In the end, he doesn't take me to Kirova's office.

He doesn't even take me to his, or to the detention room, or any other room in the actual academic facility.

No, he takes me to Dimitri.

Stan has always been a short man, both in mind and body. He's made it blatantly clear over the years; every time I lose account of his last dumb antic he drops in another barbarity, as if I could ever forget his genetically-ingrained and cyclic stupidity. Today, just as my rage over his cocky exhibition this morning was starting to get buried under the brooding, more important threat with the name of Shawn Reyes, he had to go and remind me exactly why I'm still in the school.

Because nobody can be stupid enough to keep my school record in the cupboard just under their table and hide the key inside the lock. Until you meet Stan that is. And then to wonder how I still, to this date, have never accumulated enough red marks for a formal suspension.

All the while aware of the white liquid we call Typex. That and a rubber.

And not only that, but when I say Dimitri I literally mean- wait for it- Studio A.

The elevator dings and Stan yanks me out, stomping with his sausage-like legs to the end of the hall. I trail, deadpan, behind him. I stopped putting up any resistance the moment he and his saliva made sure I knew where we were going.

The door bangs open; Stan doesn't knock. Dimitri, already dressed in his training slacks and short-sleeved t-shirt, glances up from where he was studying the shelf full of CDs. His eyes run over, very delicately, Stan's rabid face, his green hair, then slowly to his fingers around my arm and finally come to a stop on my 'I-didn't-do-a-thing' face.

I have to give it to him. He can hold his cool.

I, on the other hand, can already feel the drool accumulating at the edge of my mouth, a polar opposite to my long-nailed pal. As a sly scan from the corner of my eye reports, Stan's set jaw remains religiously intact. Well, shit.

Was I in his shoes I'd already be gay.

"What's the problem, Guardian Alto?"

"Belikov, thank the Lord." Drama queen. "Hathaway has been giving me a migraine all morning, and now this." He points at his head, as if anybody needed him to point it out. "This!" He pinches the edge of his nose. "I know you came to me earlier with a case for her, but I can't possibly forgive this. I think we both agree on that this can't go unpunished."

"I didn't-" Dimitri silences me with a look. I bite my lip.

He nods. "I agree." There's a pause in which he seems to be carefully picking his words. "Though I have come to trust my student, and I find it difficult to believe that she'd commit such a foolish… atrocity only a few months away from her graduation. What gave you the impression she was to blame?"

"Are you questioning my word, Belikov?"

"No," Dimitri sighs, "of course not. I'm taking it then that you've heard her side of her story."

Stan is taken aback. Ha, you expected Dimitri to ally with you, didn't you? "Well, no, but-"

"It wasn't me!" I interrupt, shrugging off Stan's limp arm. I can't stop myself. I take a step towards Dimitri. "I didn't do it, Dimitri, I swear-"

"Guardian Belikov." Growls Stan, taking too a step forwards. "You will direct yourself properly to your superiors."

My whole mood darkens. "You can go to hell-"

"Miss Hathaway," Dimitri cuts in, sharply, "you are out of line. Guardian Alto, please excuse her poor behaviour. Thank you for bringing her here first and not directly to the Headmistress. You have been very kind. I'll take it from here."

Stan blinks. "I wasn't planning on leaving her here. I was taking her to my classroom now, with the other kids. That'll teach her a lesson."

My jaw drops. "What?! But-"

"Shut it, Hathaway. If I were you I'd be glad I'm not spending the afternoon picking up my dignity from Headmistress Kirova's office floor. Belikov?"

But I have training, I want to scream. But I keep my mouth shut, because I know it could be worse. Much, much worse.

Dimitri sighs. "Father Andrew needed a hand with organising the Church's library. Perhaps it is wiser to have her doing some Community Service."

Stan ponders it. Then; "No, too kind. That she'll be doing all her weekend. Believe me, Belikov, a thousand lines and she'll cease these stunts faster than a bird falls from the sky."

