me To Life | The Originals (1)

Farewell to Storyville

The soft tick tock of the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the attic of St Anne's church and the faint muffled chatter from the French Quarter street beneath the open window were the only sounds Davina Claire could hear from where she was sitting on the centre of the four-post bed to the side of the improvised bedroom. 

Silence resonated throughout the attic, the heaviness settling on the shoulders of the young girl until it was a struggle for her to breathe without gasping for oxygen. One of her hands flew to her chest as she attempted to stop herself from hyperventilating, slowly inhaling and exhaling as she tried to even out her breathing. She could feel her lungs burning from lack of oxygen as she tears subconsciously sprung to her eyes and she squeezed them shut to stop herself from crying.

Memories of when she was little, lying alone in her darkened bedroom as the house grew suspiciously silent infiltrated her mind and she internally berated herself for not figuring what was going on right under her nose sooner than she had. She had been ten when she realised that the deadened silence was an indication of a privacy spell in effect and, being the curious child she was, she went in search of the reason someone was casting such a spell in the middle of the night. The hallway outside her bedroom door was pitch black but a sliver of light seeped out from under the partially closed door that led to her father's study, almost beckoning her forward as she tiptoed quietly down the corridor. She held her breath as she peeked through the small crack left open, her gaze immediately landing on her father's back and she frowned in confusion because she hadn't heard him come home that evening. Her lips pulled down at the corners in a frown when she saw someone's bare leg sprawled on the ground in front of her father and an almost inaudible horrified gasp escaped her when he stepped aside to reveal the familiar blue eyes of her older sister. Scarlet blood trickled from one side of her nose, coating her lips as she clutched her shoulder with one hand and the blood stood out against her pale skin as she looked up at their father with fear clear in her expression. Davina had never seen that type of horror on her sister's face before, the terror in Imogen's eyes was the most real thing she had ever seen. She watched with wide eyes as her father grasped Imogen's chin roughly in between his fingers, squeezing until the older girl cried out in pain and tears sprung to her eyes as she glared up at him with a burning hatred that was clear from across the room. The image of that slap still echoed through Davina's mind years later as she tried to fall asleep at night, the way her sister's formed a silent 'o' out of pain as her head snapped to the side and the blood that poured from her split lip as she collapsed onto the ground.

That night was the first time she experienced a panic attack. She had stumbled back to her bedroom as she gasped for breath, a sharp pinching on the left side of her chest but she didn't dare make a sound to alert anyone to her presence. She remembered lying alone in the dark as she struggled to breath, the minutes all running together in a blur of misery as she cried unabashed until she felt like she was about to blackout from lack of oxygen. One minute she was on the verge of passing out as she curled in on herself and the next Imogen was kneeling beside her prone body with a worried expression on her face, all of her wounds miraculously healed as though they'd never been there at all.

'Don't be afraid', Imogen's soothing voice rang through the young witch's mind as she brought her legs up to her chest in an effort to make herself as small as possible and she squeezed her eyes closed as she remembered her sister's previous instructions, 'Don't be afraid. It's just temporary. You've been through this before, you can do it again. Breathe. Don't forget to breathe. You can do this. In and out. Slowly. In and out. You got this, Pixie.'

Davina sighed in relief as the pressure on her chest released slightly when she followed her sister's advice, oxygen filling her lungs with an aching pleasure and she ran her shaking fingers through her limp brunette hair as she looked down at her lap with a frown on her lips.