Sierra PoV

The songs Jan's son blared out in his bedroom only worsened my guilt. Currently, it is 'Every Breath You Take' by The Police, causing a relentless flood of saddened water in beads to rush down my cheeks. Jan attempted desperately to compose me, but I couldn't be calmed. For once, I have submitted completely to a weakness. Guilt never ceases to cascade through everything I am. Once Star came into the house with an invitation from myself, she trapped herself in the guest room at the back of the house, and hasn't came out since. We both know what Michael is now. He is one of them, a monster. He had no choice. If I hadn't involved myself, if Star hadn't enticed him for her and Laddie's benefit, it could have been so easily prevented. When we were driving away, I heard Michael scream. I could have stopped the car, could have sprinted back to him and allowed him to accompany us. I could have saved him. I wished to help him, but he is far from help now. Michael is one of them.

Thankfully, there had been a motivation for me to cease weeping earlier on, that motivation being Laddie wanting to play a game after his bath. Once Star and I prepared Laddie for bed, we entered the lounge again where Jan had informed me that he and Charlotte were going to bed. For two whole hours, we just cried with each other, comforting each other. I never denied what Star did was wrong, but I continued my endeavour to alleviate her as a friend would do. Afterwards, we both admitted we need some solitary times to ourselves, but it hasn't aided me so far. I checked in on Star earlier before returning to the lounge, and she was asleep with Laddie's teddy clutched in her fingers.

His screams for me to stop the cars motioning echo throughout my memories, those silent tears being pressed out of my eyes with ease. He wanted me to stop the car, I could have rescued him. He made a treaty with the devil though, and so, was chained to it and shall be for the rest of his immortal life. I just pray that he'll show up at the door, taking me in his arms and whisper to me that he is safe, that he is human and has survived. That is only a mere glitter of hope, and as I pray for it, the flickering flame from the candle diminishes hastily, resembling that hope and the reality of it. Michael isn't human anymore.

I can't help but listen to The Police song in the background, surely others must be hearing this song from miles away. How Jan and Charlotte sleep through it I have no idea. With my motions quivering from the lack of energy I possess, I meander to the balcony where I can see a beach opposite from me with the beaming vivid lights of The Boardwalk acting as a background. The vampire in me consents good eyesight, and as the song ends with the infamous lines 'With every move you make, every vow you take, every smile you fake, I'll be watching you' I swear I view Michael and the others. I swear it so profoundly that I believe it. Whether he can see me or not is a different matter. I don't even know whether it is him, all I know is that the song has altered from Every Breath You Take to If I Turn You Away from the St Elmo's Fire soundtrack. I feel like I turned him away when I heard him scream my name, imploring me to stop the car. I heard it, yet I was too distraught to stop. He made a deal, I couldn't stop it. 'You're just a page I need to turn, and I'll be on my way', that isn't my nature though. After what has happened tonight, the sacrifices involved, I don't think I can ever forget. If I turn you away, you know the reason why I just couldn't stay anymore. Like Michael, I have my family to think about. My brothers – Edgar, Alan, Jermaine – and my new father, Jan. They have to be safe. It is the duty I have been socialised into adhering to for my entire life.

Resting in the hammock overlooking the distance of a beach, I watch the majestic oceans waves roll contentedly. The lyrics said 'It won't be hard to say goodbye, I've seen this road before' I've been forced to say goodbye before in my life, but this was the hardest of them all. I don't know what I feel for Michael, the majority of it is friendship, but there is an isolated percentage of me that feels for him in a different way. I don't even know why, I just have sustained it through his kindness and the ability for me to partially open up to him. He's the first genuine person I have opened my heart to like that, and to me, that is something special. I shake my head, my eyes flicking up to look at Hudson's Bluff again. We are not out of the state like David suggested, but instead on the outskirts near an ocean. I didn't want to leave his side for one moment, I could have done something. This was partially my fault, I am to blame just as much as Star is, if not more. I can only desire to see if he is safe, in a mortal sanctuary. I even discover myself chuckling at this, knowing it is not possible now. I could have helped him to remain his human self by stopping that car, by suggesting more wise notions deemed realistic.

The time the third song plays. I am nothing but a wreck. A guilt ridden wreck who is holding a cigarette she would never touch in between her fingertips and a icy cold bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon wine in the other. If Jan's son's stereo cares to screech out anymore love ballads or depressing songs then I will most definitely go into that room and haul it against the wall. Damn this kid, playing all this soppy music. All I know is that I am being afflicted with severe guilt and feel slightly heartbroken over everything. It wasn't just Michael though; what if I can never get out of this dire world? What if I never see my brothers again?

I want to go home.

I shield my eyes from any vision with my fingers, catapulting the empty bottle where the liquid I have disgorged down my throat no longer roams, over the balcony to land into the water. My eyes flick up to the beach again, and still I insist to myself that I can see him in the shadows. I almost urged myself to call his name, but resisted. I need to stay away from him now, as much as I don't yearn to, I must avoid him now.