"Fair enough." Dimitri looks at his clock. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Guardian Alto, Novice Hathaway. I have a team to train."

Stan turns briskly and grasps me once more by the elbow, moving to the exit. I dig in my feet in slight panic, searching for Dimitri's impassive and bottomless eyes.

"Di- Guardian Belikov, wait! Will we train at all this afternoon?"

I mean our one-to-one session, the one after team training, and he shakes his head. "No. I'll see you tomorrow, Novice Hathaway."

And just like that, I can feel my shoulders sag. Just as we're exiting the elevator on the ground floor, I see Adrian and Sydney, heading for the building. They stare at me questioningly, and I swallow, mouthing: "Mia."

I don't know if they caught it, but I soon lose them from sight and sigh.

Shawn and Mia 1, Rose 0.

The motel room is just as I left it this morning when I finally arrive, setting my keys noisily on the entrance table. The place is small, claustrophobic even, but I'm not about to start complaining for the little I pay each night. I'm hoping to get an apartment somewhere soon for myself, one which doesn't include depressing themes such as the picture just atop my bed of an English meadow under a raging storm (which is creepy as hell and to my disgust, stuck with chewed gum), but it isn't so easy when money is so scarce. I can barely afford the necessities for myself, and if it weren't for Sydney and Adrian's kindness of allowing me early pay-checks until I'm fully settled, I wouldn't be eating at all.

Sighing, I move to the kitchen, hoping for some miracle in which I've dropped in an alternative universe that doesn't contain a Stan Alto. However, the universe being the dark humourist it is, winks at me delightedly from under the blaring white lights of my small kitchen in the form of a stack of papers.

Stan's assignment. For tomorrow. Yes, even after copying out a thousand lines I'm still expected to write out a nearly full assignment in less than two hours. Or well, that is if I sleep at all.

I make myself a hot chocolate before continuing with it, sipping peacefully from the steamy cup. Today has been draining, both mentally and physically.

Being happy all the time is fucking tiring.

Still, I focus on my task. As hard as I find to admit it, I know Stan is right. I'm lucky to still be here. Had Kirova heard of the incident I'm pretty sure right now I'd be on my way to a blood-whore commune, all-inclusive. The fact that I'm not proves that I have indeed much to thank Stan for.

However, halfway through the piece I can feel my eyelids start to plummet, and the tiredness sneaking in, to stay. Through blurry lenses I type out a whole paragraph in one go, not giving a shit about references or even proper punctuation, before allowing myself to close my eyes for a millisecond.

Now all I want is sleep.

But instead, here I am. Doing an assignment for Satan himself.

Suddenly, Dimitri's silky voice slips into my brain.

You've always known it wouldn't be easy, Rose. Don't let him think he's won.

Oh, that's right. Because I totally signed up for Stan and his menopause.

I rub my eyes wearily and eye the kitchen clock. A groan escapes my lips. It's 1 am. I'm tired. I shouldn't be writing this- it's pointless, anyway. Who the hell sends out a full assignment about the importance of Guardianship? Give me a break. If I haven't written 'Princess Vasilisa Dragomir entrusts me with her life and needs my protection because...' in twenty different ways with twenty different reasons, then let a Strigoi barge in here right now.

I don't think that was the point of the exercise.

Oh, for God's sake. Dimitri's voice shouldn't even be here.

Why the hell am I still writing this, again?

Because if you don't, Stan will skin you alive.

Yeah, like that even matters. I'd like to see him try. If he didn't fry my ass when he thought I'd made his hair green, then I'm pretty sure I'm invincible.

You do realize-

That same moment, my phone decides to ring. Feeling happy for an excuse to avoid Stan's paper and Dimitri's freaky ghostly coaching inside my head for as long as possible, I flip out my phone, answering flippantly as though it's not the middle of the vampire night at all.

