His screams replayed in my head as I scrubbed his blood off of my skin, watching the scarlet coloured water pool around my feet in the white ceramic tub. I'd killed him. I'd killed a man, I'd taken him from his son, and none of that mattered.

I hastily dressed after my shower, throwing on a pair of black disco pants and a grey oversized t shirt with a big Batman logo on the front. I reached for my converse and stepped into them, then started throwing my most loved things into my red duffel bag. I needed to leave my apartment by dawn or I'd be trapped for another ten hours, and considering the body and amount of blood around my lockless door, that wasn't really an option. I pushed my damp curls out of my face and zipped my bag closed, and left it sitting on my bed as I walked to the kitchen to retrieve the emergency money I'd hid in plastic baggies at the back of the freezer.

I'd withdraw ten dollars from Adrian's cards daily and another fifty dollars every weekend to store as emergency money. I'd learned that cash was more helpful on the run, and in order for me to survive on the run, I'd need a lot of it. I didn't know how much I'd saved since I'd dropped out of St Vlad's, but the stacks of bills I pulled out of the freezer looked more than helpful. I dropped them into my bag, and then the cheap emergency phone I'd bought a month or two ago. I'd stop on my way out of town and transfer my contacts onto the emergency phone, and then ditch my cell phone somewhere, so I couldn't be traced by the police.

I moved to the bathroom and opened the medicine cupboard, and reached for the coloured contacts sitting on the top shelf. I didn't know if Strigoi could wear contacts, but it wouldn't stop me trying as soon as I stopped next. Snatching up my orange and blue nail polishes, I headed back to my room and threw everything in my bag.

Hauling my bag over my shoulder, I walked to the door and nudged the body out of the way with my foot. I tugged the door open and moved out into the hallway, and flinched as my shoes squelched in the blood I'd spilled in my hasty and very messy feeding session. I moved out of the puddle of the thick, dark liquid and took my shoes off, not wanting to leave bloodied footprints all down the hall. The thought hit me as I shut the door . . . I wasn't only leaving my apartment behind. I was leaving part of myself, too. My parents, my friends, they'd all think that Rosemarie Hathaway was gone. They'd look for her, I knew, but they'd never come close. And I found that I didn't care. I didn't care that I'd never see them again. I didn't care if they lived or died, or had children or got married. I didn't care at all.

I shook my head as I walked down the hall, as if the action would clear the thoughts from my head. It didn't. And the more I thought about my lack of emotion toward the people I formally loved, the antsier I got to feed again. I didn't know why, and I didn't think I wanted to know. My thoughts moved to Lissa and the bond. I hadn't tested the bond since I'd opened my eyes, due to the fact that I'd forgotten about it. I doubted it still worked, but I made a note to myself to try later anyway. I started down the stairs, and sat on the last step to put my shoes on, and then stood, taking in my apartment building one more time before stepping out onto the dark street.

It must have rained in the short time it'd taken me to kill Logan and leave my apartment, and the black pavement glittered under the street lights. The cold air blew my hair across my face and into my eyes, and I shoved it out of the way as I started down the street. I didn't know where I was going, so I made my way back to the Hatchback I'd ditched earlier and dropped my bag in the back. I started the car again and reversed out of the alleyway, and then took the back streets to the highway, listening to the Russian pop radio station that I'd tuned into after I'd stolen the little Toyota.

I remembered I'd packed my iPod an hour into my road trip. I pulled over to the side of the road and twisted around in my seat to dig through my bag. Of course, I only remembered I'd put it in the side pocket after I'd tipped the contents of my duffel out, and with a loud sigh, I reached into the side pocket and took my iPod out, and then turned back to face the steering wheel and drove.

Singing along to 'beat of my Drum', I thought about what I'd have to do before I could stop and collect myself and figure out the whole Strigoi thing. After Logan's body had been found, I'd be a suspect, as it was my apartment he was murdered in. I didn't worry about the descriptions of myself that'd be released to the majority of Russia, considering that I was now a red eyed, pale, immortal bloodsucker, and looked a lot different to the old Rosemarie Hathaway. Then again, I didn't know how much different I looked. I didn't have a reflection. Identification aside, I'd need another name, background story, and apartment. And things to keep me occupied for the day hours that I'd spend out of the sun, as Strigoi didn't sleep.

