duplicate | elijah mikaelson

prologue.

here I am, standing on the edge of a roof watching as the world passes me by. My eyes watering in agony until my cheeks are waterlogged. From up there, it feels as though all of my problems can be solved with one subtle move.

I wasn't always this way. Yes, I've been alone for most of my life, but I'm strong. People used to say I was dangerous and when I would ask them why, they would respond, "Because you don't need anyone." And those people are correct, but Loneliness is a slow and silent killer. It creeps up on you before pouncing. 

People think that it's so easy to fix; find a friend, but that's not how it works. I have friends, but what I really want is to be cared for, someone that worries about me, somebody that loves me unconditionally.

 I've never had a family to call my own. I never had loving parents or a sibling to bicker with. All I had was foster home after foster home or dead-beat foster parents who were only after their monthly government checks. So yes, I'm used to being alone, but it slowly and silently murdered my spirit, and with that brought despair.

It flowed through my veins and deadened my mind. It was poison to my soul, dulling me, killing off my other emotions until it was the only one that remained. Its as if a black mist has settled upon me and refuses to shift, and no matter how bright the day is I can't feel the sun or hear the birds sing. For the world is lost to me and I know of nothing that would bring it back into focus. 

"Do you need help?" A voice asks from behind me. I slowly turn my head towards them, attempting to keep my balance. I don't reply, I just stare at him with tear-filled eyes, "I can help you" he says reaching his hand out to me. 

"I don't need your help," I retort, looking back down to the buzzing city below me. 

I hear a slight chuckle escape his throat, "Something tells me different." 

I throw my arms up, turn towards him and say "I'm not some damsel in distress that needs to be saved, so why don't you move along and be on with your day!" 

"I can't do that." His brow pulled together and a concerned look fell upon his face. 

I roll my eyes, as as I turn around I reply, "Well then, enjoy the view." 

"How old are you?" He questions.

I take a deep breath attempting to pull back my tears, "Seventeen." 

"You're young and have so much to live for, why don't you come down from there and let me help you."

I consider his words for a moment but dismiss them just a quick. He's a stranger, with a severe hero complex who is just doing his good deed of the day. He can't help me. Nobody can, I'm a lost cause. I can feel the sob building up In my throat, the sadness coming to the surface once again, I don't want to feel this way anymore. The sob breaks past my lips and causes my chest to jump, throwing my balance off. My foot slips over the edge, but before I can stumble over, the man is behind me in a flash and pulls me into his arms. 

I don't thank him or bother to ask how on earth he did that. I fall to my knees and I sob. Because in this moment I realise that I don't want to die. I only want to feel something other than pain. The man cradled me in his arms, shushing me quietly to console me as he strokes my hair.

After a while, I pull away from him and shakily pull myself up onto my feet, "Thank you." I mumble.

He nods his head and his lips pull up into a sympathetic smile, "I'm Marcel." 

I wipe the tears from my eyes, "Keira, Keira Fleming." 

Marcel looks down into my eyes "I meant what I said Keira, I want to help you. And I will, but only if you want me to," he says with a serious tone.

"Nothing you can do can help me." I whimper. 

Boy, was I wrong.