D'awww. Exactly 4,000 words. I hope you guys enjoy. Let me know what you think will happen, because I bet you don't know. (; Anyways, sorry for the wait, and thanks for all the lovely reviews! You have no idea how much they mean to me. c:

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, yadayadayada.

Last Sacrifice
Chapter 10
Good Girls Go Bad.

"If I ever believed in a God," I started with a growl, afraid that the chair I was gripping was going to break underneath the pressure of my angry fingers, "I don't now."

"I think you're being a bit over dramatic, friendly Dhampir," Sydney chided, shaking her blond head with a resigned sigh, "It wasn't as if I had a choice in this matter. We couldn't have you walking around looking like Rose, could we, Elizaveta?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your new alias," Sydney began to explain, placing her manicured hand on the back of my chair and spinning me to face her, "Elizaveta Anastayia Malikov."

I wasn't even sure if I could remember my new name; much less pronounce it as fluently as Sydney had. I willed my hands to my head, massaging my temples in a manner that I hoped would rid the headache forming right behind my eyes. I had entirely too much settling in my mind at this point in time and I wasn't ready to handle it. It was a stupid idea to see how Lissa had been doing. I knew without a doubt that I would never be able to go back there, go back to living a normal life, all because of something that wasn't my fault. It wasn't fair, but I had to force myself to remember I wasn't the only one being affected by this. Lissa was going through as much pain as I was, if not more. I knew she was alive; she thought I was dead.

Sydney's shrill voice broke the silence, "Well Miss Drama Queen!" She grinned down at me, very much oblivious to the internal war waging inside my head, "You never told me how you like your new look!"

I hated the word new, mostly because I hated the word 'change'. I hated anything that had to do with change. I liked things that were comfortable, things I was used to. My hair had stayed the same my entire life, including the rest of me. I'd dolled up with make up a few times and worn fancy dresses, but I'd always been Rosemarie Hathaway underneath it all.

Now, I was Elizaveta Malikov.

I supposed I had to understand I needed to play the part of whomever's life I was taking over. I closed my eyes and heaved in a large breath, trying to calm my nerves so they wouldn't automatically go into a seizure upon seeing myself.

Slowly I turned the chair to the mirror again, praying that the small glimpse I had seen the first time was merely a hallucination. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

I had told Sydney one thing, and that was to leave my hair alone. She'd fought for a while, but it was at least nice to see that she had maintained her promise of leaving it the right length. It still hung down past my shoulders, but was now nicely straightened and not in layered heaps. However, it was no longer a deep brunette. Instead, in its place was a bright, eye-blinding blond. It was just a little bit lighter than a Sunflower, and just a little bit darker than Sydney's (who at some point had opted to go platinum blond). My hand shakily rose and ran its fingers through the tresses, surprised at the smooth, silky feel of it. I could smell strawberries and assumed it had come from the shampoo Sydney used.

My eyes were rimmed in black eyeliner, accented with a gallon of mascara. It probably wasn't a gallon, but for a girl that never used make up to begin with, it seemed like more than enough to me. It made my eyes do this sort of 'pop' thing, causing them to stand out against the creamy tan of my skin. This, in turn, made me notice my eyes, which were now not a dark brown but a light, almost turquoise blue.

"They're just contacts, don't get your panties tied in knots," Sydney dryly comforted, stepping to stand beside me.

I swallowed, growing angrier at her assumption of my stupidity, "I figured as much, Queen Bee."

"No need to get fussy now," Sydney muttered, spinning my chair so I was once again faced away from the mirror, "Although it really doesn't matter if you like it or not. Let's go see your pops and show him the new and improved you. Oh, and your boyfriend. I'm sure he'll like what he sees."

My anger quickly turned into fury as the words came out of her mouth. I jumped from my seat and pointed a finger at her, growling with narrowed eyes, "He is not my boyfriend!" Then I promptly stalked off.

I'd find my father and Adrian when I felt it necessary, or just wait until they found me. It wouldn't be too hard to miss me. I was sticking out even though I was supposed to blend in.

I carried myself to my room, not bothering to turn the light on. I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face into the cool pillow as I formulated some kind of rational thought. I didn't know what to do. What was I supposed to do? I was now someone else entirely. I wasn't going to be fighting Strigoi beside Dimitri much less fighting any at all. Was I supposed to just be normal girl? Was I supposed to cook, clean, and go grocery shopping in my spare time? I was going to go insane quite quickly if that were the case.

I tried to focus on something that made me happy, but after all that was thrown at me today I just couldn't seem to find anything. I just laid there in the dark, incoherent thoughts swimming through my mind until finally I fell asleep.

I barely remember it, but I think at some point I had visitors. Hushed whispers didn't exactly alert me to who they were, but I do remember not caring. I felt some weight on the end of the bed, heard a few more exchanged whispers, and then the door was shut. I tried to go back to sleep afterwards but it was to no avail. I was and always will be a light sleeper; there is nothing they can do to change that, unfortunately.

I sat up in bed and threw my legs off the side. In my small slumber I had come to the conclusion that it would do me no good to wallow in self pity again. I needed to make the most of this, and maybe somehow figure out a way to be happy. I made my way to the vanity mirror positioned in the corner, finding with surprise that my makeup had not been tainted during my sleep. Water proof and sleep proof, eh, Syd? At least she was resourceful.

I ran a quick brush through my still-straightened locks and refused the urge to frown at the blond. Maybe I could convince Sydney to put a red streak in it or something; something that made me look less like I just came out of a packaged Barbie Doll box.

As I turned around, my eyes caught sight of something on the end of my bed. It was a plastic bag with something on the inside, and on top of it sat a note. It was handwritten, and I knew almost instantly it was Sydney due to the near perfect cursive. No way Adrian or my father could manage this.

Liz, It began, and I frowned.

Inside this bag are a few outfits for you. I'll bring you more as the week rolls by, but this will be your selection for now. Please don't hate me. You need to play the part, remember?

Love you,
Sydney

PS: You can beat your father up, though, if you want. The old man deserves it after drinking all my coffee.

I resisted the urge to laugh, shaking my head before setting the note aside. I was almost afraid to open the plastic bag, but it was about time I had a change of clothing. I had gone through all my clothes I had brought (which weren't much to begin with), and since I saw no suitcase sitting on my floor, I assumed Sydney had taken them. I tried not to let that anger me and pried the bag open, pulling out the two outfits she had set aside for me.

Neither was much my style that was for sure. One was a black and baby blue corset top with a large black bow in the middle, tied together in the back with multiple black laces. Black shorts accompanied it, and I was at least a little pleased with those. The second outfit was not any more or less modest, it was just simpler: Jean cutoff shorts and a strapless black halter top that showed some midriff. Some black flats were included in the bag, and I almost rolled my eyes. Of course the shoes would be comfortable.

In the middle of choosing an outfit, my eyes saw another note I had missed. It too was from Sydney and was much shorter, not going into much detail. It was an invite-or lack thereof really- stating that she and I were going to head out to the town tonight for a good time, and to get the locals acquainted with me. It was a small town, apparently where everyone knew everyone and I needed to become familiar with the people in order to fit in successfully.

Something about the note told me I had no choice, and so with a sigh, and chose the flashier of the two outfits, knowing that "going out on the town" usually meant a club or something else ridiculously social. Although this was against what I ultimately wanted, it was time I grew up and accepted that I would have to make this my life in some way or another. I just had to keep reminding myself that being dead was not a better option.

Sometimes that didn't work, though.

I glanced at the clock. Wow, had I really slept that long? I'd assumed I'd only taken a small nap, but unless the clock was lying, I'd slept for almost two hours. It was about fifteen minutes until I was supposed to meet Sydney downstairs; probably to also reveal to my father and "boyfriend" my new look.

I slid the corset over my head after taking off my other clothing and then pulled the shorts on. I slid the flats onto my feet and took one last primping in the mirror. I fixed stray hairs and ran over the lightened eyeliner with a stick that Syd had left me. At least she was thoughtful.

One more look at the clock told me that it was time for me to go so I took a deep breath and prepared myself. I opened the door and headed down the staircase, feeling unnaturally cliché. Like I predicted, my father, Adrian, and Sydney all stood at the bottom of the stairs, chit-chatting as they awaited my arrival. Adrian and my father's backs were to me, but Sydney had been facing me, and with a large grin, she nudged the two, "Here she comes!"

They turned around and almost simultaneously they dropped their jaws, both for different reasons. My father looked like he wanted to kill someone, and Adrian looked like he…well, he hadn't looked that stunned in a long time. Sydney clapped her hands excitedly and dashed up to me, grabbing my hand.

"Well you two! What do you think?"

My father looked like he was about to have a hernia with those large veins protruding from his forehead, and Adrian looked like he was going to collapse. I resisted the urge to laugh.

"I…like," Adrian muttered, sticking to his deer in headlights look.

"I…hate," My father growled, a response I could have expected.

"Good thing she's eighteen and can do what she wants, huh?" Sydney sang with a large grin before grabbing me harder and jerking me towards the door. She lowered her voice and bent down to my level, "We need to get out of here before they regain any amount of sanity. The last thing I need is to be beat to Hell by your father while watching Adrian bang you."

0000000000-x3-000000000

The trip to the club (I should go into the psychic field, seriously) was filled with Sydney talking and talking and, did I mention talking? I rarely got a word in, but that was okay by me. I didn't really mind. I opted for staring out the window during most of her rants that had to do with her bosses, her life, and whatever else. At some points it was actually comforting, I realized. For most of my life, I'd wished that I was a normal girl, that I didn't have such a responsibility of protecting Lissa; that I didn't have to risk my life every day; that I could dress up, go out and have fun whenever and however I wanted. I guess the saying rings true: Be careful what you wish for.

Finally it seemed we'd gotten somewhere, and I could hear the pounding of the club's loud bass echoing from inside. It was a small, hole in the wall, as I expected it to be. The surrounding area was filled with passing cars and pedestrians lingering around the street. I frowned; for such a small town, there sure was a lot of people…and a lot of them were Dhampirs. In fact, the more I looked around, the more the town started to look familiar.

I turned to Sydney, "Where are—"

"Oh look, a line! Poop," Sydney interrupted, and I followed her eyes. There was a long line which I immediately dreaded waiting in, but surprisingly we didn't have to. Sydney, happy with her brilliant idea, cut to the front of the line, smiled at the bouncer, and he opened up the doorway to let us in.

"What was that about?" I questioned later, raising my voice over the loud music. I had temporarily forgotten about asking her where we were.

"We used to date! He still has a thing for me," She revealed with a smirk, seemingly proud of herself and I took the inflated-ego moment to look around the room. It was packed, and I wasn't sure how many more people they could let inside without it being a fire hazard. I felt naked and exposed as a ton of eyes turned to look at me, so I raised my arms up to cover my chest, a shiver running through my body.

"Don't be so modest, Ro—Liz," She caught herself, wagging her finger, "You look stunning, guys should be staring!"

"I don't want to be a piece of meat, Syd," I retaliated, shaking my head.

"Oh get used to it! You were once a going-to-be-famous Strigoi hunter, you should be used to tons of eyes!" She turned to smile at the bartender, curling her hair in her fingers.

"Too bad I'm not anymore…" I muttered in disappointment, eying the scenery. No one looked any kinds of appealing, and although I could feel a few Dhampir presences in the club, I didn't feel like seeking them out. I felt like blending in, even though I knew that, with this outfit, it was quite near impossible.

Opting to talk to Sydney, I turned to find her, but instead found empty air. She had apparently decided I was no longer worth the time and fled to the dance floor where I caught her grinding on some tall, blond male. I momentarily wondered if she did this often, but shook my head. No use dwelling on it. She could take care of herself.

"And so can I," I stated to myself with determination. Walking to the bar Sydney had previously been at, I took a seat on one of the bar stools. There were a few people residing on similar stools a few away from me, but otherwise the majority of the people were out on the dance floor.

"You new here, Милая?"

My eyes snapped up, meeting bright green ones. I furrowed my eyebrows, scooting back some to get a better look at who it was. I still had no idea, but due to the fact that he was behind the counter and not next to me, I could only assume he was the bartender.

It was only then that I realized what he had said—or, didn't say. I couldn't understand him, even though I'd spent so much time with my pure Russian instructor. He'd said a few things to me here and there, and of course the times I bugged him to tell me some curse words, but other than that, I didn't know much. I wasn't sure if I should be flattered, disgusted or angry, but judging by the look on his face, I guessed it was a combination of all three.

He was judging my look, too, and with a scoff, he waved his hand in a nonchalant gesture, "It means 'my pretty one', literally," He chuckled, running a hand through his thick, choppy brunette strands, "Now I hope I don't have to regret telling you that. If I must though, I prefer you slap this cheek," he pointed to his right one with a grin, "And not the other. It's already been brutally abused tonight."

I couldn't help but let a small laugh escape my lips. If anything, the man knew how to be charming. It was a small refresher from the idiotic boys I'd dealt with my entire life, and of course, the kind of man Dimitri was; cold and unresponsive. While Dimitri refused to let his emotions show in public, and hardly at all even in private, this man seemed unafraid of any consequences. That was a nice attribute, until you considered the other traits it came with. I couldn't deal with a man that slept around or was flirtatious enough to take slaps to the cheek regularly. This of course didn't even include his age in the equation.

"Ah, so the young one finds me funny," He wiggled his eyebrows, and I noticed that he had a thick Russian accent, a little bit stronger than the one Dimitri had used. It was, unfortunately, very endearing. "Er, if you don't mind me asking…how young, exactly?"

I considered the question carefully, wondering what the appropriate answer would be to tell him. Swallowing, I answered with trepidation, "Twenty-one."

He looked relieved and let his lips form into his Cheshire grin, "Good, good. Legal and legal," He winked at me, retrieving a glass from beneath the counter and sliding it across the bar to me. He grabbed a bottle and began to pour the dark liquid into the glass, "You look like a lady that prefers wine. Am I right?"

"Uh…Yes," I answered, all too suddenly realizing that I wasn't holding very much of a conversation and he was the one that was doing all the talking, "You got that right, love," I gave him a wink back before sliding my lithe fingers around the glass and taking a sip. I refused the urge to make a face. I'd had some wine before, but I forgot what a bitter taste any amount of alcohol had.

"Now, how 'bout you and I—"

"Leave her alone, Alecksandr."

I froze, my fingers clenching around the wine glass. I was close to breaking it and had to set it down, glad that I had enough common sense to realize that much. Swallowing, I waited for whatever it was to ensue, hoping that I would have no part of it. I couldn't afford it, not this early on.

But why was he here?

"Ah, you know I was just having a little fun, D," 'Alecksandr' stated with a wave of his hand. His eyes returned to me, the smirk slithering back onto his face, "And I do believe she was enjoying the attention, right, Miss…? Ah…well, what is your name?"

"Just like you, Alecks," He spoke, and without looking I heard him take a seat on the stool next to me, "To flirt before asking for a name."

"Bah humbug," Alecks grunted, "Anyways, Милая, your name?"

I stumbled for a bit, forgetting my name and how to pronounce it. Eventually, though, I felt it slide onto my tongue and with a newly renowned desire to say it correctly (if only to impress him), I spoke.

"Elizaveta Malikov," I purred, trying to find a different voice that I liked enough to do, "But you can call me Liz."

Silence consumed us for a moment, and I wondered what was going on. That was the bad thing about not wanting to look to my right; I was blinded to what exactly was being exchanged. Glancing at Alecks, though, I could see that some kind of staring match was ensuing, and after a few more silence minutes, Alecks sighed and took my now empty glass.

"I'll leave you two alone," He grunted begrudgingly, maneuvering a glass over to the area next to me, "For whatever reason," then he stalked off.

"Elizaveta, hm?" He spoke, and I felt my body tense. I hoped to God he wouldn't recognize me or notice, so I sat there silently praying while keeping my eyes off him,

"Nice to meet you. I'm Dimitri."

Oh Lord.

"Ah, Dimitri," I murmured, not yet used to his name coming off my tongue again, "What brings you here?" I couldn't help but ask him.

He was quiet for some time before responding, "Visiting family. I'm actually from the United States. And you? I used to visit this area quite frequently and I don't ever remember seeing you…"

"New to this area, but a native Russian," I answered quickly, maybe too quickly. I laughed quietly, as did he.

"I'll be honest," He began then, "I'm only here because I can't bare to be elsewhere. And I'm only at this bar because I can't bare to face reality."

Either Dimitri was really open with everyone but me, or he had already gotten a few drinks in him. The latter seemed more likely at this point, especially since I could smell the alcohol radiating off his breath which was hitting me in severe waves. I wanted to hold my breath, but the opportunity to talk to him was something I just couldn't miss. I just had to tread the waters carefully. Very, very carefully.

"Reality?" I questioned quietly, swallowing, "What about reality can't you stand?" Please, oh please, tell me you love me...

It appeared he hadn't gotten too many drinks in just yet, because I could see him shake his head from my peripheral vision, "Nothing I care to talk about."

I nodded and held my breath. I couldn't bare it anymore. I had to look. I had to see him. I had to make sure that my ears weren't deceiving me; that this really was him, flesh and blood sitting next to me. I let my guard down momentarily and began to turn my head to face him, my heartbeat thudding so loud I was afraid he would hear it. I was so terrified that he would recognize me by any little thing. My voice, my looks, my scent; anything.

And as my eyes met those of the man who'd I'd trained with, who I'd slept with, who I'd fallen in love with, I knew that my fears were about to become a reality.

His eyes widened and he gasped, "R-Rose…?"