I stared at the scroll. Did that stuff happen? Will it happen? Images and scenes began to play before my eyes. Me lunging at a man, thinking only about his blood; me lying in Elijah’s arms dreading what was about to come; me watching as Xavier dug knives into my body; me in an alleyway, being lifted up by someone I loved and adored; a hand smacking my face and me landing on the ground.
I covered my ears, trying to block out the screams I was remembering.
Suddenly the visions switched, I was staring at a woman in my arms, adoring her beauty and her smile, then I was pinning Lana to a wall, yelling out her, and then I was drinking her blood even though I was human. And then, I died at the hands of the werewolves.
“Stop.” I begged, but images and scenes bombarded my mind and wouldn’t relen
