chapter forty

dead girls don't cry

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Dark, eerie mist settled along the floor, spreading like a disease, It was a horribly cliché thing . . . the dark, gloomy horror movie setting she was stuck in. But that's exactly what it was, a horror movie planted in her mind, just for her.

And everyone knows how horror movies go, a killer, a victim. Was she the victim in this movie? The helpless girl who fought her way through it, losing many things along the way  . . . and in Jordanna's case, that was her sanity. Or was she the perpetrator?  The one behind it all, running after the victim, bloodied knife in clutch, waiting to attack.

I guess you could say she was both.

Both villain and hero in her own torment chamber.  But the main antagonist of her story? That spot was specially saved for Klaus Mikaelson himself. Even though the torturous images and movies of his desiccated, crisp to the brim, body had stopped, she still saw it. She longed for it to end, the pain—she longed to see his face as the one she fell in love with, not this imposter taking form in his body.

Even now his pretty blue, ocean eyes tormented her. He stood beside her, mocking her. But it was all simply in her head, he wasn't there, she knew that, but it didn't end—even though she knew that it was just a figment of her imagination.

If she blinked, he'd disappear, giving her a solace—but that only lasted a mere second before he showed up again, carrying on the torment, the decaying body following her around like a dog with a bone. And in this instance, she was the bone. The Klaus her mind had conjured up, he was the dog ( go figure ). Once he caught her in his grasp, he'd bite down, hard.

The words that left his lips, the tortured screams that reverberated through his mouth as the golden ember's of heat graced his skin, the hand that once used to comfort her, hold her gently, gripped to her like a vice, taking away her breath as she stared into the blue eyes that she adored ever-so-much.

She knew it all wasn't real, but that's what scared her. That it felt so real. Her punishment for being an 'abomination', a 'disgrace' to the spirits, was slowly working—tearing into her with time, and it hurt. It hurt her. It made her feel weak, disappointed in herself, even.

But still, she held up a front, no matter what she felt, or how she felt whenever that presence was around her, she'd flinch, waiting . . . waiting for him to do something. She never ever let her guard down.

That's why when she saw those people from her past, those few faces she recognised, others she didn't, it helped her. Because there was only a few things that could keep her mind away from the torment, even momentarily, and that was pain.

Not her own, theirs.

Yes, they might've been there to torment her, hurt her in the ways that she had hurt them, but no matter the cause, no matter what happened in the end, Jordanna saved her own ass, she was the only one who could, and so she turned the tables onto those ( sorta' ) familiar faces.

Jordanna's pale complexion glanced down at the man in front of her, his wrists bound in chains that hung from the never ending ceiling, if she looked up it was like staring into an abyss.

"I thought you were dead or something," the man from her past stated tiredly. Over the past six months he kept checking on her, waiting on her to move so he could make his move—but she merely laid there, harshly fidgeting, to him it looked like she was having a bad dream, but to Jordanna . . . God, she wished it was a bad dream.

The Jones pursed her chapped lips, lifting the hand that clutched a crimson knife, she wiped the back of her hand against the sweat on her forehead. So much for she doesn't sweat. Her gaze flitted around the dark . . . room? She still wasn't entirely sure of where she was, all she could give you was one word.

Hell.

Her eyes fell upon the man as he lifted his head, silently raising his brows as her blank face stared back at him. "So did I," she hummed in answer, taking a small step forward. "Sad really," her tone was blunt before she drove the knife into his torso, a delicate, hand clutched his shoulder as she twisted the knife, tearing apart the organs that resided in his body. "But I'm over it."

Now I know, I know. She may not seem . . . effected by those past six months, but trust me, she was. After many years of having to face off with her father she learnt to deal with it alone, when no one can see you, when no one can see you being weak—she knew that if a single person here saw her as weak she was done for, after all, there were vampires here years older than herself, the only way she had managed to kill them was with her magic, and she didn't have that at the minute, quite fickle if you ask me.

The man from her past grunted, hissing sharply, "Y'know, when the spirits came and asked if I wanted to get your ass back, I didn't imagine it going quite like this."

She internally rolled her eyes at the mere mention of the spirits. "They said we'd scare you into ending it," he let out a pained, dry laugh. "Gonna be honest here, I don't think it's working out."

Jordanna blinked. She hadn't a clue as to who this man was and why he was here, if he was here then she must've done something to him. "Who are you?" She asked blankly, exhaustion coaxed her tone. The man scoffed as she squinted her eyes at his dishevelled figure. "Yeah, no. I don't recognise you, you're gonna have to give me a few hints, cupcake."

"You killed my sister."

"Okay?"

"Then I tried to kill you."

"Right . . . "

"And then you killed me," he cleared his throat.

"Got it . . . so, bag of bones sister," she listed off on her hand before pointing to herself, "failed bag of bones," her finger thrusted out in his direction, "bag of bones."

