Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and this work is for entertainment purposes only.

Thanks to Roswell1828 for looking out for my typos and such.

Since it's been awhile here's a brief recap:

Our narrator has discovered the true nature of her neighbor and his interest in her. She's decided to be with him even though they may be in danger. He has left to prepare for their escape.

Also, be warned that this chapter gets a little more graphic in the action department but not enough, I feel, to change the overall rating.

VI

Monday dawned cold and gray. I knew without looking that his car was gone and I tried to make myself cheerier by thinking his absence was for our good. He was preparing for our future and that should make me unreasonably happy but his absence outweighed everything else.

I called in sick. There was no way I could function at work like this. I stayed in bed most of the morning, lethargic and moody. Sleep had been difficult the night before and was even more elusive during the bleak daylight hours.

Eventually, I made a few halfhearted attempts at packing what I thought I'd need. I had little idea what the future version of me would require or where we were even going. Carlisle hadn't mentioned much about the transformation process, other than it was the most painful experience he had ever had.

I wondered if his present self resembled his human self of all those centuries ago. I gathered he was similar, but I doubted he was a carbon copy. Would I be able to see myself when I looked again in the mirror or would I see a stranger staring back at me? Could I remember what made me me?

Taking the duffel bag I had filled primarily with clothes, I emptied its contents on my bed. Clothes were inessential. I could get more clothes later. I needed things that would remind me of who I had been, to keep a small spark of the old me alive within the remodeled body. I took my most favorite and dog-eared books, quirky knickknacks I had picked up through my limited travels, photo albums and even some of my favorite perfumes, the ones that conjured memories of home.

The thought of home struck a chord in me. I hadn't thought of how my change would affect those I loved. I would have to leave them behind forever. I desperately wanted to say goodbye but how could I, without them thinking I had done the worst? I spent most of the night writing and re-writing my thoughts on paper. As I dumped another handful of crumpled paper in the bedroom wastebasket, I knew it was impossible to say what I wanted. But I kept trying until exhaustion stilled my hand and I surrendered to sleep.

By the next morning, I found the longing for him wasn't as debilitating but still very present. I could function but I thought about him frequently. I called in sick to work again. Tomorrow I wouldn't have to worry about that bland, lifeless place anymore.

It was a lovely winter day, clear and cold. I took a brief walk through the nearby park, enjoying the sun on my face. I didn't know when I would enjoy the sun again. I made a circuit through the park and made my way back to my apartment. Though it was sunny, the air was still quite chilly and my fingers and nose stung from it. I walked a little faster, carefully avoiding the leftover snow piles from a few days ago. I was nearly back, when a black car with dark tinted windows drove by me. I didn't recognize the car which wasn't all that surprising since many cars traveled through this area. What gave me pause was how deeply tinted the windows were, so dark you could see a faint outline of the driver but not distinguish his features. I shivered and continued on my way.

Rounding the curve in the sidewalk leading to my building, there was the same car that had passed me moments ago, backed into a parking space so the front faced the last cluster of doors, one of which was mine. I couldn't tell if there was a driver in the car or not. I hurried to my door a little panicked. I didn't know why the car had me on edge.

Once inside, I calmed considerably. I finished packing, deciding to take a second bag containing the clothes I tossed out of the other bag last night. I went through the motions of cleaning but my heart wasn't in it. Finding nothing else to do, I grabbed a book out of my bag and sprawled across my bed. Every so often, my eyes were diverted from the page by a sparkling drop of meltwater dripping from the roof. Content, I put my book away and sat contemplating the shimmering droplets as one by one they formed, swelled into existence and were pulled by gravity to the ground below, shimmering all the while. I wondered how those same drops looked to Carlisle. He had said his vision was much sharper than a human's. I bet he could see the reflections those drops held, when I could only see the dim shadow inside.

By late afternoon, my excitement replaced the calm of earlier. Soon he would return and we would disappear into the night together. I slipped from the bed, deciding to try to clean once again. Passing by the window, I glanced into the parking lot. The car with the dark windows was still there. I stopped and stared at the car wide eyed with a sudden knowledge. Though I couldn't see him clearly, I knew the driver was still in the car, waiting for the sun holding him hostage to set. He had come for me.

Rushing from the room with my thoughts scrambling, I tried to find something to save myself. The sun would set in forty-five minutes. If I left, whoever was in the car would follow me. If today was my last day, I'd rather it be in the place I thought of as my home and not on the highway.

Fire was the only thing that could save me. I found the lighter Carlisle had given me last night in my coat pocket. Searching every room, I gathered together anything flammable and put them next to my most flammable appliance, the gas stove. It was an ill-formed plan, shaped out of intense fear. This wasn't how I imagined my life would end at all, in a burst of flame.

As the clock ticked, the sun sunk lower on the horizon. My heart was louder than the movement of the clock's hands. I gripped the lighter tightly in my hand. Thankfully, it was small enough it didn't stick out, disguised cleverly inside my fist. I tried to swallow and found my mouth dry.

Tick. Beat. Ragged exhale. Tick. Beat. Ragged exhale. And so the pattern went unbroken, as the last rosy orange rays of the sun dimmed and I waited for Death parked in the car outside. Clock. Heart. Breath.

I was so distracted by the sounds of my heartbeats ringing through my ears that I didn't hear the locks tearing free from the doorjamb at first. He was in front of me before I could process the sound. The tall vampire in front me didn't look exceptionally menacing. Dressed in a nylon jogging suit, he looked like a friendly visitor calling on me after a late afternoon jog. Only the color of his eyes gave away what he really was and I doubted anyone saw that before he entered my apartment.

I hadn't been able to see how my hasty plan worked until I actually set it into motion. As the unknown vampire approached, I backed myself closer to the stove and its collection of liquid filled bottles. I raised my free hand higher like I was attempting to keep him away from me, keeping my fist at waist height.

His hand was on my neck, squeezing hard enough I saw black spot swimming in front of me. "You're making this too easy, sweetheart. Aren't you even going to beg for me?"

The edge of his open jacket brushed my fist. My plan was coming together so well, with one notable exception. I wasn't getting out alive. I'd rather burn then have this vampire drain me.

"I don't beg." My voice was strong and unwavering as I flicked the lighter's wheel and touched its flame to his jacket. Nylon was a marvelous fabric, melting quickly as the flames spread across his jacket. I kept the lighter close to the melting fabric, ignorant to the molten drips falling on my hand.

He noticed instantly and shoved me hard against the stove, the impact toppling and breaking some of the bottles. "Bitch," he hissed. He was frantically trying to rid himself of the jacket but it was too late; the flames had spread to the slower burning cotton underneath.

At least he had saved me some effort. He pulled away from me, allowing me the time to light the burners on the stove and ignite the flammable liquids spilled across the surface. I snatched up one of the unbroken bottles, a nearly full bottle of cheap vodka someone had given me ages ago, and broke it against the nearby counter top. Successfully showering the alcohol around me, I touched the lighter to the mess. Everything was in flame.

Heat and heavy smoke filled the room, eliciting a wail from the smoke detector. I couldn't see the vampire anymore. I hoped I burned him. It would make my death seem in vain if he hadn't burned too.

Without knowing how it happened, the heat was replaced by cold, fresh air. I had the odd sensation that I was a snowflake, drifting casually toward the white, soft world below. Perhaps I had been able to reach the balcony door before I went up in flames. Then the world went black before I touched the ground. I saw no more.