Amy cries out in frustration of her rapidly growing body. "This isn't fair!" she screams to herself, hoping Raphael isn't around to witness such odd behavior, although she knew if he was around, he wouldn't be able to stay away from her. How annoying, she thinks to herself, searching her room for something to soak up the blood flowing between her legs more effectively. She finds an old pair of dark blue panties that don't fit her anymore since her hips widened, but she is thankful she held onto them now. She folds it and places it between herself and the pair of panties she has on, just moments before she hears Raphael approaching her room. Of course, she loved his attention but not at this particular time. He was always drawn to her blood, no matter how much or where it came from. This made her very self-consious and nervous to the point where she started leaving the house for days at a time, but Raphael was always one step ahead of her. He knew it was coming before she did. She tried to keep track of her cycle as best as she could, but being a teenager with a fairly new and irregular one made it useless to even try when Raphael could smell it days in advance. There was no getting around it.

She dries her freshly rinsed hands on a thick, clean towel and greets Raphael, speechless.

"Going somewhere?" he asks knowingly.

"...No," she answers, not sure where or how she could leave now, being in Raphael's presence.

"Liar," he teases, sitting down on her bed. Her lies never bothered him. He was the only one who saw through them, and if it weren't for her lies, they never would have ended up being so close. He tosses a familiar bottle of juice in her direction. "Here. You'll need this today."

She catches the contained liquid, feeling a bit embarassed.

"Stop doing that!" she scolds, unappreciative. Her face burns bright red with quick embarassment and anger.

"Doing what? I'm just making sure you have enough energy. I know how tired you get when-"

"Stop it! I don't want to think about you thinking about that. It's weird. I can get it myself, you know." She quickly clutches on to her side, immediately losing her grip on her drink. She contracts the middle of her body to lessen the sudden, sharp pain, moaning in discomfort.

"Are you alright?" he asks her, rushing to her side.

"I'm FINE!" she insists rather angrily, unmoving with her hand on the side of her stomach as if it stops the pain. She rises to her feet, heading toward her bed when she trips.

"You can get it yourself?" he mocks the weak girl whose knees land on the floor before him. She growls at his ironic comment and stands up, still shaking, helped to her bed by Raphael. "I don't know why you keep insisting on leaving the house when you're this weak. What you need is to rest. Let me take care of you, sweetheart."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she scowls at the much older man, who kisses her forehead.

"Your mood swings are cute." He means this in all honesty, but Amy never takes him seriously. She simply takes this as one more way to embarass her during that time of the month. This actually infuriates her, because she never tries to be cute when she bleeds, but she always comes to her senses when it's over. She always realizes how illogical she can be. If it weren't for these realizations, Raphael wouldn't be so playful with her.

She lets out a low groan and rolls to her side, facing away from Raphael, still holding her side.

"Do you need anything?" he checks, noticing how weak and hurting she is.

"I want my juice!" she cries out. He picks up the fallen sugary drink and returns it to Amy.

"Thank you," she manages to say as she brings herself to sit up and drink it. Her back rests against the wall, the rest of her, limp. He watches her from the edge of her bed. "Did you find any more?"

"This was all they had," he responds softly.

"I'm not talking about the juice," she weakly states before laying back down. "The cure?"

"No."

"...I don't want to be human anymore." An odd silence fills the room after she says this.

"You're only saying that because you feel sick. Don't forget how sick you became when you first became a vampire. That lasted for months," he points out, quickly being argued.

"No! I never wanted to be human again! What's the point? I'm just going to die someday. I'd rather suffer forever if it means staying with you!" the moody teenager blurts.

"Why didn't you just tell me that, Amy?" he asks after a moment of silence.

"Someone has to take care of you," she vaguely adds, yet a very straightforward answer it is, coming from her.

"I can take care of myself," he reminds, a bit confused, which shows in his face.

"What if you starve to death in the middle of nowhere?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. I would do anything for you. Even if that means literally having the blood sucked out of me to save-"

"Amy! Don't talk like that!"

"It's true."

"No, it's not. You know I would never hurt you."

She thinks of the scar on her chest, but says nothing. She knows that isn't what he means, and besides, he did it because he thought it was in her best interest. Whether or not it actually was, didn't matter. Only his intentions mattered, and she knew this.

"Then turn me back," she demands, staring him in his glowing, charismatic eyes relentlessly. "Otherwise I'll just turn into dust. I know you don't want that."

"Amy... you're absolutely right. But it would be selfish of me to want you to go through that kind of suffering just because of how I feel. And I know you may feel this way now, and I don't doubt that you do, but I suggest you think it over. We may never find more of the cure, and if that's the case when I turn you back, you may end up really regretting it."