Chapter Text
Chapter Four: Walls Rebuilt
The next morning, I woke up feeling worse than before.
I should’ve felt lighter after last night—after the confrontation, after Hayley held me like I was something worth holding. But instead, the weight in my chest had only gotten heavier.
I laid in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling, feeling raw and exposed.
I hated it.
I hated that they saw me like that.
Weak.
I shoved the blanket off and sat up quickly, as if moving would shake the feeling off. But it stuck, clinging to my skin like a second layer, and I hated it.
They thought they could help me. That I was something fixable.
I knew better.
By the time I made my way downstairs, the compound was already awake. Rebekah sat on the couch, flipping through an old book, though I could tell she was only half paying attention to it. Freya was at the dining table, scribbling something into a notebook. Hayley stood near the kitchen, sipping coffee.
All three of them looked up the second I stepped into the room.
I immediately regretted coming downstairs.
Their expressions weren’t pitying, but they were watching me. Waiting.
I clenched my jaw. “What?”
Hayley set her mug down. “We were just talking.”
“Great. Don’t let me interrupt.” I turned toward the front door.
“Hope,” Freya called, her voice careful.
I stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Where are you going?”
I exhaled sharply. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Rebekah said simply.
I clenched my fists.
This was exactly why I shouldn’t have let my guard down.
They thought one moment of vulnerability meant I was suddenly an open book. That I was suddenly going to let them in.
They didn’t understand.
I couldn’t let them in.
Because if I did—if I started depending on them, started believing I could lean on them—what would happen when they realized I wasn’t worth saving?
When they gave up on me, just like everyone else eventually did?
The pressure in my chest was suffocating.
“I just need some air,” I muttered, pushing through the doors before they could stop me.
Later That Day
I didn’t go far.
I ended up at the river, sitting on the edge of the docks, watching the water shift under the afternoon sun.
My phone buzzed next to me.
I ignored it.
I already knew who it was.
I should’ve gone somewhere farther—somewhere they wouldn’t find me.
Because, sure enough, less than an hour later, I heard the unmistakable click of heels on wood.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Rebekah.
“Brooding doesn’t suit you,” she said as she sat beside me, her tone casual.
I snorted. “Yeah? What does?”
“Not this.” She gestured vaguely at me. “Sulking by the water like some tragic novel heroine.”
I huffed a quiet laugh despite myself. “I’m not sulking.”
She arched a brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
We sat in silence for a while, the water lapping against the docks.
Eventually, Rebekah sighed. “I know what you’re doing, you know.”
I stiffened. “And what’s that?”
“Pulling away. Shutting down. Pretending you don’t need us.”
I forced a smirk. “Maybe I don’t.”
She hummed, unimpressed. “Right. Because isolating yourself and pretending you’re fine has worked so well for you in the past.”
I frowned, looking away.
Rebekah sighed again, softer this time. “Hope. You don’t have to do this alone.”
The words hit something deep inside me, something I wasn’t ready to face.
I kept my expression blank. “I never asked for help.”
“Maybe not.” She studied me. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”
I swallowed.
For a second—for one brief, painful second—I wanted to believe her.
I wanted to believe that they could help me. That I wasn’t alone.
But the thing about hope—real, actual hope—was that it had a tendency to disappoint you.
And I was done being disappointed.
I stood abruptly. “I should go.”
Rebekah’s expression flickered, just for a moment. Like she knew what I was doing. Like she saw right through me.
But she didn’t stop me.
She just nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “But just so you know—you can run all you want, but we’re not going anywhere.”
I hesitated.
Then, without another word, I walked away.
An Hour Later – Mikaelson Compound
I barely said a word when I got home.
The second I stepped through the front doors, I made a beeline for my room, shutting the door behind me.
The familiar silence wrapped around me like a shield. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering weight of Rebekah’s words.
But the moment of solitude didn’t last long.
A soft knock at the door.
Then another.
I closed my eyes, already knowing who it was.
I ignored it.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
“Hope,” Freya’s voice came through the door, steady but gentle. “Let us in.”
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of my desk. “I’m tired.”
Hayley’s voice now. “We just want to talk.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t.”
A pause. Then Rebekah. “Too bad.”
I clenched my fists.
Why couldn’t they just leave it alone?
I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay even. “I’m fine.”
No one responded right away. Then Freya sighed. “Hope… please.”
The quiet plea nearly broke me.
I almost caved.
Almost.
But I couldn’t.
Because if I let them in, if I admitted how much I was struggling, then I’d have to face it. And I wasn’t ready for that.
So I did the only thing I knew how to do.
I shut down.
“I’m going to bed.” My voice was empty, detached.
Silence.
Then Hayley, voice softer now. “Okay.”
A moment later, I heard them step away. The sound of footsteps fading down the hall.
I let out a slow, shaking breath and leaned against the door.
They weren’t giving up.
But neither was I.
I couldn’t let them in.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.