Chapter 1: Meet Desiree.

"Desiree Stoll! Come back here!" Mom yelled.

"NO! I'M NOT LIVING IN THIS HOUSE ANYMORE!" I yelled back. Whoa, too fast there, let's start from the beginning.

Let me formally introduce myself, my name is Desiree Katherine Stoll, daughter of Angie Stoll and Jacob Stoll. Quad-blood, nothing special I guess if you don't think that being a kid who has more god in her than human not special.

I was born in a hospital at 1:00 P.M. yep, right at the dot, on February 20th. And I guess that's all you really need to know about me I guess. Oh yea, the gods kinda hate me but that's not important, right?

My childhood was ok, well intill Vinny came along, but that's a different story. I always liked to watch daddy draw, I remember sitting in his studio watching him paint while sipping on a juice box.

He'd occasionally peek where I was and smile and then go back to work. Oh yea, I forgot to tell you what I look like, haha, I'm soo stupid. Well there's not much about me, I have curly blonde hair and green eyes. Dad says I get it from his mom.

I remember when I was young, I asked dad where was my grandparents. He told me they died. I didn't know what died meant at the time but I pretended to know to look smart. But then I learnt everything.

His twin was dead, his parents were dead, his uncle, aunt, Grandmother, everyone was dead. Everyone except for him, Aunt Rose, and his cousin, but they don't keep on tabs anymore.

There was a part in my life when I found out that my Aunt was a lesbian, it was a confusing time cause all I saw was men and woman together, but then I found myself sitting at a wedding with two women getting married.

And that's when I learnt the term, lesbian.

Most of the time in my childhood, I learnt things that I shouldn't learn, like what a dick looks like, (I accidently walked into the boys bathroom and then oops a boy was using the urinal. I was five.) I learnt how to swear by the time I was seven, too many things.

And then Vincent came along. Vincent was born when I was four, but he doesn't like to be called Vincent, he likes to be called Max, short for Maxwell, his middle name. Dad named him Vincent after Vincent Van Gogh, his favorite artist, but turns out that Vinny doesn't like that name.

But I call him Vincent to annoy him. Vincent has brown hair, it's straight and messy cause he doesn't bother to look in the mirror and fix it, blue eyes and freckles. And I hated him.

I hated him cause mom and dad paid more attention to him. It was always, Vincent this and Max that.

And it leads to something worse, but let me tell you about that later. Like in… Let's see, ah ha! A few more paragraphs!

Anyway, moving on. Oh my, this is moving rather quickly, sorry, bad habit, let's slow down.

One night I heard screaming. But this time I didn't cover my head with my pillow, cause it wasn't a baby screaming, more like a man. It intrigued me, who would be screaming who wasn't a baby.

I crept out of my room, passing the pictures of my grandparents and older aunt. I'm confused, the screaming is coming from mom and dad's room. The door was open just a tiny bit, but just enough for me to peer in.

I saw it, Daddy was screaming into a pillow screaming words I don't want to even say because they'll haunt me forever. Mama was hugging him telling him that it wasn't, I was never his.

He was pulling at his hair, the same thing I do when I get frustrated or steaming mad. I stood there amazed, usually dad was a calm person and didn't usually get mad like mom did. But there he was, screaming and pulling his hair out.

The door creaked a bit and then mom's eyes shot onto mine. She mouthed the words, 'go back to sleep'. I stood there for a while not really knowing what to do. But then she whispered it and I ran back to my room.

The next day when I woke up to go to pre-school, mom told me, "Don't ask about it. Especially not your dad." And when someone says something like that, it makes you want to do it. Well in my case anyway.

So for the whole day, that idea crossed my mind. Even if I had ADHD I couldn't wait to go home and ask him all of these questions.

And then it was my time to shine. When school was over dad came to pick me up. In the car I didn't ask him anything about it; I wasn't going to ask him intill we came home. Plus, Vinny was in the car and he was cooing at me and making it hard to think of what I should say. I wanted to smack his little face but I knew I would get in trouble.

We got home and I ran inside and waited for him to make Vincent to take a nap and then go into his studio. So then I sneaked downstairs and walked to his studio. I knocked on the door.

I waited for him to say, "Come in." I creaked the door open and examined the man who was sitting on a stool painting. His calm features made it look like nothing happened. All though there were little patches on the side of his head, everything looked the same. He usually had bloodshot eyes so it was the norm.

It made me wonder if it was all a dream. I have some really weird dreams, most of the time I dreamt of a woman in old timey Greek clothing picking flowers. She was beautiful, she had eyes like mine except they were greener and livelier than mine, wavy light brown hair that had daises weaved into it, and a few freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks.

But there was something odd about her; she had a hole in her dress, one near her belly. And when she met my eyes, she'd smile and say, "Not yet my dear, not yet." She throws her bouquet of daises at me and then my dream would end. I wasn't sure what it meant though. But whenever I had that dream, I felt safe, at ease.

But then I forced myself to snap out of it, I was here to ask a question. "Daddy?" I asked. He looked at me.

"Yea Dez?"

"Why were you screaming last night?" He smiles.

"Did I wake you up?" He asked. I nodded. "I'm sorry." I crossed my arms.

"But you didn't answer my question dad, why were you screaming?" He laughs and smacks his forehead. He starts mumbling to himself but then answers my question.

"Desiree, I'm going crazy." He said. I was confused, he looked normal, how could he be going crazy?

"Why?"

"I-it's a punishment from the gods." He responded with a stutter at the beginning. I was still confused, isn't he their own grandson? Why would they be doing that? He could probably tell I was confused so he said, "It's ok if your confused, I don't really get it either."

I could tell that he got it sort of, but I went out of the studio and went back upstairs. Why would the Gods do this? I wondered. I mean I was alright, nothing happened to me, yet.

I remember dad always asking me, is there anything wrong, can I see alright, do I get mixed feelings all the time? He always asked me these questions and I didn't know why. He always got worried when I didn't talk for long periods of time too.

He always kept watch on Vinny too. And he was always muttering to himself in French. Talking to animals and then realizing he was talking to an animal and walk away. So I guess he wasn't kidding, he was going crazy.

So now moving onto what happened to me. It was when I was seven and Vincent was three. Dad wasn't home so it was just mom, Vincent, and me. She was taking care of Vincent and I kept complaining my head hurts.

"Mommy my head huuurts!" I exclaimed.

"Vincent! Come back here!" She was running after the running Vincent that was just discovering running, all he did before was just walk around. Then she turned to me. "Then go take a nap, it won't hurt when you wake up." I looked at her.

"But I'm not tiirred!" I yelled. She sighed and muttered. 'Why did Jacob want another one?'

"Honey," She said calmly. "Just take a nap and you'll be fine." I sighed and walked away. Why couldn't she just do her singing thing that cures my hurt? Cause it felt like an elephant was sitting on my brain, it really hurt.

But I stomped upstairs and lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. After 30 minutes of trying to fall asleep, it finally worked and I slept.

But when I woke up, it hurt even more. I got up and made my way down the stairs. "Mom!" I yelled. "IT STILL HURTS!" But I clutched my head cause the yelling made it hurt even more.

I felt something hard on my head. It was a bump. Did I bump my head? I don't remember that I did.

Then I heard her yell at me that I was making this thing up for attention since she knew I was jealous of Vincent. But it hurt, it really hurt. And I hated it that she was ignoring it. It's been hurting since school ended, and school ended in June and now it was August.

And then I started crying. I was sick of her ignoring me; I was tired of her telling me this. And then I found myself tumbling down the stairs. And then I blacked out to the sound of shocked screaming.

When I woke back up I found myself in a hospital room. "W-where am I?" I asked. And then the hurting came back. "Ooh my head."

"Hello Desiree, I'm Dr. Olsen, I need to ask you a few questions." I gave him a confused look.

"Why am I here?" I asked. He smiled.

"I'll tell you after I find out something." He started. "Now, Desiree, tell me, how long have you had these pains in your head?"

"Since school ended." I responded. But I was scared, I didn't know where I was and where my family was.

"So for about three months?" He asked. I nodded. He wrote something down on a clip board. "Good, so your mommy says there's a bump on your head, can I see it?"

"Why do you want to see it, it's gross!" I made a face and he smiled and laughed.

"Just to see it, I like gross things." I lifted my hair and showed him the hard pinkish bump. He put on these latex gloves and examined it, not saying really anything. But I looked at his face, it wasn't so happy anymore. He wrote stuff down and told me to rest and he would talk to my parents.

15 minutes later daddy walked in. "Hey Desiree." He said with a soft smile.

"Hi dad." I replied. "What's wrong with me?" He sat next to me on the bed that was far too big for me.

"You have a tumor." He replied. Before I could ask, he said. "Yea, it's bad."

"Am I going to die?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Maybe." I looked around.

"Where's mommy?" I asked. He looked at the door.

"She's outside right now with Vinny collecting herself." Dad only said that when she was crying. I was even more confused, and mad. Why wasn't she going to visit me? I was probably going to die and she wouldn't visit me?

"Why is she crying?" I asked angrily. "She shouldn't be crying! She's not the one dying! Well, not dying, possibly dying, but still!" He started gently stroking my head and it made some of the pain go away.

"Well, she thinks she's been a bad mother." He replied. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks.

"She has been! She thought I was lying about my head hurting! But I wasn't! And she's been ignoring me! And all she said to make it feel better is, 'take a nap!' well it doesn't work! I hate her!" He looked at me.

