Have you seen that new option to upload pictures? Once it's working properly, depending on how good the feature is, I'll probably delete that crappy little website thingee I made and just link you to the playlist (not that anybody really bothers with them)

Oh, and, on a little side note, I was watching the pageant for the Queen's Jubilee on TV and saw the flats that our characters were living in. Looks like they aren't on fire in real life ;)

I didn't have a plan. Of course I didn't have a plan.

I'd thought I'd become a little more mature over the past six months, and, in a sense, I was correct. Living like this had hardened me. I'd never had it particularly easy, but I'd never had to completely fend for myself before. I'd always had somebody there doing it for me, watching me back and cleaning up after me if I slipped. Living in London, I was the only person keeping us three alive. It was just a magic stroke of luck that nothing had happened to us. Don't think I take that for granted. There just wasn't much time to contemplate it.

But, on the other hand, I'd also become more reckless. I'd always been a rash person at heart, but before going to the Academy, I'd been far too polite to ever do anything. I'd been raised to be slightly submissive, able to get my point across when necessary but never saying too much for fear of getting into trouble. Trouble had always frightened me. The slightest scolding and I'd feel the waves of shame carrying me away from the safe harbour and still waters I preferred to reside in. Yet I'd found myself become increasingly braver as I grew up. Sure, I wasn't fearless. Heights scared me until I lost my wits and there were many other things I was afraid of; some pointless, but most completely worth the worry. However, in London, I'd lost all pretences of normality and just went with my heart.

It was a new experience, following my gut. I'd trained myself to listen to my brain, and a balance between the two was imperative in the profession that Rose had been training me for. But completely going with my first decision was all new. I felt a thrill, a jolt in my veins, every time I was able to make this decision for myself. Maybe it was linked to my insatiable wanderlust, only recently discovered. I'd never moved before the Academy. I'd lived in the same house all 13 years of my life. But experiencing America and this whole new world made me crave a change. I got bored of everyday life, and I realised that I wanted to see how other people lived. Money had always been tight with my family, and the only holidays I'd ever been on abroad were the handful of trips to Europe with the school, where most of the days were taken up with working.

I thought of all the places I wanted to visit. LA, Berlin, St Petersburg, Rome...

But I'm rambling now. Maybe I'm trying to explain to you that what I chose to do may not have been entirely in our best interests, nor was it a particularly good idea. At the time I felt like a criminal mastermind, a superhero of sorts. I thought it was the only option. If I'd slept that night, discussed the possibility with Adrian, we could've migrated to a small town to attract less attention and just move somewhere where the guardians would never think to look, and neither would the Strigoi. We could've integrated ourselves into society, knowing which paths to take and learning from our failures the first time around.

But I didn't. Becca and I ran away from London in the early hours of the morning, laughing as the wind whipped our hair, carrying our giggles into the night. We felt like stereotypical rebellious teenagers, forgetting the weight of our own beings on our backs, the problems we brought on ourselves simply for being who we were. We were free, and nothing mattered anymore.

I'll tell you now, so that you can learn for yourself, that everything is too good to last.

Third Person

The man woke up and blinked, bleary-eyed, staring at the scene around him. There wasn't much to take in, yet his eyes widened in shock and his heart thundered against his ribcage as he realised he had absolutely no idea where he was. The sun blinded him briefly and he squinted against it, sitting up and leaning on one elbow. He was in a field, one which would be filled with rapeseed in the summer, but was simply dewy grass on this cold winter morning. The air was freezing, and he wished he had a jacket near him, but he'd left it in the car.

The car!

The man scrambled to his feet, stretching up on his tiptoes and peering around. There wasn't a sign of civilisation for miles. Where even was he? He tried to remember what had happened last night. Did he go out with friends and pass out, drunk, in the field? No. His friends were nice. They wouldn't have left him there. He was at work. He was serving clients. He was...

He was driving those two teenage girls to Snaresbrook. He remembered it only dimly, the over confident girl with the long brown hair and her tall blonde friend, both of them looking a little worse for wear, yet he'd chosen not to comment on it. Yet why couldn't he remember anything after fifteen minutes of driving? Why couldn't he remember dropping them off at Snaresbrook?

The answer hit him almost immediately.

He didn't.

He never got to drop them off. The girls must've hijacked his taxi! He patted his pockets and found them empty, having left his mobile in the taxi along with everything valuable and important for his job. He swore to himself, spitting profanities as he followed the road in some desperate attempt to find a nearby town. He'd have to inform his boss, tell the company what happened. What would they do? Would he lose his job? Where was the taxi now? Teenage girls.

He sighed and shook his head.

Never trust a woman.