"Annabelle." I started, trying to stop the tears.

"Yeah?" she replied, looking at me curious.

"Why are you always so happy?"

"Cause I know what it's like to be really sad."

I had never asked about Annabelle's life before the orphanage. I had just tried to pretend she had a loving family who just couldn't support her anymore, or something that had been sad at the time but she had gotten over it.

Come to think of it, I hadn't even told anyone of my life before the orphanage. I had been there most of my life, but I do remember some time before it too.

I remember the murder mysteries. I used to watch them every night with my aunt, even if she didn't know about me hiding behind the couch. It was the same story every single night, and the victims had the same faces as my parents. My aunt didn't notice as I heard her crying, each night hoping the episode would end a different way. And I didn't realize that the people on the screen were really my parents. Really dead.

Eventually my aunt's depression got so bad she couldn't make enough money to pay the rent anymore, and so she threw me into the orphanage. I never saw her again, I wondered if she kept rewatching that episode. Or if she eventually forgot about my mom and dad.

I was just a little girl who couldn't understand why my parents suddenly disappeared. Couldn't connect the dots that were staring me right in the face. Why they were acting in all of those murder mysteries on TV, and why my aunt seemed to hate me. Now it's almost funny looking back. I was so stupid.

My aunt blamed me for their deaths. She couldn't stand living in the same house as me, yet there was nowhere else for me to go. I was the reason they died, the reason she was depressed. It was all my fault.

Over the years I figured that all out, but I still had no idea why. All until I realized what made me different from the others. I know that my aunt's accusation was correct.

There were vampires after my parents, probably the same ones after me. And because I was there, my parents had no chance. They were so preoccupied with saving me that they couldn't fend for themselves. And they were brutally murdered. No one was ever convicted.

If that's all my story, I can't begin to imagine how horrible Annabelle's story is.

I consider asking, but then again, Annabelle has never liked to talk about the sad parts of her life. I always figured she would say something if she really wanted, offer the story on her own without my pressuring her.

I'm not sure if she's ready for that day yet. As for these past few days, we've spent so much time and energy just trying to survive. Just recently she's been thrown into this new world of werewolves and vampires, and I don't want to trouble her yet.

But someday, Annabelle. Someday I hope you'll trust someone with the story of your past that you hide so closely to your chest. Maybe it won't even be me, it could be Dylan. But it's important to have someone. Someone to share the burden with.

It's always good to have that person. The one you can be completely open and honest with.

Now I have Mark, and it makes me feel (just a little) less alone.