A/N: I just finished Last Sacrifice and, while it was pretty awesome, I was left wanting more… I think it was probably just because I loved Adrian, and was so sad to see him heartbroken. But I'm glad he didn't just forgive Rose. That wouldn't have been realistic. So I'm going to write out my frustrations! I'm going to try a new style out and see if it works. This will contain SPOILERS!

Disclaimer: Vampire Academy isn't mine, or Adrian wouldn't have fallen apart… but I guess it's for the best, because we get to see more of him!

No Happy Ending

You stare at the wall in front of you. Stare, but don't really see. The lines on the hideous wallpaper your mother picked out have long since blurred together, forming a mass of nothingness that holds your attention, though you don't know why. You don't know much of anything anymore. Your life has fallen apart; your heart has been torn out. You've lost the ultimate battle, and you hate how much it hurts. You feel like you're being ripped apart from the inside. You've never felt anything like it, and you wish you never had.

Light flickers through the darkened room, the only light in all the darkness surrounding you, a result of the television you muted. You want a distraction, but the noise only annoys you. You wish it didn't, because then maybe you could get lost in the ridiculousness of the human soap operas flashing across the screen. It's got to be pretty close to your life right now, you muse, smiling bitterly. You haven't slept a wink all night, and you know you're exhausted, but you can't sleep. It's better to stay awake than fall into dreams you don't want to have. So instead, you take another sip of your scotch, savouring the burn as it slides down your throat. The pain is real and sharp, and you savour it. In a way, you understand why her majesty, Lissa, used to cut herself. It not only releases the pressure of spirit, it also keeps you grounded firmly in reality. The burn of the alcohol reminds you that this is real, but at the same time mutes the pain in your heart. It's the perfect salve for your wounds. It always has been, and it always will be. It's your only friend, scotch. The only one you can truly depend on.

You take another sip, angered when you don't feel the familiar, comforting burn. Your tongue and throat are numb. Turns out even scotch has deserted you. You throw the near-empty bottle at the blurred wallpaper, satisfied as the remaining liquid drips down the paper after the glass shatters against it. It improves it, in your opinion. A little stain here and there would do this place some good. Your mother always had the most uptight taste in decorations. She was always so pristine about the decorum of the house that you weren't allowed to have crayons after that one time you drew on the wall. Yes, she'll have a downright fit about your 'improvements' to her wallpaper, but you can't seem to care. Nothing matters anymore.

You've thought about hitting up a bar, about getting out of this room with its drawn curtains and musty smell, but you can't bring yourself to move. Despite your attempts to block it out, all you can do is see the intimate moment between them and replay the conversation over and over again. You thought you could handle this, but it's painfully clear that you can't. She's right about you. You're weak. You're a victim. It's no wonder she wants Belikov. With him, she doesn't have to worry about mental breakdowns or spirit-induced insanity. No, she can lead a normal life with him and not worry about anything. Except guarding Lissa, of course. But then, that just plays into her whole happily ever after anyways. She got everything she wanted: Belikov, Lissa, Guardian status, assignment to the most powerful Moroi there is, and no charges for any of the crimes she committed. She got her happy ending, but where does that leave you?

Scoffing to yourself, you finish off the scotch in the glass and stumble to the liquor cabinet you made sure was built into the room when you were thirteen and pull out a bottle of Russian Vodka. It's your last bottle, and you've been saving it for a special occasion. Well, it doesn't get more special than this. You've had your heart ripped out and torn to pieces, then shoved back inside you, forcing you to continue living. You're really beginning to wish she had staked you. At least you wouldn't have to deal with all this shit.

You pour yourself a drink, and then take the bottle back to the chair with you, returning to your original state. You don't know how long you sit there before there's a pounding at the door. The doorknob turns but doesn't open because you locked it when you first started drowning your sorrows.

"Adrian?"

You don't answer. It's your mother, and you know she doesn't want to see you like this.

"Adrian? Open the door!"

Your only response is more silence. You're actually surprised she's making such a racket. Any other person would have assumed you were sleeping and wouldn't have bothered you. It is night, after all.

"Adrian!"

Again, you say nothing. The only thing you can do is raise the glass to your lips and take another drink, welcoming the renewed burn that comes with the stronger alcohol. Yes, she got her happy ending. Pretty much everyone got their happy endings (with the few notable exceptions you so courteously pointed out to her earlier). And where exactly does that leave you?

The answer comes easily this time: Alone, locked in your room, with a bottle of Russian Vodka and your thoughts for company, and hideous, stained, wallpaper for entertainment. No, there would be no happy ending for you.

A/N: So, what did you think? I love reviews almost as much as I love Adrian!