"That's about it . . .  I think."

"Great," she clasped her hands together, exhaling deeply. "I'm all caught up."

And that's how she did it. Hiding how she felt behind inflicting pain upon others and humour ( her two specialties ). It was quite easy, you see, Jordanna was always the one who never cried, the one who, ultimately, never felt a thing, she wasn't expected to, Anastasia's death was an exception.

Maybe a few years ago, she would've been able to take it—but she had changed since then. Everything had changed since then.

Her body tensed all of a sudden as her grip on the knife grew tighter, her skin turning white at the harsh hold on the handle.

"Jordanna," his voice called out tauntingly, sending Goosebumps across her body—not the ones she'd usually get when near Klaus, no. The bad ones, the ones that sent fear coursing down your body and through your spine.

Her hand shot out as she screamed out, throwing the knife in his direction. Her demands of him to leave her alone flew past his ears as he looked down at the knife embedded in his abdomen and a greyed, desiccated hand grasped it and pulled it from his body.

He tutted, dropping the knife to the floor as he approached her. His hand grasped the side of her neck as he smiled down menacingly at her. "I'm going to miss this when you wake up, love." She swallowed roughly, how could he ( it! ) make that word sound so . . . awful? "But I'm afraid our time is up for now, that pesky Mikaelson sister won't stop interfering. It's a shame really, we were having fun, weren't we? Oh, I do hope you come see me again."

She flinched as his hand brushed back a piece of flat, dull hair from her forehead. Her hands numbly shook beside her as she felt his rough palms skim along down to her neck and she had to remind herself as she recoiled from his touch that this was not Klaus, this wasn't Nik.

"Goodbye, sweetheart."

And before she even had chance to grimace at the familiar words, she felt a sharp slice run along her neck, her eyes grew wide as her hands instinctively rose, clutching at her neck as she choked—crimson splashed everywhere as her knees gave out and she fell to the floor.

Her hands slowly dropped from the torn skin before her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

    KLAUS HAD SPIRALLED out during the past six months, Elijah's words, not his. He wouldn't exactly say that he was 'spiralling', but rather doing good to honour . . . avenge Jordanna.

    So what if he had killed a few witches here and there? They didn't have the answers that he needed and it infuriated him. Freya hadn't a clue as how to help her, no matter what spell she tried on the Jones, Jordanna never batted an eyelash, she just laid there, still.

Though Freya had yet to form a friendship with Jordanna like she wished they could, she was still trying everything in her power to wake the Jones—for her family, for Klaus. No one had realised that the Jones was the glue that held everything together, and without her here, it wasn't the same.

Hayley was barely seen in the compound anymore, she was always turning into her wolf-form to explore the Bayou with her husband—whilst coming back to check on Sebastian every now and then, ensuring that when ( if ) Jordanna woke up, she wouldn't have missed a thing. When Sebastian turned one and it hit the one year mark of Anastasia's death, Hayley took a stroll with Sebastian, taking him to that tree Jordanna told her about in the field littered with those bright yellow flowers, they laid out fresh flowers under the engraved markings on the tree and returned to the compound to celebrate the youngest Mikaelson member's birthday.

    Where in which, of course, she forced all the Mikaelsons ( yes, even Klaus himself ), to wear party hats. She even snuck a few pictures for Jordanna as she knew she'd like them, well, she did it because she knew Jordanna would tease Klaus about it forever.

But other than that? Hayley wasn't around much, only when it concerned Sebastian—sometimes she'd check in on Klaus too, though they didn't agree on much ( anything ), she had to make sure that he was okay, for Jordanna's sake. And even though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, let alone herself, she did care for the dirty blond Mikaelson—sometimes she even saw him as a friend.

Elijah, on the other hand, he longed to see Hayley. With her marriage to Jackson, he barely saw her—and he had come to realisation, the only reason the Marshall-Kenner woman stuck around lately was for Jordanna. And he thanked her for that, though she wasn't awake to hear it. He did miss her, as much as they disagreed on some aspects, he always held a fondness for her, he cherished how she let him and his family in without question, without so much as judging them. And as much as he would complain and tell her to stop, sometimes he even found himself missing that disgusting, incessant smell of tobacco.

And her friends from Mystic Falls, God they didn't know how to act. When Stefan got a phone call from his old 'friend' Klaus, he was confused, worried even—and the pit in the bottom of his stomach didn't help, it didn't help him at all. He just remember sitting down after the call ended and a lone tear shed from his eye. He missed the times where she would incessantly text him all day everyday, bothering him with all the drama going on in New Orleans. He missed her sending him links to shoes that she liked—hinting at him to get them for her, he missed her bossing him around. He just missed his best friend, his sister.