"Do you really hate her?" He asked. I stayed silent and thought for a long time.

"No… I guess not." I crossed my arms. "But I'm still mad at her." I paused again. "And Vincent!"

"You're always mad at Max." He mused. I nodded. But then I remembered I was dying and I turned pale.

"Is there any way I won't die?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yea, you can have surgery, but you need to shave all your hair off." I gasped and covered my head like they were already shaving my hair. My beautiful curly angel hair, the thing I liked the most about me.

We talked for a while but then I found myself in arms between him and a sketchpad. He was drawing something and I watched contently I always liked to watch him draw. But he'd always draw the same people, this girl who looked like the girl in my dreams, this blonde woman and some tall guy with curly hair, this teenage boy with blonde hair, and this girl with different colored eyes. He drew the same people and sometimes they'd get older, younger, but he always seemed so content drawing these people.

This time he was sketching the little boy and the little girl with wavy hair. She was swinging on a tree while he sat there watching.

I noticed the door opening and mom walking in. I pretended not to notice her but her eyes were all red and puffy. She had Vinny with her and he looked confused and angry cause I was getting all the attention.

Dad looked up and saw mom. He smiled and she smiled back. She looked at me but I didn't smile. I just looked away and focused on the drawing. Everything was calm, my head stopped hurting for a moment and only a little pounding was there and it was fine.

And then I felt a sharp pain at the side of my head, and it wasn't internal, it Vincent pulling my hair. "OWWWWWWWWWWWW!" I screamed and it only made my head feel horrible, this time it was internal.

There was a lot of commotion in the room and I didn't hear a bit of it, my head hurt so much that I couldn't hear anything. Dad was gone from my circle of warmth and I curled up in the fetal position and stuck my fingers in my ear like the pain was in my ears and I was trying to get it out.

Well the sounds didn't stop I snapped. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FU- UP!" I yelled saving myself for saying the word 'fuck'. And then the room went silent but I didn't come out of that position.

And then I realized I was crying. I grabbed something close to me, which was a pillow, and hugged it to my body. I heard mom and dad fighting over something.

"She almost said fuck!" Mom said in a hushed whisper.

"Well so did I when I was seven, so just drop it." Dad snapped back in the same whisper. I heard Vincent in the background muttering to himself and saying I was a poopyface.

"But she's only seven Jacob!" She paused to look at me. "She's just a baby!" But then he pulled her in for a kiss. Usually in these cases I would go, "EWWW gross! Do that outside!" But now I didn't really care.

"You're too protective of her, you gotta let her loose." Dad replied. "I turned out fine." He flashed her one of his smiles that he thought was cute.

She crossed her arms. "No, all of you turned out crazy, and I don't mean that by mental, I mean crazy." Dad smiled a cheeky grin.

"No, it's not how I was raised; it's in the Stoll family bloodline." I remember dad telling me that his mother always complained that her children were crazy to her husband which should have been my grandfather, and he'd always reply to her with a kiss on her head.

"Yea Gardner, but they wouldn't be my kids if they weren't." So is that where we, well at least me, got my crazy? Cause face it, Vincent wasn't any kind of crazy. Trust me; he's more like mom even though he got most of his traits from Dad's dad.

It makes me to be even more ashamed to be his sister.

I was about to go asleep when I heard this, "I'm sorry." I looked up from the pillow and saw short little Vincent I stared at him. After he looked a bit uncomfortable I kissed his forehead.

"It's ok even though you're a little turd." And at that time he didn't know what turd his and took it as a compliment. I smiled. Totally was going to use that against him when older and learns what a turd is.

Sooner or later, dad left with Vincent and I was left alone with my mother. We didn't say anything to each other for a long time.

But then she broke the silence. "Desiree?" I looked up from drawing.

"Yea?" There was more silence.

"I'm sorry." She paused again and looked down. Her bangs covered her face but I could tell she was wiping the tears away. "For not believing you, I should have believed you." I stayed silent.

After the silence got awkward I said. "Ok." She looked at me surprised.

"That's it?" I nodded.

"Or do you want me to lie to you?" I asked. She stared at me and sighed.

"You're just like her." She said.

"Like who?" I asked.

"Like your dead aunt, she was just like this." I stared at her even more.

"I wanna get out of here." I complained. She walked over to me and smoothed the side of my head where the bump wasn't.

"Honey, you can't. I'm sorry." I stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because, your tumor is serious, the doctors need to watch you over night for a few days."

"How long is a few days?" She sighed.

"You and your father are impossible."

Ok, thanks for reading! Ok, so Desiree and Vincent are the children of my OC's from my other story, The Next Generation. So if you just came here and don't get a single thing, then go to that story.

I am excited to begin a new story so I hope for the best. So again, thanks for reading and I will see you later I think.