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Gothic Klonnie 2k18

day 1: Oneirataxia: inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality

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I.
Sequelae

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*

His fingers
stick to her skin and wipe away the dry pearls of blood cluster on her wrist.
Pliant like her mind under his molding hands, her skin keeps the print of his
fingers. Bonnie has a distant look, and her body shivers at every caress of his
fingertips. Tears willed away, she is a mere shell of herself. Empty eyes stare
at nothing but a red stain on a Turkish or Persian rag. She can’t tell the
difference, but the red stain is taunting. The sight of that crimson bright
stain provokes a discomfort, which rises from the pit of her stomach.

Bonnie,
you’re not yourself. The whisper has grown loud, and she stares at the
stain on the rug. It starts to expand into sinuous path, which she wants to
follow.

Fingers close in a fist, and she resists the impulse
to pinch her thighs. Bonnie sits straight, and her back muscles strain in
disagreement. The night was harsh on her body, and her mind is a jigsaw puzzle.
She can’t remember much of the last hour, but her body doesn’t need the memories
to express the trauma.

“Haven’t
you taken it too far, brother?” Elijah soft voice fills the room, and his
face crowds Bonnie’s view.

She slowly
blinks until she erases his silhouette from her sight. Bonnie continues to
stare at the red stain on the rag. The red almost disappear in the brown and
magenta threads intricately knitted together, but Bonnie can make the underline
of that stain. The inappropriateness of that stain on the sophisticate rug
terrifies her, and she shivers. Bonnie blinks, and she averts her look. The
stain blurs, and she focuses on the muddy steps leading to the door. Bonnie
draws a shallow breath, and her lungs complain. A rough cough shakes her small
body. She coughs until her lungs rub against each other. She breathes again,
and it is soothing.

I
don’t think she is awake, Elena. The whisper become loud cries, and she
softly smiles.

Red stain and
muddy steps, her eye narrow on the rug. Slowly, her mind rearranges itself to
accommodate reality. The fog clears, but the whispers remain. For a long time,
she finds a refuge in the crevice of her boiling imagination and the red stain
on the rug. Perhaps, it is another hallucination. Her mind folds into multiple
layers, and she pushes away the remaining reality. Bonnie cannot deal with more
than the inappropriate presence of a red stain on a Turkish rug. The air is
warm when it goes down her throat, and it is comforting. Therefore, she
continues to take deep breath.

Bonnie gives
into the desire, and her finger stretches her supple skin. She pinches her
thigh until the pain is undeniable. She is awake, but it no longer means
anything. The pain is present, and the
sensation is real. However, her reality is distorted like a fantasy. She hears steps,
which her eyes can’t follow. She sees things, which her touch can’t feel. Bonnie tenses, and she closes her eyes to will
away the scene. Her fingers sink in her thighs, and she pinches harder.
Hallucination, it is nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Although,
the fingers holding on her arm feels so real. The cold grip has a soothing
effect, and she sighs with relief. She draws a shallow breath, and she tightly
closes her lids. In a few minutes, everything will disappears. Bonnie hopes as
she continues to close her lids tightly.

“Now, now,
we both know better, little witch.” His voice pierces through her attempts
to shut everything out.

He lifts her
head with a grip on her chin, and she gives into his touch. She does not need
to open her eyes to know what will follow. Bonnie opens her eyes to look for
him, but she must have imagined his presence. He never disappears so easily,
and she starts to panic. Closing her eyes never stops anything, and Bonnie knows
it. Bonnie furiously blinks, and she
pinches herself for good measure. Large
palms frame her face, and he drags her visage to the left. Green ultimately
faces light shade of blue. His fingers have the same stickiness than her body,
and the blood has started to dry on the upper corner of his lips. In a ghostly
manner, she feels her limbs move, but Bonnie’s mind only isolate the sensation
of his touch on her shivering skin.

“She
barely moves.” Elijah points out, and he joins Klaus in the crouching
posture. Their faces crowd her vision, but Bonnie focuses on Klaus’ delicate
features. His eyes take a golden shade, and red drops roll along the bridge of
his nose. His cold hands continue to stimulate her senses. He is not fictive,
but Bonnie is unsure of it. She focuses on detail, which her mind can never get
right. The arrogant smirk, which is inappropriate on his boyish feature. Joviality belongs on his face, but he prefers
haughtiness.

“Traumatic
events would do that to any sane mind, but she is not broken.” Klaus
argues while he twists Bonnie’s head to the left.