He found no joy in having to inform Caroline or Bonnie. Bonnie was hopeful, it was Jordanna, she didn't just die, she was like a cockroach, she just kept coming back every damn time, no matter how much you try. She tried home remedies, herbs, to see what could wake her, she even went over to Jordanna's old family house, searching through Mary's diaries in search of something, but it all came up empty.

Caroline didn't know what to believe. After the first month, she did have hope, because her best friend wouldn't just give up, not without a damn fight, and she knew that Jordanna had a lot of fight left in her. But then as time went on her hope slowly diminished, running out like an hourglass, until there was nothing left to hold onto, she tried to accept that her best friend was gone, but she couldn't.

Klaus convinced himself he was getting used to it, not having her around, but he was only lying to himself—everyone else knew that he didn't know what to do, how to act without her presence. But he had help, strangely enough. He had found solace in Naomi, she didn't judge his actions, she merely sat down with him and talked, listening as he talked about Jordanna for hours on end, never stopping to take a break, never stopping to think for another thing to say—he just talked.

In his one thousand years he couldn't really say he had a 'best friend', no, he would roll his eyes upon the childish term, but Naomi? He would consider as a best friend. Yes, in the twenties he had Stefan, and he and Marcel had his ups and downs, but Naomi didn't want anything from him. She just comforted him in his time of need. She even dragged Cami out to see his art exhibition with her—as much as the blonde protested against it. But the Tate vampire knew that he feared no one would show up.

Jordanna would've, she would've been his number one fan.

As Klaus wandered out of the living room, where he left Sebastian to play with Hayley, he glanced over at the room where an unresponsive Jordanna laid—he started to make his way over before he came to a stop.

    A frown etched on his features as he spun on his heals, if she wasn't moving this morning, why would she now? There'd be no change, and he thought to save himself the heartache of having that small, inkling of hope disappear. It was always the same anyway, her hair laid out around her like a crown—from when Sebastian would find entertainment in messing with it—her skin glowed porcelain, clear as a nights sky, her nails in desperate need of a manicure and her chapped lips shone pink in the moonlight.

    In the room where Jordanna's body resided, it was quiet, so quite that you could hear a pin drop or the howl of the wind brushing in through the open curtains. So abnormally quiet, in fact, it was quieter than usual. Normally, you'd hear the creak of the floorboards when someone entered the room, sitting to talk to the Jones—or the rustle of the bedsheets from where Sebastian would sit on the bed and play around with his mother's hair.

    But that lingering silence that occurred was soon to seep through the floorboard like sunlight seeping through curtains. The howl of the wind grew louder, stronger, causing the curtains to rise, floating from the large sudden winds.

    And then it happened, there it was, that single twitch of a finger. A choked gasp left the Jones' body as she tried to catch her breath for the first time in six months, her hands immediately reached for her neck, fingers fumbling as she tried to place that jagged scar that 'Klaus' left on her neck, only finding nothing.

    The vampire slowly pushed her body up from the soft mattress, her seemingly grown hair fell down from her face before she pushed it back with trembling hands. She stumbled, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her as she came to a stand.

    The Jones dragged her body over to the familiar dresser, where a mirror sat atop it. Her fingers skimmed over Klaus' necklace hesitantly, which he soon put back on her after that night, pushing the necklace aside her fingertips trailed over the faint red line that ran across her neck. A faint red line that wasn't there mere hours ago when Klaus came to check on her.

    Her mind was racing, how long had it been? To Jordanna, it felt like an eternity, like she was stuck in slow-motion, a never ending live action film. She couldn't tell if it had been years or weeks or a simple two days; because nothing had changed, her gaze travelled around the room and nothing was different ( other than the fact that it was clean, her shoes weren't scattered around the room, no they were neatly lined up in the bottom of the open wardrobe ).

    The Jones slowly, yet reluctantly, made her way over to the shut door, her hands clasped the doorknob in her grip before she paused. Was this just another trick to bring her hopes up? She wouldn't be able to tell you how many times her mind would make her think she had woken up, only for her to be greeted with the version of Klaus she didn't want. Sometimes it'd be her mother waiting for her, all bloodied up like she was the night she died.

    The vampire inhaled deeply and pulled the door open, her breath stopped as she waited a moment for something to come at her. But nothing did. Her sock clad feet walked out into the hallway, her eyes drifted around the empty compound as she glanced down below the railing, where she saw Freya stood, mouth agape as she stared up in Jordanna's direction.

    "Jordanna?" The eldest Mikaelson sibling spoke, a shocked look coaxed her face as a surprised Jackson came to a stand besides her. Freya was in utter shock, the spell had worked? Last night she preformed one last spell on the vampire, it was different to all the others, it was harder, the ingredients were harder to find—but she found them.

    And now Jordanna was awake.

    Jordanna's heart slowed in relaxation as she came to a realisation that it was real. She was awake after what felt like a slowed eternity.