My phone vibrated in my lap, reminding me that I had to transfer the numbers and then dispose of it. Glancing up at the lightening sky, I decided to save it until I'd stopped at a hotel, not wanting to waste any time by stopping on the side of the highway again. As I looked at the little clock on the dashboard that read 5:52 a.m., a small voice in my head told me repeatedly that I needed to find a place to stay, and that place happened to be a lodge hidden in the woods nine miles from a small town I passed through seven minutes later.

I drove down the straight gravel road leading to the lodge, my phone shaking impatiently in my lap. Soon, the trees on both sides of the road cleared, revealing seven small wooden cabins and another larger one. I bit my lip and followed the road around toward the large cabin and parked in front of it, my eyes landing on the sign that said 'Reception' in bold, white letters. Leaving the screwdriver stuck in the ignition, I got out of the car and knocked on the glass door beneath the sign. I looked around as I waited, taking note of my surroundings as I tapped my foot impatiently against the pine needle covered ground.

A little grey haired lady wrapped in a fluffy blue dressing gown answered the door and ushered me inside, and then ordered me to sit in a little old armchair while she collected a pen and a folder from the wooden desk on the other side of the room. I didn't want to stay too long, though I wanted a little time to look around the town and collect my thoughts. I paid for three nights, and then followed the lady to the smallest cabin on the site. I couldn't ignore the questioning looks she continued to send me as she showed me what cupboards held blankets and towels, and I briefly wondered if she'd seen the shattered window of the car. Then again, I was sure that the red eyes and early morning arrival would have rattled her enough. I told her I'd drove all night as I had an allergy to the sun, but I didn't know how much of my story she understood, considering my Russian wasn't really first-class.

We walked back to the main cabin in silence so I could collect my things and the lady could go back to sleep for another hour or two. I drove the Toyota around the back of my cabin, out of sight, and then tossed all the things I'd tipped out earlier back into my bag. Dropping my duffel on the wooden floor, I closed the cabin door behind me and locked it. I worked quickly, hanging blankets over the windows to block out the rising sun completely, and then sat down on the bare mattress and started working on my phones. Once all the numbers had been moved from one phone to the other, I pulled the battery out of my old phone and slid it under the couch, and then dropped the device to the floor and crushed it under my shoe, kicking all the small pieces under the bed.

After that, I took my clothes from my bag and laid them out on the bed, looking over the tops, jeans and shorts that I'd hastily packed. My heart sunk a little as I thought of the many pretty, unworn dresses that hung in the closet of the apartment I'd left, that were too long and delicate to shove in my bag in the two minute time period I'd given myself to pack. I banished the thought of driving back to Novosibirsk to collect the dresses, and instead busied myself by writing a list of clothes I'd have to buy, or unless I could find a twenty-four hour mall, steal. Shoes and other personal hygiene products went on the list as well, and though I didn't think Strigoi sweat or had hairy legs and underarms, I needed the reassurance of having them in my bag in case I found that I was wrong.

Twenty minutes later I found myself with nothing to do. And it was only 7:15 a.m. I paced the room, watched two minutes of each channel on the small TV, and listened to a Russian radio station for a half hour, trying to figure out the lyrics for all the songs that played. I then found that I could plug my iPod into the sound system, and after doing so, danced around the room to a playlist on my iPod. And then that got boring. Turning the music down, I sat down on the mattress and sighed. I stared at the clock on the wall and willed time to go faster. I really didn't understand how other Strigoi stayed sane locked inside during the day. Considering all the free time they had while the sun was up to plan and scheme, you'd think their attacks, including the one on the academy, would have been more successful.

Thinking about planning reminded me of the task I'd set myself for later that night. I'd look around the town a little, and try to work around the security systems of clothing shops. The last part was the part that needed the most planning. I may have been a badass Dhampir, but that didn't mean I knew how to disable high tech alarms. So I strategized and waited somewhat patiently for nightfall, and as soon as the moon came out, I left the cabin and went into town on foot. The walk was calming, or, as calming as it could get for a Strigoi, and I found myself in front of a little boutique in almost no time. I looked both left and right before throwing my fist through the glass door. It turned out that being Strigoi had its advantages when it came to breaking and entering. I was almost certain that the cameras wouldn't catch me, seeing as Strigoi were practically invisible to anything but eyes, but just in case it could, I made quick work of knocking the rest of the glass out of the doorframe and stepping inside. I pulled my hood over my head and then started toward the closest rack of clothes, and took one of every item in my size. The loud alarm told me I didn't have time to be picky, so I ran around the shop and pulled hanger after hanger into my arms.