As compliant as
ever, she follows the motions. The honey in his voice lulls her into a quiet
state, and she continues to track the details, which would anchor her into
reality. His smile takes a new shape in her position, and Bonnie focuses on the
distortion of his visage. She reaches to grab his dusty jacket, and blood sock
the soft material. Her fingers curl around the collar, and Bonnie’s grip is
vicious. She needs a hold onto reality, and she should not let go of him. His
forefinger explores her neck, and he follows the sinuous path of her carotid.
His hand slides on the nape of her head. Hair tangles around his fingers. She sighs,
and she welcomes his caress.

“I surely
believe you went too far. She is catatonic.” Elijah insists, and he
attempts to touch her.

Bonnie flinches
and she is not open to every touch. Elijah moves away from Bonnie when her
magic starts to bubble and turns into a protective shield. His eyes fall on the
witch, and he takes in her appearance. Hair falling in perfect curls, body
hidden behind a silk baby doll, and every inch of her skin drenched in blood.
The magic continues to ooze from every pores of her being. She makes an
enticing image. However, she also appears to be absent.

Jeremy… the cries
surround her, and Bonnie’s mind isolates the sound. It is a hallucination. It is
a moment of psychosis.

“Have I
gone too far, love?” Klaus nonchalantly throws the question to her, and
she takes notices of his words.

However.
Silence is the only use of language, which she can presently muster. She
abruptly frees his collar, and her fingers slide under his loose Henley. Curiously, she explores inches of his skin,
and she settles on the edge of his heart. There is no warmth to Klaus’ skin,
but it sinks to accommodate her fingers. The tips of her finger dip in the
remaining blood around his neck, and she brings her finger to her eyes. She inspects
the blood coating her fingertips, and she intensely stares at her unblemished
palm.

“How long
will it take to break her out of this trance?” Elijah inquires as he eyes Klaus’
witch with undisguised interest.

Once again,
Klaus tilts Bonnie’s head. He continues to assess every inch of her with a
clinical precision. Bonnie’s eyes
dutifully follow him, and her hands continue to probe and pock his body. Elijah
stares at the pair with curiosity, but he does not voice his thoughts.

“I won’t
be able to offer an answer to your question because her state is not of my
doing. This is her masterpiece.” Klaus said with a hint of pride as he points
at the room with open arms.

Bonnie looks
around the room, but she does not see anything worth her interest. Klaus is the
only thing, which matters. Elijah looks at the room, and he never believed
Bonnie Bennett able of such carnage. After all, she has become Klaus’ witch,
and he should not be surprise to what length she went to secure Klaus’ safety. When
properties are concerned, worry is a normal emotion. Klaus continues to inspect
his witch, and he ignores Elijah for a second. Bonnie’s magic continues to burn
out. The Gilbert siblings continue to
decay on his expensive rug.

“She needs
a shower.” The change in topic is abrupt.

Elijah does not
know how to follow, and he stares at Klaus. However, Bonnie strained voice
saves him from an attempt to understand his brother sudden relaxed posture. The
Mikealson brother glances at the witch, and they wait for her to say more.

“Are you
real?” Bonnie questions with a hopeful whisper and her hands return to her
side.

Klaus leans
closer to her, and his nose caresses her cheek. Slowly, he closes the distance
between their lips, and his hot breath cools her feverish skin. He grabs her
hand and intertwines their Fingers.

“I’m here
as you wished me to be.” He passionately presses his lips to her, and Bonnie
returns his kiss in the best of her ability.

It is gauche,
and the feeling is different to the one, which she has come to know. Although, it
is more intense, but lack the scorching eagerness of a fantasy.

“Do you
remember what you did, little witch?” He questions her and Bonnie frowns.

Her memories
are blurry, and she does not know what is real or not. He is real, and she
holds on his body with hope. Klaus no longer inhibits her mind. Her fantasies
are no longer his haven. She stares at her unblemished palms and turns her hand
to face the bloody back. The whispers have turned into scream, and the memories
abruptly disappear. Klaus’ eyes fill her sigh once again. He is real, and the
rest is fictive. Bonnie pinches herself to recover from the hallucination.

“I…”
She hesitates and timidly looks into his eyes.

“I’m not
sure.” Bonnie finishes, and Klaus
softly smiles. He takes hold of Bonnie’s hand and kisses her knuckles.

“Should I
tell you?”

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Gothic Klonnie 2k18