    From her place in the living room with Sebastian, Hayley's ears perked as her heightened hearing picked up on the words that uttered Freya's lips and the sound of an extra heart beat. She raced out of the room, using her vamp-speed to land herself in the same hallway that Jordanna stood.

    A short, quiet gasp left the Marshall-Kenner's mouth as her eyes fell on her friend. "Jords," Hayley muttered, a small smile pulling at her lips as she stared at the younger woman in front of her.

   Words had yet to leave Jordanna's mouth. She feared that it wasn't real, but still, she knew it was. But sometimes it felt so damn real she could never tell the difference, what if it was a trick?

    The sound of an extra set of footfalls sounded in the Jones' ears, Jordanna internally winced at the loud noise—she had forgotten what it felt like, the heightened senses, it felt like it did when she first turned that very year ago.

    "Jordanna?"

    Her face fell, body tensing as she turned at the sound of his voice. As her eyes met his her body tensed, there he stood, the Klaus she knew. His hair had grown slightly longer, little curls formed in the blond locks and his eyes seemed sad, almost.

    But that sadness swept away like a wave washing away on shore. He stood for a moment, shock evident on his face. His eyes solely on Jordanna—he hadn't averted his gaze, not even glancing away for a mere second when Elijah suddenly entered the compound.

    Unbeknown to him, Klaus' feet started moving at their own accord, his body sauntered across the room until he stopped in front of her. His breath hitched as his waterline filled with tears that he wouldn't let free before his arms wrapped around the Jones in a tight hug as he held her to his chest.

    Jordanna tensed under the pressure of his body against hers, she felt like she was suffocating, like she was stuck in that nightmare again, she couldn't breath.

    As Klaus pulled away, his hands cupped her face as she was yet to release a word. He stared down at her, relishing in the moment as his eyes flickered over her face before they landed on that faint red line on her neck, he frowned.

    Was this real? Was the question running through the Jones' mind as she stared up at him before, unfortunately for her, she saw it again. Her mind began to mess with her, that never ending game would never end. She blinked, trying to rid the image of a desiccated smirking Klaus from her head, but he was yet to move, he was just taunting her with his stare, reminding her of the hell she had endured. Jordanna pulled back, swallowing roughly as she averted her gaze from him.

    So she took a breath to calm herself down, letting the rabid, mocking voice in her head die down to a dull whisper when she finally met his eye again, more sure this time as she pushed away the mocking face and settled on the one she knew.

    "Hi Nik." Her voice cracked dryly, having not spoken for six months her throat was sore. A small smile tugged at her chapped lips as it finally settled in her mind. It was Nik. All of a sudden, she threw her arms around him, gripping onto him like a vice as she sighed in the comfort of his arms.

    Klaus' eyes shut in content as he pulled her closer upon feeling her trembling hands around him. Freya and Elijah exchanged a soft smile before their eyes rested on their brother and Jordanna.

    The latter didn't want to let go of the Mikaelson. What if she let go only to find that the face staring back at her wasn't him? But she let go anyway, hoping, wishing that she would see what she wanted, and for once, she did.

    Her hand rested on his face as she glanced up at him through teary eyes. God, she missed him. Klaus smiled down at her before his eyes drifted off to somewhere behind her, the Jones turned, following his gaze before her lips parted as her sights set on the small child stood in the doorway.

    Sebastian stood, holding that damned haunted teddy in his hands as he glanced up at his mother with big eyes, a smile rested on his lips around his pacifier.

    A shaking hand came up, covering her mouth as she stared at her son in shock. She crouched down, holding her arms out to him as he slowly ran to her, more like waddled.

    "You're walking already?" She managed to form a small sentence, shock coaxed her voice as she hugged his small body to her own. "Oh God, Sebby. You're so big now, aren't you?"

    Jordanna swallowed back unreleased tears. She missed so much, so much. What else had she missed? His first word? And what the hell happened with Dahlia?

    Upon her questioning thoughts she turned her head, meeting Klaus' eye as she recited that same question that ran through her head, "What the hell happened with Dahlia? Is she gone?"

    Klaus sighed, moving towards her slowly, he held a hand out to her, which she took as he pulled her up.

    "Come on, I'll fill you in sweetheart."

    Jordanna pushed away that familiar grimace at the word but soon reminded herself that it was okay. It was real and she was fine.

    She nodded in answer, moving to pick up Sebastian before she followed after Klaus.

AUTHOR'S NOTE !
this season will finally give u all what you've been waiting for ..... THE BLUE MF DRESS!!

ORIGINALLy i was gonna make them fight, yk like hayley and klaus did, except jj would be fighting cos she thought it wasn't real but i was too lazy to write it and this chapter already took me too pissing long to finish

but then again im kinda glad i didn't cos they get a cute reunion before erm jj's trauma fucks with her head xx