"Hey Liss."

"Rose? Rose! Oh my God! You are aware- You know what, it doesn't matter. Where are you?"

"I'm home," I respond, dubiously. "Why? What's wrong?"

She knows that by 'home' I mean my two-hundred square feet overly crammed cubicle. Lissa actually offered me to stay with her and Christian inside campus, her small apartment being exclusively a courtesy of Kirova, but I refused. I don't want to be intruding into their life, and quite frankly, their constant sweet teasing and touching drives me nuts.

"Can you switch the TV to The Vampies?"

I frown, but force some light-heartedness into my tone despite the apprehension bleeding into my skin. "Wow Liss, that's the emergency? By the way, thanks for asking but no I haven't been kicked out-"

"Rose, please!" Her frustration cuts through me, multiplied by the fact that I can feel it as if it were in my own bones. "This is serious. Quick."

The Vampies is one of the only informative Moroi channels in the U.S.A. It's infamous, particularly because many Moroi prefer to remain ignorant of any tragedies occurring to their own kind, but also due to its name. Some find offensive being referred to as vampires, Lissa included.

The fact that she's watching the channel in the first place makes what she's got to say a hell lot more intriguing and, well, alarming. As if on cue, a gut-wrenching feeling begins to build up in my stomach.

I know this feeling. It's not the one I feel when Strigoi are near, but the one that warns me something awful is about to happen.

The hairs at the back of my neck stand up.

"Um, yeah," I cover the receiver and mentally thank Sydney for installing the channel on the miniature TV while whispering to myself, "where the fuck did I leave that remote?"

I start patting around and lifting cushions from the sofas, trying to locate the object. The light-bulb is old and emits a soft, almost non-existent glow, so I basically see shit, and my patience is wearing thin. Growling, I finally see it peeking from under the mat on the floor- how the hell did it get there?- and snatch it like a cobra biting her pray.

Pressing the 'ON', I wait for the screen to blink and give some sort of sound. After ten seconds of heavy breathing down the line and a blank screen, I come closer and give the TV a kick.

The screen flickers on.

"I'm not even going to ask what that sound was."

"Good."

I waste no time, changing the channel from that stupid music station that the motel insists on blaring all day long-

"Holy shit."

"I know."

It's Natalie. Natalie freaking Dashkov. Lissa's cousin.

What the fuck is she doing?

"What's going on, Liss?"

"Listen."

I tune in to what the Moroi reporter is saying.

"...who, according to her parents and boyfriend, disappeared without a trace around two years ago. Thanks to the police and recent camera footage it has been discovered that the girl infiltrated St Vladimir's under unknown circumstances - those of which are still under investigation -, possibly using her disguise as a nurse, and into the room where she'd later reside under Doctor Olendzki's care. In the meantime, the former denies all possibilities of a confusion or break-in into room 7, in fact, she insists on that the girl - who she confused as a perturbed student - had fallen and received a bad blow to the head and as an undergraduate in need Miss Lazar had been immediately subjected to the Academy's medical care."

The breath gets stuck in my throat.

I gasp. "What-?"

The setting has switched. Now all I see is Doctor Olendzki, in her white uniform, hunched over the microphone of the insistent reporter. In the background, I can see the familiar contorts of the Academy's infirmary building.

"Doctor, what do you remember from the patient in room 7, Avery Lazar?"

There's an ever-there confused look etched into the lines of her face. I recognize that look, from seeing it on the people who've crossed Lissa under wrong circumstances. The post-compulsion Bambi look.

"Um," she blinks sluggishly, "I didn't get to hear her name, actually. She fell that same night, right onto my colleague's desk, and she was out cold. I put her in room 7 because there was no-one there, and I thought she could stay until she woke up. She didn't have any purses or personal belongings on her."

Her voice sounds almost melancholic, strongly possessed. Dream is dancing in her gaze.

