Wicked Hearts

Adella stared long and hard at Madden. She was kneeling on the kitchen floor, her tiny tot standing at arms length from her, staring intently back at Adella. "What is it, mama?" She asked.

Adella didn't right away answer. She was too busy staring at the wonder of her daughter. She had curly auburn hair that fell in ringlets passed her shoulders. Her icy blue eyes could've mirrored Adella's when she was younger. And those lips; pouty and perfect. She looks just like me.

"Impossible," She whispered to Madden and stood up.

Madden arched an eyebrow to her young-looking mother and rolled her pretty eyes. "Your'e weird," She mumbled and skipped into the living room.

Adella's mouth fell open and she leaned over the kitchen counter. "Yeah?!" She shouted to Madden. "Apple doesn't fall from the tree!" She huffed and folded her arms defensively across her chest.

"Real mature," She jumped at the sound of Damon's voice. "Mom."

"She called me weird."

"She's two. You're like what? A hundred-something."

Adella glared at her husband. "A hundred-something," She retorted with a scoff. Damon looked at her with an apologetic smile. "But looking every bit of seventeen," He patronized.

"Eighteen," She corrected.

Damon shrugged his shoulders and kissed her forehead before following the path his daughter had taken. Adella watched his retreating figure and leaned against the counter top. She gave an exasperated sigh and ran two shaky hands through her auburn hair. Her dream was wearing her out.

"Do you really think it's just a random shot in the dark that she looks like you, Adella?" Klaus asked from somewhere in the darkness. She couldn't see him. She couldn't see anything. She quickly wondered if her eyes were even open.

One blink. Two blink.

"What do you want with me, Klaus?" She shouted into the abyss.

"The girl," he echoed. "I want the girl."

Suddenly, Madden's body was wrapped around her leg. Tears were streaming down her sweet baby's face. She got down to eye-level with her and put her hands on either side of her face. "What's wrong, Madden?" She asked frantically.

"Grandpa," She whispered. "He wants to kill me."

She blinked and found herself looking at a curious Damon. "Where'd you go?" He asked. Adella cleared her throat. It was a silly dream. Nothing to alarm anyone over.

"The grocery store," She replied. "I was conducting a list."

"Apparently a big one, with a debate over which brand of yogurt you should buy. You were doing some serious thinking up there," He tapped her forehead with his forefingers.

"Sorry," She apologized and stepped around him to see a vase of black roses sitting on the island. "Where did those come from?" She asked him.

"They were on the front step," He replied nonchalantly.

Adella knew where those roses came from. She knew who had sent them. She knew what they did. She just didn't understand why they were here.

"He promised," She said with a snare.

Damon ignored her and plucked one from the vase. "I've always liked black roses," He said as he lifted it to his nose. Adella's eyes widened and she jumped to yank the rose away. Before she had the chance, Damon fell to the floor.

"No!" She shouted and fell with him.

"Daddy!" Madden yelled, running to Damon's side. "Madden, Daddy's fine. He's just really sleepy. Go watch tv," She informed as she cradled Damon's head in her lap.

Madden walked backwards back into the living room, not entirely buying her mother's story. Adella looked down at her husband and gently put him on the tile as she stood up. She grab the roses to burn them when a note fell from the petals.

She sat the vase back down and unfolfed the parchment. There, in the most elegant handwriting, was three words she never wanted to read. You owe me.

"The roses," She whispered, were meant for her.