Children of Van Helsing

Chapter Seven - A memory of Blood and Pain

Susanna

As soon as I was upstairs, I fell down on the bed and let my tears go. God, no. It was all my fault. If I hadn't taken her with me, she would never be hurt now... Then she wouldn't have that - thing inside of her, those powers. I hated my ancestors. I hated my family and above all, I hated myself.

Why did it have to be her? I was happy to take her place, as it was my fault in the first place, and she was my responsibility. I had to keep her safe.

And that Ian - why did he bother me so much? He was trying to help us. But just the way he acted, as if this was all a big joke, it just... Rubbed me the wrong way. And I worried about Regina too much to be able to handle that. I loved her so incredibly much. Family was always difficult, but in the end, it was worth it - because it was family.

There was a knock on my door - probably was Jessica. She always came to visit me when she knew I was upset. I quickly dried my tears and yelled something back when there was another knock.

"I don't feel like talking, Jess!"

"I'm not Jess!" I heard a male voice shout back.

Oh, damn. Ian.

"Her name is Jessica!" I yelled. I suddenly hated it he was using her nickname. Only people who actually knew her could do that.

He opened the door and walked in - the door shut behind him.

"I didn't know she was called Jessica." He said, and then casually sat on the chair next to my bed. Could he see I had been crying? I pretended I had been reading by sighing and putting a book which had been on my pillow aside.

"I don't remember saying you were allowed to come in."

He shrugged. He did that a lot. "But you didn't say I couldn't, either."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Why did he annoy me so much?

"What's your name anyway?" He asked, while inspecting the book on my night stand. I felt the need to pull it away.

"Susanna." I answered reluctantly.

"Well, nice to meet you. Why are you crying?"

Shit.

"I'm not crying!" I said, sounding like a whining school girl.

"But you were." He said. He didn't sound mocking or amused, but he still annoyed the crap out of me.

"None of your business."

"You're not very friendly, are you?"

"I just don't like telling personal things to strangers!" I snarled.

He raised one eyebrow, but didn't answer. He didn't leave, either. He just sat there on the chair while I sat on my bed, wanting to punch him in the face without any particular reason.

"Can you go away now?" I eventually said.

"Does the word 'nice' not exist in your dictionary?" He asked. I clenched my fists and imagined him being trampled by an angry black unicorn with fire on his hooves. It worked a bit.

"No, but the words 'fist' and 'punch' do."

Instead of being impressed, he chuckled. "What about 'friendly conversation'?"

I rolled my eyes. "What about the word 'stalker'?"

He didn't chuckle now - he laughed. Was he laughing at me? Did he think this whole situation was funny?