Stefan Salvatore's daughter ~ Miracle

66. Prisoner of our feelings

Gillian's P.O.V.

Last night was hard to fall asleep, but I managed to do it after several hours, not able to forget the teacher. I miss Uncle Ric so much... I walk up the stairs to go to my father's bedroom. There's one of my journal that I can't find anymore. Maybe I didn't look well in my bedroom but I'm sure dad has it. I knock on his bedroom door but nobody answers. I slowly open it to discover that Dad isn't here. Where is he at this time? I enter his bedroom and walk immediately to his book shelf where all the journals are. No, no, no... Ah! Oh, no... Where is it? I take a journal out to see if it is mine when a picture falls down of it. I frown confused and pick it up. Who is that woman? I turn the picture around to see the name of the woman. Lillian Salvatore... Is she part of my family? How come I never heard about her?

- What are you doing? I hear my father asking me with a confused, surprised and also upset tone. I know he hates when I search through his stuff. However, that's not what I was doing. I was looking for my journal when I fell on this... I gasp, startled by him.

- Dad, don't do this, I say as I put my hand over my heart and look later him.

- What are you doing in my stuff, Gillian? You know I don't like it when you search through my stuffs. If you want something you ask me, he tells me, frowning upset as he takes the journal out of my hands and puts it back on the shelf.

- I wasn't looking, dad. I mean, yes I was but I'm looking for one of my journal. I can't find it in my room so I thought maybe you had it, I explain him as he crosses his arms over his chest.

- I don't have any of your journals, Lilou. Look again in your room, you'll find it, he says before walking to his desk. I nod as I look at the picture in my hand again. Dad doesn't seem to have seen it. I walk toward the entrance of his room when I stop abruptly. I sigh and shake my head. Lilou?

- Dad, I turn around and walk toward his desk, where he is standing next to it, who is the woman? Why does she has our last name? I question him while showing him the picture that fell from the journal.

- Where did you found it? He asks with an upset tone while frowning.

- It fell off of the journal when I took it. I didn't search through your stuff, dad. It's private, I wouldn't do that, my father takes the picture, frowning sadly before sighing. The silence takes place in the room. I hear him clearing his throat. Why does he look so hurt? Did you know her? Is she our family?

- She was, responds, my father as he sits on the desk chair behind him. I frown confused. I never talked about her to you, because I didn't want to remember those years with her. I didn't live long with that woman... She was gone when I was pretty young.

- Who is she, dad? I ask him as I remark that it saddens him.

- She's my mother, baby, he answers. I look at him, my mouth wide open as I try to find a word. But nothing comes out. That woman was my grandmother... You know it now.

- I'm... I'm sorry, dad. I shouldn't have asked you. I'm stupid, I say while shaking my head and frowning upset at myself.

- No, hey, baby, tells me, dad, as he grabs my hands, you have the right to ask and to know about your family. It's your ancestors after all.

- Maybe, but I make you sad by asking you those questions, I reply, looking at him seriously.

- It's just a period that I try not to think about. But if you want to know things, ask me. I'll be glad to answer those questions, he answers with a small smile as sadness can be seen in his eyes.