"Of course, Doctor." The feminine voice is silky and laxative, inviting the doctor to bring about her chest of secrets. "What can you say about your whereabouts in the moment of her capture?"

Doctor Olendzki frowns. "Who says she was captured? She might've just walked away! Some people can get very anxious about waking up in an unknown environment-"

"Ah, but Doctor, we have a witness."

Doctor Olendzki is gone, replaced by the familiar contorts of Natalie's round face. Her jade green eyes, identical to Lissa's, jump with terror when they meet the camera's lens.

"Miss Dashkov, can you recount the events of the night in question?"

Natalie bites her lip. "Yeah, of course. I had caught a flight to Montana to see my cousin- she's here, studying-" Lissa! "-but this guy, I didn't get his number, crashed into me from the right while I was driving home. Wasn't anything too bad, just a breach, but my head hurt and I thought I could get a look at it. I logged the nearest hospital into my GPS but nothing came up- silly me, this is Montana!" She laughs nervously, but swallows harshly when nobody joins in. "I just thought I'd pass by the Academy's on my way to my cousin's apartment… And then... Well, I saw her."

The reporter's head bobs up and down mechanically, and seemingly satisfied, she flashes a private smile at the camera. "Aha, nothing we didn't know before. Miss Dashkov, what did you see exactly? Can you repeat it for the camera, please?"

Natalie nods fervently, locks of jet black hair flying across her face.

I can't believe this is happening.

"She was very pale. Really, really pale, as in her skin shone in the darkness. Not her hair, though. That was dark. I thought at first that she was just a nurse getting off a shift- she was wearing a nurse uniform, after all- but then I saw her eyes..." Natalie closed her eyes, as if trying to erase something from her memory. "She was no nurse. She looked desperate, insane. Crazy. Nurses don't do crazy. They do good. Smile. She didn't smile at me. She sneered. Nurses don't sneer!"

The reporter lays a comforting hand on Natalie's shoulder for show before staring, unruffled, at the camera. Her lips are set in a slight curve, as though everything coming out of Natalie's speech is already well familiar to her.

"And she wasn't alone."

My ears start ringing at this point. The remote is slippery in my palm, my hand gripping it so hard that it feels alight with sweat. The breath gets stuck in the back of my throat and the air squeezes out of it, slowly but surely, leaving me breathless.

"There was someone with her. I couldn't say exactly whom, it was so dark, but it was a man- maybe around twenty years-old?- with broad shoulders and a sharp jaw, very handsome. He was gripping her arm so tightly I was afraid he'd- she looked so anxious- he threw her over his shoulders as if she weighed nothing! She was crying..." Her voice chokes up. "She didn't want to go with him- she was wailing so loudly- I had to alert the Guardians-"

My head is pounding and faintness is making my eyelid twitch.

I can't keep up with this crap. Not now, not anymore, not ever.

"Rose?"

Lissa's voice is soft through the phone, but I don't want to hear her attempts at comfort, or anything. I don't want to hear it.

Avery was never my enemy.

True, as I now realize, someone helped her get into the Academy. She couldn't have gotten in by herself, not through the Guardians at the front gate nor through the 24/7 patrol. She also couldn't have known I'd be in the infirmary at that moment, not unless someone told her about the letter and me fainting.

However, whether she allied with Jesse or not to seek her revenge is now well besides de point. Whoever dragged her away, most certainly Jesse by Natalie's description, did it by force. She might've acted like a spiteful nut-case, but above all, she is a victim. Just like me.

God knows what will happen to her now that she's with them again.

Still, despite it all - worst of all – is the dawning feeling of utter culpability. It was so easy to let myself believe that Avery was nothing less than insane, so easy to let ignorance work its magic. Now, as the guilt starts filling me up inside, I have the urge to vomit.

I don't know how many other girls there are. I don't know their ages, or their names, or if they even exist. All I know with certainty is that Avery is one of them.

