"It was all so familiar to him. The house itself, the ruined garden next to the run-down building, the long path that lead to the front door. He had grown up In this place, a place full of memories he would rather forget. The place where Lartne Crepsley was born, and had lived until his becoming a vampire, almost a century ago.
He could see it all in his head. His father, drunk; his mother, pale,a nd sickly; his brothers, violent and idiotic; and his tiny baby sister; so fragile. Their faces swam together in his head, and for a brief moment he felt like collapsing to the ground from the weight of the memories they brought with them.
He remembered his father, Greyson, coming home when he was about six years old. HE had been drinking heavily that night, wasting the tiny amount of money their family had on the alcohol that made him incoherent to the world around him. He had stumbled into their house, barely able to walk. Larten, having been only a little boy was happy to see him. He had ran to his father and hugged his legs tightly, like any little boy would do. Greyson, whether it was because he was drunk, or because of his personality ahd picked the little boy up and had thrown him off.
He landed up against the table, not two feet away, and fell into unconsciousness from hitting his head on the hard wood. He had never been able to look at his father the same way ever again, he avoided him constantly, never getting closer than five feet from the older man.
He remembered his mother, Christine, sitting in her chair in the living room pale as a ghost, thin a s a wire, she had looked breakable, like the wind would have blown her away with the slightest breeze. She had watched emotionless as her husband tossed her youngest son from him. She had not reacted at all, she had not even helped little Larten when he was laying there, hurt and unconscious. He had hated her for it, and he hadn't said to words to her since then.
His brother had always pushed him around. Bullying him because he was the youngest, the smallest, the weakest. Jackson, Malcolm, Liam, and Randall, his older brothers. Spitting images of their father, all huge, masculine, while Larten was smaller and younger. He had never liked his brothers. Never would.
Last of all, his baby sister. Mary-Alice. He had loved her. A tiny little girl with fluffy blond curls. He protected her, from their father, their siblings, from the world. She was the only person in his family he had ever actually loved, the only won he actually cared for. The last time he had seen her, she was about eleven years old, older, but with the still face. She would always be his baby sister, even though she had passed on many years ago. She was the only fond memory from his actual family.
But he had moved on. Making the choice to become a vampire at seventeen years old, Larten Crepsley had turned his back on all that. He had become a general, he could have been a prince, he had worked for a traveling freak circus, and know he was starting on a whole new adventure. He had a new assistant, Darren Shan.
The boy was rebellious, and spontaneous, but he was also smart, and a good person. As he thought about it, Larten realized how much of a son Darren was becoming to him. How important the boy was to him. He liked the feeling, almost like he was making for not having a father, by being one to the teenager. Smiling for the first time since coming to the building, he turned around and headed back to the hotel, where his "son" and Darren's best friend were waiting.
A/N I know it was weird. I got inspiration from George Lopez, which I don't own, and decided to write this at 1:20 a.m. It takes place in Tunnels of Blood, in case you were wondering. Please read and review