Notes: I'm still working on my other story, but since it'll take some time (I always want to finish a major story-arc before I publish the chapters, so that I can edit etc.) and I was annoying myself with all the back and forth, I wrote a quick drabble. Feel free to tell me if it sucks, or if it's good. Reviews always make me happy! (or motivate me, or both)
Disclaimer: Own nothing but my ideas.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
Caroline was laying beside him, playing her fingers along the pillow's seam, silently assessing him. Klaus had been sitting on the bed for an hour now, staring into a half-empty glass of bourbon.
"I don't know where to start," he said, finally. He didn't want to start. He didn't want to feel defensive for what he had done in the past, he didn't want to be judged, or fall into one of his tantrums again. A thousand years of living the life he did, there was no way to explain what he felt: Angry, desperate, insane. He even hated how he verbalized the multitude of ambivalent feelings of his, because it wasn't really a "getting through life by ignoring his conscience", or "holding onto outdated beliefs", though all those things were parts of him.
Caroline shifted, and he knew she was staring at the back of his head. He didn't want to look her in the eye. He wanted to get this situation under control again, somehow guilt-trip her into accepting everything, forgiving everything, without even knowing of it's existence. Even contemplating it, he felt rage surfacing: Wasn't he entitled to be loved like everyone else on this planet was? Why couldn't she love him regardless of what he was, not knowing what he did? Why couldn't she love him for what he was? It didn't matter that he saw how unreasonable all those thoughts were. If at all, they made him even angrier. But he had to start, somehow.
"I don't remember how the people in my village looked like," he started. "I don't remember my first kill. But the first human I killed and still remember.. Her name was Ceri. She was a mother and wife. Her husband annoyed me, so I killed her and her unborn child, then their children. Then I compelled him into confessing the murders.."
He kept on, confessing murder after murder, not daring to look at Caroline, trying to listen to his voice, only, so he wouldn't hear her, except if she left. And the fates laughed at him, because she didn't leave, and he couldn't stop, now, that he had started. Like a compulsion, so many things spilled out of him, some he had almost forgotten and only remembered because he associated one murder with another. Cutting a woman's wrists in the 14th century and letting her bleed out on the market reminded him of the time he made a man slice parts of his arm off, and then join the ball again in the 18-hundreds. Cruel things, sick things, psychotic things.
He realized that his voice never changed. He knew he was scaring her off for good, and he was quite certain she was fighting the urge to vomit. When he heard her sniff, he finally stopped. He didn't know why he wasn't able before, though he suspected it was his own perverse mind that forbade him to. Glory in pain and despair, and all those things.
While talking he had looked at the walls, the floor, his trousers or hands, but now he slowly turned to her. She had sat up during his confession, and was looking straight at him, still. He wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes, though. For the first time, he had absolutely no clue.
If you know how she'd react, feel free to PM me or write a drabble in response. In order to get the chapters of my WiP done, I'm trying *real* hard to avoid Caroline-ish thoughts, so I had to stop there. ;) I actually have another, very similiar, yet completely different story in mind, but I can't see Caroline doing what the person in the fic does, so that's really unfortunate.. Hm. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the premiere, and that you're all having a fabulous week! :) Talk to me on tumblr - lowfactory.