I heard the distant sirens as I was shoving the clothes into the paper bags behind the counter, and as soon as everything was packed, I moved to the back of the shop and took the security tape. Then I ran out on to the street, and didn't stop until I'd arrived back at my cabin. I dropped the bags on my bed and snatched up the list of things I needed to buy off the bedside table, along with cash, and then left again. I walked back to town, smirking as I passed the two police cars parked outside the boutique, and rounded the corner to the twenty four hour Mosmart Hypermarket I'd passed on my way through earlier.

Once everything on my list was safe in my basket, I started towards the front of the shop, but a box of PopTarts stopped me dead in my tracks. They were the only food I loved that the academy didn't allow. I moved closer to the shelf they were on while I thought about buying them. I wanted them, I really did, but I didn't think Strigoi could eat normal food. Then again, I could always try. Maybe Strigoi just didn't ever want anything other than blood. I pulled them into the basket and made my way to the front of the store to pay for everything.

The girl who served me didn't take her eyes off of me for more than half a second at a time as she scanned and bagged all my things. She looked around the same age as Sonya, and had dark, greasy blonde hair and pretty freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. She gave me my total and then tried to make small talk as I reached for the money in my pocket. She was English.

"Nice contacts."

I counted out three ten dollar notes and handed them to her as the corners of my lips turned up at her naivety.

"They're not contacts," I murmured. I leaned against the counter while I waited for my change, and thought about playing with her a little. I had nothing to lose.

"If you say so . . ."

I smirked and then opened my mouth, giving her a lovely view of my new fangs. She started to stutter, the colour draining from her face as shook her head, to me or herself, I didn't know.

"N- No, that's not . . ."

I moved my face closer to hers, a sinister smile on my lips, "they're not contacts."

"They're- No! Vampires aren't real. Twilight-"

I snorted and reached for the two bags she'd packed, change forgotten, and left the store.

After dropping the last of my things at the cabin, I spent the rest of the night sorting things out. I ditched the car again, leaving it in the middle of the woods somewhere, and then found a clearing to test my new strength and speed.

I couldn't rip a tree from the ground like Edward Cullen, but I could knock it down if I tried hard enough. And I wasn't as fast as him either, which made me feel like a bit of an inferior vampire. I had to remind myself repeatedly that the Cullen's were fictional characters, and that I didn't need to get so worked up about not being as strong and speedy as them.

Though my physical abilities hadn't changed as much as I had hoped, I found the heightened senses pretty cool. And I couldn't wait to use them in battle.

The more I thought about fighting and bloodshed, the more my throat began to sting. I used the built in GPS I seemed to have to help find my way back to the main road from the clearing, and then started on the walk back into town for the third time that night. I found a bar on the outskirts of town, and smirked to myself as I walked inside and placed myself on a stool. I ordered a shot of Russian vodka and waited for the men to come.

Not long after my drink had been set down in front of me, a man sat on the chair opposite mine and introduced himself. I didn't pay much attention to his name, instead choosing to flash him my man-eater smile and bat my eyelashes seductively. In almost no time at all I found myself wedged between his body and his car outside the bar, with his tongue violently assaulting the inside of my mouth. I resisted the urge to bite his tongue off, and instead flipped us around so he was the one pressed against the car.

I left a trail of kisses down his jaw and smiled against his skin once my mouth pressed against his neck. Leaving him with one last small kiss, I sank my teeth into his flesh and hummed in delight.

If you're anything like me and hate chapters that don't contain interaction between the main character and her romantic interest/boyfriend/husband, then you probably didn't like this chapter at all. But I'd like it a lot if you reviewed anyway . . .

Oh, and I think I've started to like Rose/Christian stories a little. Maybe it's because I don't like Lissa, I don't know. I thought I'd let you know. Boring fact of the day and all that.

I'm kind of shocked at how fast I wrote this chapter. It may not have seemed that fast to you guys, but it's really hard to find the time to write most days. I think your alerts and reviews inspired me (: