Hello my little Darlings,

Did you miss me?

Chapter Nine: Black Out

As it turns out, I had a mild concussion. Aunt Dot and I found that out the hard way when she was lecturing me in the car and I lost consciousness. I mean, yeah, it's not surprising that I'd be knocked out during a lecture, but this time was different. And apparently, I scared her so badly she almost crashed into a tree. I woke up a few hours later in the hospital, where the doctor explained what had happened, gave me a few things of pills (most of which were vitamins), and told me to get lots of rest (anything that involves sleeping is okay by me, not to mention an excuse to skip PE). Then, finally, we left. On the car ride home, Aunt Dot was really quiet. I think it's because she's afraid she somehow triggered my loss of consciousness. But the silence ended by the time we got home. By that time, a mixture of dark violet and deep blue filled the sky.

"I just don't get it," she said quietly as she closed the front door. I paused on the fourth step of the stairs.

"What don't you get?" I asked cautiously.

Aunt Dot looked up at me with somber eyes. "You," she murmured almost inaudibly.

"Huh?" Perhaps I would have understood her if I hadn't blacked out earlier, but right now I didn't.

"I don't understand why you have to do those things. Why you can't just talk things out with Lucas, why you have to solve all your problems violently?"

"I don't solve all my problems violently. And he started it," I retorted like a child.

"Jennive," she said in a tired voice, "It doesn't matter who started it, you should know better by now."

"What? I don't even know what you're talking about. I was running away from him in the halls, I ran into a door, and Lucas ran into me. How should I have known better? The door jumped out on me. If anything, Lucas shouldn't have been chasing me. And the whole reason I was running away from him is 'cause he was shoving me into the lockers!"

"Jen, don't blame this on him. And I'm sure Lucas McCashton wouldn't do something like that. I've met him before."

"Yeah, one time. At a big fancy party where he was on his best behavior in front of his grandpa's guests, and apparently talking about me like we were in love. And, let me guess, the twins were talking about Tony like they were all best friends, right?" I looked away from her, shaking my head, slightly disgusted that she had fallen for such an act. She sighed and started walking towards the kitchen.

"I'm getting tired of this," she mumbled, rubbing her temples.

I stormed up the stairs and stomped into my room, slamming the door behind me. Did she think I hadn't heard her? Or did she say that just so that I could hear it? Why would she say something like that? I mean, I know I'm not the best kid in the world, but I don't deserve to be thrown around by people who don't want me around. Wait. Is she thinking about sending me to someone else in the family? Is that what she meant?

I plopped down onto my bed, face first.

When she said she was tired of this, did she mean she was tired of me? Is she getting sick of me being here? Sick of me being around her family and influencing her son? Am I ruining her life? Does she want to send me away, too? Am I that bad of a kid, of a person, that nobody wants me around? Does she... hate me?

I felt eyes watching me, laughing at me, pointing and saying how hated I was. Telling me no one liked me, that I would be sent from person to person, until they ran out of family members and my failed excuse of a Father sent me to a boarding school. I was being laughed by non-existing eyes. My eyes, however, were very real and starting to tear up. My breathing became uncontrollable and ragged and my nose began to run. Fuck. Some people can pull off being cute while crying. Quite frankly, I'm not included in that little party.

"Not even going to greet me?"

I froze in place. Not now. I lifted my face off of my pillow and looked towards my closet, where he was leaning against the doorframe, totally nonchalant.

I gave him my best Glare of Death. "Go away, Gregory," I growled, stuffing my face back into my pillow. "I'm not in the mood. What the hell are you even doing here?" I asked as I flopped onto my back.

He shrugged. "I was bored and came here in hope of scaring you. It's become standard entertainment for me."

"Like I said, not in the mood." I stared at the ceiling and tried to wipe the tears off of my face surreptitiously.

"You have a mood to be frightened in?" he said with a smirk.

"Yes. And that is not this mood. In this mood, I am more likely to punch the shit out of you than scream at you."

"Well aren't we sophisticated?"

"Fuck you," I snapped at him. He stayed silent after that. For a long time. So long, I started to wonder if he had left. I didn't really want to be alone, but I didn't want him to be here either. I turned to check and he was still there. In fact he hadn't moved an inch, or better yet he hadn't moved a centimeter. I flung my face back into my pillow.

"Go awaaaaaaay!" I yelled, but my voice was muffled by my pillow.

"Hmm. I think not."

I raised my head just enough to rest my chin on my pillow. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that smirk still playing on his lips. "Bastard." I said loudly. I could've sworn I heard something like a chuckle, but I wasn't sure.

"By the way, why do you have a bruise on your forehead?" he asked, his voice was more gentle now. Crap, he saw that? I didn't even know it was already bruising.

"No idea. Maybe I tripped and hit my head. I do that a lot, you know," I mumbled. Suddenly, I felt his icy hand on my cheek. He turned my face towards his, which was just inches away. If I had been in my normal state of mind, I would have shrieked and jumped forty feet back at his sudden closeness. But I didn't. I just stared and let myself be stared at. I almost felt a blush rising as he looked me over. Silently, he took in all the features of my face, as though he had forgotten them. As though he wanted to remember them. Finally words were spoken. A whisper really. Like he was out of breath.

"Who is Lucas?" His red gaze searched through my hazel eyes for an answer. Of course. Everything in the universe somehow leads back to fucking Luke-ASS.

As the genius I admittedly am, I responded with a logical and almost poetic answer:

"An ass-hole." I turned my head away from him, and glared at the wall. Stupid wall. It was obviously the source of all my problems. Stupid fucking wall. I felt Gregory's eyes boring into the back of my head.

"An arse-hole?"

"No. Not arse-hole An ass-hole. Aaaaaaasssssssssssssss-hole. You gotta say it the American way or it loses all meaning."

"The American way?"

"Yes. The proper way to speak is American."

"I thought we were speaking English."

"No, no. Well... Actually, you're speaking English. I'm speaking American."

"What's the difference?"

"American is the freedom language," I said in a matter-of-factly tone. "Like, 'rubber' means 'condom'. But that's about it."

He cocked his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. "What's a con—"

"ANYWAY," I interrupted loudly, not wanting to go through Sex 101 with him. Man, you'd think that every teenage boy, human or vampire, would at least know that much about sex. Anyway, he continued to look at me with the same confused, maybe even frustrated, face. Then his eye fired up and he quickly swung his head towards the door. I quickly sat up and asked, "What is it?"

Gregory started to glare at the wall as if he was trying to burn it down with his eyes. Was the wall the cause of all his problems too? Who would've guessed? I leaned over and turned on my lamp, which only gave off a dim light. Gregory's eyes were still glued to the door.

"What? What? What is it?" I asked glancing from him to the door and back to him, getting anxious and slightly annoyed that I wasn't getting an answer.

"Someone's here," he finally explained in a low voice. Once he managed to tear his eyes away from the door, he walked towards my balcony.

"Who?" I so cleverly asked. I didn't get a response as he exited my room. Where the hell was he going to hide on my balcony? There's only a small part of it that you can't see through the window. I heard voices and footsteps coming towards my room, one of them my aunt. (So good, it wasn't the murderer, ninja, etc, from nights before.). I quickly crawled to the front of my bed and leaned against the wall. Yes, for those of you who were wondering, against the wall that causes all of my problems. I reached over to the nightstand opposite my lamp and grabbed whatever magazine I idly left there days before and quickly turned to a page close to the middle. But not the exact middle. That would be too obvious. Of course with my luck I had turned to a page with the title: "Five Simple Ways to Know He's Into You". Of course.

I quickly skimmed it before there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said, trying to sound like there wasn't a hot vampire on my balcony. My Aunt walked in first, an expectant smile on her face. What she was expecting, I have no clue. She was followed by an old man with a mustache, wearing a beige colored high-end suit (which I assume was meant to be casual), and a monocle. I swear to God. A freaking monocle. Who the hell wears a freaking monocle nowadays, anyway? And finally, bringing up the rear, as he always does:

"Lucas?" I shrilled, almost tearing the magazine in half. Mr. Monocle almost fell backwards, shocked by my response. His monocle came off in the process. Recovering from shock, he gave me a dumbfounded face. I could feel a pair of eyes watching us from the balcony and I knew it wasn't just my paranoia.

My aunt and Fuckface—whoops, I mean Lucas—were unperturbed by my freak out. In fact, Luke-Ass smirked at the sound of his name. SMIRKED. That narcissistic bastard.

"Jen," my aunt said, getting my attention, "This is Lord McCashton, Lucas' grandfather." She really emphasized her words to ensure that I would be on my best behavior. Not. (And no wonder the guy had a monocle. That is such a grandfather thing, you know? Old rich farts like that are practically entitled to have such an accessory.)

"Nice to meet ya, sir. Lucas talks about you all the time," I said to Mr. McCashton, who smiled and looked proudly towards his eldest grandson. I went on, "Yeah, he usually throws your name around to get his way. It's nice to meet you in the flesh and know he wasn't completely lying when he said he had money in his back pocket." Mr. McCashton looked back at his grandson, a bit pissed this time. I looked back down with a smile on my face.

Lucas rushed up to my bedside. "May I have a word with you?" he asked ever so politely, making me want to stab him with a spork.

"Speak."

"Privately?" He nodded towards my balcony. I gave him a hard stare before flickering my eyes to my Aunt. She, still smiling, nodded her head like a giddy schoolgirl. I let out a heavy sigh.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiine," I moaned, rolling my eyes as I turned to get out of bed. Lucas offered me his hand, I ignored it, and we walked out to me balcony. Lucas closed the glass door behind me as I folded my arms. "Okay. We're alone. Talk." Lies. Gregory's watching. I can feel it. Or is it the ghost of my alarm clock...? Either way, we were being observed.

"You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot." He looked at me to say something; I raised an eyebrow. He continued," I... can admit it was mostly my fault."

"Well aware. Now what the hell do you want? Cut to the chase before I throw you over." I gestured to the stone ledge. Lucas stuck his hands in his pockets and walked over to the ledge, positioning himself next to me.

"Well, the problem with that is, you've already thrown me over the edge. More than one in fact." He was beside me now. He leaned towards me, like he was going to tell me a secret. "And you, whether I say what I want or not, will not be throwing me over this particular ledge." He glanced back into my room. I followed his eyes back to our family members who were chatting away. And unfortunately searching my room—don't you touch my iPod, old man. We looked back at each other. I straightened my back.

"Fine. How 'bout off the Empire State? Or Big Ben? That's closer."

"Not quite." God, I hate his eyes. I wish he'd stop looking at me like that. That smug look. Those stupid eyes. And his irritating voice. "I have a proposal for you."

"Not caring."

"I figured as much. A woman like you..."

"Excuse me?"

"I want something from you." I don't like where this is headed.

"You're not getting anything from me."

"Oh, I think I am."

"I am 46 seconds away from slapping you shitless, you fucking douche, unless you explain yourself this instant."

"You snuck out last night. And I'm willing to bet it wasn't your first time, the way you were dressed."

"So I go out dancing, sue me."

"Does your Aunt know you go club hopping?"

"It wouldn't be a shock, if that's what you're asking."

"No it wouldn't, now would it? In fact, it would be something expected of the black sheep. And with a record like yours, well, one's imagination can go wild. By the by, did you actually do the drugs, or was that really your stepmother's doing?" I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him close and spoke in a shrill whisper, as though that would keep the prying ears from hearing.

"How the hell do you know about that? And, no. I didn't, for what its worth. Though to a slime ball like you that wouldn't be much, now would it?" I mimicked. He shrugged.

"As I said. One's imagination can go wild." He said... was he trying to seduce me? I shoved him away.

"Well you can knock out whatever sick ass thoughts your imagination's come up with, or I'll do it for you." I turned around and put my hand the handle. Aunt Dot was showing off my closet now, judging by the shadows coming from inside it. My arm was pulled back, and seeing as how I'm attached to it, my body followed.

"Now, now, you stupid American. There are a lot of handles that come with being a club hopper. None of them are pretty, really. Druggy, alcoholic, a whore."

"I'm none of those things. I go for the music."

"Oh, I know. I know, I know. But," He forced me closer to him," everyone else might not. After all, who would you believe?" He stroked my face." A violent, rebellious, little delinquent? Or, an upper-class, well-educated, Lord's grandson... With evidence?" He raised his cell phone. When did he pull that out? He started to look through it. "Fun little fact: your favorite club happens to be a favored club of a few mates. I've got quite a few pictures here. You really know how to move, don't you?" He asked showing me a picture of me, indeed moving it, from a few nights ago. I tried to snatch his phone, but to no avail.

"Give it to me!"

"No. I said I wanted something, and I'm damn well going to get it. Maybe afterwards I'll hand it over. You never know." He said sickeningly sweet. I glared at him nice and long.

"Fine." I barely managed my voice," What do you want?" I asked with venom practically spewing out from behind my clenched teeth.

"Simple," he said with a laughing smile that I imagined ripping off his face. "I. Want. A. Date."

I almost blacked out again. And someone else was growling.

It wasn't Lucas.

End chap. Nine

Goodbye my Lovelys! Goodbye!

Stay good! Do well in life! May demons become confused on the way to your doorstep! Raise that D in math to a C!

See ya next time~ ;)