Redeem Me {Klaus Mikaelson}

The Nightmare

I am running. I am always running. The forest is dark and damp, and my bare feet sink into the soft ground. It's cold, mid autumn, my breath fans out in front of me, soft puffy clouds. The trees are bare, their jagged branches reaching towards the moon. Which is hidden behind a mass of dark clouds. I am always running. Over and over again, repeating the same cycle. A left then a right, then I trip. A large uprooted root, grabbing my ankle and pulling me to the ground. Mud smearing against my hands and knees; panicking to get to my feet. A rough hand on the back of my neck; the rush of the wind as I fly backwards. My head slamming against the tree; and those disgusting worn black boots.

I quickly sit up my chest rising and falling in heavy breathes, coated in a thin layer of cold sweat. My heart pounding against my ribs, racing in my ears. A hand on my shoulder causes me to jump, quickly pushing against the figure in front of me. Lips moving in silent motion, a rougher grip on my shoulders, hazel eyes meeting mine.

"Serena!" I squeeze my eyes shut as his voice drifts to my ears. "I'm right here, alright? You're okay."

I let out a deep breath, his quiet murmuring soothing my frantic heartbeat. Rough fingers brushing against my cheek and ear as he pushes my hair back.

"It's okay. It's okay. You're okay."

His dark hazel eyes intently watch me, listening for my heartbeat to return to normal. He roughly pulls me against his chest, rubbing my back in a soothing manner. I fall limp into his shoulder, exhausting from my awful nightmare.

"The nightmare?"

I faintly nod, still unable to find my words. He hugs me tighter.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

He holds me for a moment, gently swaying back and forth. After a few minutes I pull back, brushing the tears off my cheeks.

"Sorry." I mumble, peering up at him.

His hazel eyes stare down at me, dark brown rings speckled with green and yellow, two enchanting forests at sunrise. His broad shoulders are slightly tense, large biceps peaking out from under his grey t-shirt. His brown hair messily fanning out below his jaw. His square jaw peppered with stubble. His triangular chin juts slightly to the left, as his pink lips press into a hard line. His small nose scrunches up, as lines crease his slightly large forehead.

"You have nothing to apologize for." He states in a flat tone. His voice low and husky.

A silence drifts around us, as I study the lines on the palm of my hand.

"Is it because of your birthday next week?" He questions, even though he already knows the answer.

"Yeah." I pause looking up at him. "Marcus, I'm sorry."

"I told you, you have nothing to be sorry for." He places a firm hand on my shoulder giving me a small smile. His smile falls, as he gives me a serious look. "This nightmare, it's resurfacing-"

"Look, after next week I'll be good as new." I quickly state.

He squints his giving me a hard stare. "This happens every year, you were taken around this time weren't you?"

I stare down at my hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Serena." He states in a gently voice, placing his hands over mine. "You've been with us for almost three years now, we will never let anything happen to you."

"I know." I state quietly.

"Then why don't you trust us?"

"I do trust you guys Marcus, it's just- I want to move on. Be able to live a normal life."

He lets out a small chuckle. "Then you're hanging out with the wrong crowd sweetheart."

I give him a small smile. "I don't think so."

He pats my shoulder, getting to his feet. "You should go get ready."

I stare up at him in confusion. "For what."

"We are going out tonight." He states with a smile.

"Oh no, Marcus I-"

He holds his hand up. "It's not up to me."

I groan falling back against the couch. "Where is he?"

"He is out picking up your favorite takeout, he wants you to get out."

"Well I don't want to." I mumble.

"Well you have to, he says it'll be good for you."

"It will be good for you." He states setting a bag on the coffee table.

Marcus gives me a smirk, quickly leaving the room.

"Now dig in, then go get ready, something formal, elegant, sexy."

"Jared." I whine.

"Ah, no whining, you are not getting out of this."