“He tore out my heart, you stood by and just watched!”
The lines between reality and fantasy blurred as my intense obsession with the Originals gained momentum. At first, I couldn’t understand my sudden attraction to the relationship between Marcel and Klaus. Blood thirst just hung in the air as night and day became one. Then one night, I walked the streets of New Orleans.
It wasn’t Marcel, Klaus and Elijah, on that deadly bridge. It was my sisters and I. Viciously, without a consideration they tore out my heart in one blood thirsty claw and in a mighty fling tossed me into the ocean whilst my mother watched coldly. Her lies clinging to her like a skin. I watched myself die to rise as the beast I was overwhelmed with guilty rage.
I was secretly harbouring, this subdued nightmare. It all ended quickly because my arrogant subconscious never misses an opportunity to mock gleefully. Secrets? Oh it wasn’t having none of that.
Like Marcel, I am breeding a silent, painful hurt. It’s not festering into hate or neither am I on a success binge to prove my worth. Instead, I am somewhere inside holding on to my pain. Pain that decided to find Marcel’s face. Pain that understood and felt his agony at his relationship with his vampire daddy. My pain though is eating away at my wellbeing. It is making me physically ill. This ocean of negativity trying to carve a home in my heart. In my resistance, I forgot to actually feel. Instead I clung onto sickness for survival. My worth a worthless reflection of my poor state of health. It was then I realised that I had never really spoken my truth. I hadn’t honestly ever owned how I felt about the way my mother had always treated me. I couldn’t take responsibility for my emotional self.
Finally, I had the chance. Unexpectedly, before his final departure Klaus accepted his failings as a father. Marcel, remained still. His silence strong. As I stood in their place, with my mother’s arrival, I surprised her. She never accepted her wrongdoings. Instead of her letting her walk away, I took her hand in mine. Brown eyes locked in intent. Then for the first time in my lifetime, my heart whispered.
“Mother, I have always loved you unconditionally. A devoted child, teenager, adult. All I ever wanted was to belong, to be accepted as your own biological child not for the fact that you gave me life but because I am who I am. I wanted you to love my soul. I cannot say I understand your actions. Perhaps, I no longer need too. I do not hate you for any of it. But for so long, I hurt inside because I felt abandoned, alienated, isolated and violated. You never looked, listened or cared about your actions and their implications. Not once, did you say I love you my child. And yes, you stood back, watching my heart being torn out so you could protect the lies you told. I do not hold this against you. I only hoped you would have known that I would have always protected you, if only you had asked. Thank you mother for I finally forgive and free us from this burden that I nurse in my heart.”
With that, in a mist of grey smoke, I disappear into midnight, trembling at my sad reality.
Goodnight vampires. May your blood thirst be sated.