And that is most definitely my fault. It's me who left her there defenceless, no? Who left her there passed out and alone, with only a zombie as her line of defence, like a wrapped gift. For fuck's sake, it's my fault she was captured in the first place! She never lied. The reporter's words on her abrupt disappearance two years ago, contributed by her parents and boyfriend, are proof of that.

I have always thought that Avery was the mad one. I was always so sure of my innocence, convinced that I don't deserve all the self-beating, that I have the right to be happy.

What a fucking joke.

At least Avery fought to get her vengeance. At least she went for what she felt was right. At least she tried.

And failed.

But she tried, I repeat inside my head, growling at the voice. She tried, and here I am, acting as if nothing were my fault, as if I had nothing to do with any of it.

Who's the insane one now?

And not only that, pipes up the little voice inside my head. He knows where you are. He's known it since he sent the letter addressed to you through Adrian. How do you think Jesse came for Avery? He knew she'd be there, just as he knew Adrian was heading for you, just like he probably knows where each of your friends are in this exact moment.

Now they could all be in danger. Because of you.

I freeze. No. Please.

Frosty laughter erupts inside my head, malicious and familiar.

I can feel his icy, ragged breath in my ear.

You will never get rid of me, Rosie.

The suffering, the threats, all the lives on the line…

It's all real. It's all true. And it's all my fault.

"Rose, are you okay?"

Lissa's gentle voice somehow cuts through my jumbled thoughts, but I'm unable to bear it. All I can think of is that I don't deserve her kindness, or her sympathy. I don't even deserve to hear her voice.

"No," I breathe. My voice sounds like broken shards of glass even to my own ears. "I'm not okay."

In a daze I end the call, the phone sliding from my fingers and falling with a clang on the faintly carpeted floor. To my horror, I wobble on my feet. I want to clutch the armchair, that looks more steady than I am, but my knees buckle under me and I collapse on a hip onto the cold, merciless floor.

I don't want to move. I don't want to think.

The darkness is swallowing me. It's cold, but strangely comforting. I'm safe under its coat of oblivion, I know I am. How much damage can someone do to oneself, anyway?

As if in condemnation, it speaks, its sultry voice as crystalline as dark waters.

It's all your fault. If you hadn't left, the other girls would still be save and around. Unscarred. Look at Avery. Her life was ruined because of you. You came here, Jesse came after you. If he ever found the true extent of your new friendships, he'd ruin them all. He'd kill them all, one by one, until you begged for him to take you back.

Avery's words from that day in the hospital room repeat themselves in my head.

I was a normal teenager. I had parents, a family, friends… A boyfriend. I got a scholarship and left to Michigan, planning to study psychology so I could open a consult with Simon…

I never got there. He took me. Because of you. Because you were so self-centred that you escaped, forcing him to get other girls to make his work on. Because you were a selfish stupid whore that couldn't be bothered to make sacrifices. And now, other girls are paying the price.

I feel numb.

Because of you.

Because of me.

Because you were a selfish stupid whore that couldn't be bothered to make sacrifices.

Because I'm a selfish stupid whore that can't be bothered to make sacrifices.

And now, other girls are paying the price.

I rock myself. My lips tremble. I start whispering under my breath.

"It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault..."

I'm falling. The ground is falling underneath me, and I'm falling. That moment with Eddie, the day in school as a somewhat normal teenager, the momentary relief- it's long buried now.

I'm falling.

The ground is falling under me.

And there's no-one there to catch me.

A/N:

BOOOOM!

As promised, here's the chap! I've been working on it for ages now so I really hope you like it :{D

So whatcha think? The nurse FINALLY has a name! Natalie's now been introduced and Jesse's rearing his ugly head again. Can anybody guess what'll happen next? *wiggles eyebrows* Do drop me a review with your thoughts ^-^

Until next timeeee!

P.S. WE'VE REACHED 10K VIEWSSS! Yipeeeeee