ACHILLES' HEEL ▷ KOL MIKAELSON [2] [COMPLETED]

𝟏𝟕. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

(CHAPTER SEVENTEEN :
STATE OF GRACE)

✧࿐ ཾ✧

TENDERLY, I TOUCHED MY lips, the aftertaste of Kol Mikaelson lingering. It was in that moment I knew a love as strong as ours could never disappear — it didn't dissolve into dust one day, never to be seen again. As a vampire, I ran from that love because it made me feel exposed and vulnerable. When I was presented with supernatural abilities, it seemed the narrative of the superior, ferocious predator was thrusted onto me. After all these years, it was liberating to have finally found inner peace with my emotions. In accepting my feelings for Kol, I reached a state of grace. Nothing could be better, I was potentially being selfish in disregarding the judgement of my friends, but in being so, I was finally free.

With freedom came courage, courage to make the first move. Although I walked away from him seconds earlier, the thought of him made my knees buckle. I wanted to make the first move, show him how serious I was. If he wanted to wait, I would, but a part of me didn't want him to assume my sudden actions were a result of a delirious outburst. The paranoid part of me wanted to give both of us reassurance what happened was real. With that as my driving force, I snapped my eyelids shut in concentration and searched for his voice in the high school. Rooting through the various conversations, I located his distinctive accent within seconds. Relying on my vampire senses, I followed the familiar sound and frowned when I stopped outside of a custodial closet. Of all places, why a custodial closet?

"Where is the cure?!" Kol interrogated, a foreign harshness invading his tone. It had been a long time since I heard him speak in such a brusque, demanding manner. Upon hearing his shouts, I burst through the door to see the Original drowning a man. On impulse, I slackened my jaw as I watched the repeated violence of the brunette vampire forcing an older man's head into a sink.

I couldn't control the way my features my features contorted, twisting into disgust. "Kol, stop that! What the hell are you doing?" I frantically questioned. Something like this wasn't new to me, but death was one thing I never grew accustomed to — as much of it as I caused and experienced.

Ignoring me, Kol ripped the man's head out of the water before yanking it back into the sink again. More force was exerted into each push and pull as he repeated the movement several times, the intervals between the man being in and out the water growing smaller and smaller. Briefly, my pupils extended when I recognised the face of the vampire's victim — 'Professor Strange' from the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. Better known as, Atticus Shane. 

"I—I know him." I spluttered, my voice pleading. Even if I barely knew the man, I didn't want him to die at the hands of Kol Mikaelson because — although I would raise my hands and admit I was no saint — this was somebody with a career that had the power to evoke change. Since my no humanity bend, my guilty conscious had intensified and I was more inclined to play the role of the moral monster than ever before.