I stroll to the edge of the balcony, situating myself on the flat surface so my legs dangle over the side, floating on nothing but gravity. I'm not planning on killing myself, but I just want to feel at ease, to feel less guilt. It isn't possible though, it can't be possible due to one of the reasons in David's deal. I don't know what else to feel but guilt, like it has invaded everything. It is almost physically excruciating, this burden of how I could have helped him seething inside of me.

"Sierra?" I hear a young boy's Spanish accent whisper in a tranquil tone.

I turn to see Jermaine standing the archway, his background being a satin, burgundy curtain. With his black curls moving at the pace in his stride, he approaches me, a boombox blasting out the songs causing me to reflect on everything now placed next to him on the surface of the balcony. The third song is Beauty Has Her Way, and it forces me to think of Dwayne and what he has done to me. Sometimes he did shine, and I knew, beauty had its way with him. I loved him for a time, but it was unwilling. Yet, he doesn't persist to stop. Somehow, I wanted to follow Michael, to aid him through this daunting hell. As the words 'I run to you' declare themselves in the song, I want to run myself. Where to I don't know; to Dwayne, to Michael, to home. Without another thought, I wrap an arm around Jermaine, embracing him to my side.

"Why are you so upset?" he asks, erasing my tears away for me with a supple tissue. "You're too pretty to be crying"

"Sometimes, Jermaine, people have to cry. When you meet someone and a little part of you feels for them and you can't help them, it's alright to cry" I explain, earning a nod from Jermaine.

Now I feel hypocritical. Before tonight and afterwards, I know how I would not cry for anyone, nor would I do in another's presence. I wouldn't even cry in front of myself or in my thoughts. I don't love Michael, but a sector of me was attracted to him. Whether he felt the same or not is a different matter. The only thing I can think of currently is: I could have saved him, and I will never seize that chance again now.

"I'm going for a bath" I hastily remark, wanting to rid myself of this melancholy interior that is revealing itself on my exterior. I get up and embark inside, the warmth from the blazing fireplace welcoming me, enveloping me into a clement hug.

"Sierra!" Jermaine calls. I twist around. "I'm sorry about the music. I didn't know you were upset until I –"

"Jermaine," I cut him off with tenderness. He does not need to act contrite. He is innocent. Nothing, he has committed no offence. "It's alright. Chill, you didn't do anything"

Meekly, he nods in acceptance. With a smile, I depart. Hopefully, this bath shall eradicate the troubling thoughts from my mind.

Lukewarm water embraces my curves in the dim candlelight and I have somehow banished any trace of my grief as there are no more blotches of crimson under my eyes and the trails where former teardrops glided down at a rapid speed have vanished magically. Currently, I am deeming myself absolutely insane to be even considering this notion:

I want to go back to Santa Carla.

I want to help Michael's family.

If I can't save Michael, the least I can do is be a part in helping them escape their demise. They are kind people and don't deserve a fate so brutal. I sip from the glass goblet of wine, allowing the sweet taste to seep down my throat, an action that strangely has made my decision: I am leaving tonight with the pursuit of returning after I have physically seen Max be killed.

I slip out of the bath, blowing each candle light out with my own personal oxygen, encircle the velvety towel around my hourglass figure and proceed into my temporary bedroom. After closing the door silently, I hear a gentle rattle colliding with the wooden door painted in a pale hue. Without my consent, they enter, only for me to perceive Jan and Charlotte standing at my door with Jermaine who I confessed to about my scheme through whispers as he stood behind the grandiose oak door. Jan's face is the manifestation of worried blended in with sombre, whereas Charlotte just stands there doting her son, a smile on her lips. Maya is in bed, sleeping contentedly without a worry in the world. How little her unsullied mind knows of the genuine horrors this world accommodates.

"You can't go, Sierra" Jan declares, a trait known as stubbornness etching his words. I shake my head and stroll over to him, becoming proximate to him and smile contentedly.

"Jan, let me show you something" I whisper, attempting to soothe him for what I am about to do. My slender fingers gather a vintage hand-held mirror up by the golden handle with a regal design marked onto it. Gasps don't fail to liberate themselves from the three shocked ones lips as instead of seeing me as I am in their field of vision, the reflection is obscure, each feature fading as time being like this passes. "I'm a half-vampire, Jan, and I was turned for revenge. The man I'm after aspires to kill me" I observe his reaction, the reaction being one of untainted anger. "However, it's my plan to get to him first. Killing is wrong, and I don't condone it, but if you knew this man, Jan, you would understand why he must be killed. Please, my friend is in danger and I need to help him"

Charlotte and Jan just stand there gawking at me, a reaction I had anticipated and prepared myself for.

"Let her go, Papa. She needs to help her friend. He is already one of them, but his family still needs saving" Jermaine adds, goading Jan to grant this one escapade. Reluctantly, Jan nods in agreement from his son's encouragement and my beseeching ocean blue eyes.

"Take my motorbike, the car will be no use to you now" Jan murmurs, his view not daring to land onto me. He is frightened, mainly for my welfare, but it only supplies my guilt with something else to ingest. I don't want to emotionally harm him nor do I want him to become a victim of Max. However, I have to help Michael's family. Charlotte beckons me into her room in order to choose the appropriate outfit, insisting she knows the immaculate outfit for a woman on a motorbike.

I'm going back.