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Send ✉️ for a letter that my muse would write to yours after your muse has died.
@nikxmikaelson
Dear Father,
A man came home today saying he was you. He tried to hug me, to kiss my forehead and tell me I should be glad to see him. That you were home and things could be normal again. He had your face, your voice, but he wasn’t you. He felt like an impostor, like a different person had slipped into your skin. He was louder, more rambunctious and rude.
I hate him. I hate the way he expects to just fill your place, that he came come back and say he’s you and just expect me to cling to him or jump for joy or something. I hate how he’s so loud and will suddenly just start yelling at Aunt Bekah or Uncle Elijah, even though I don’t think either of them have done anything wrong. They’ve been looking after me while you’ve been gone, they’ve been kind to me the way you would have wanted them to.
I miss you and mom so much. Sometimes I’m okay, but then I’ll see something she gave me, or Rebekah or Elijah will say something that will bring back a memory and that burning feeling in my chest comes back.
Forever your daughter,
Hel

















