A/N: Thank you all for the awesome reviews, they really keep me going. I appreciate them all but (at the risk of sounding sappy) I'd like to thank Drakewood a lot, the review I received from her was so amazing, it brought me close to tears. To know that my writing (and I really still consider myself to be a beginner though I've been writing for 6 years, haha) can affect somebody like that was just amazing and to know that I've inspired somebody else to draw and write has pretty much just made my entire...life. xD So really, thank you so, so much. Also, I'm sorry for my fondness of long absences, blame the fact that I'm easily stressed so I tend to procrastinate with things that aren't coursework.

Mr Crepsley showed up at my window about an hour after the sun set the next night.

"Are you ready?" was his simple greeting.

Was I ready? In different circumstances I might have laughed at such a ridiculous question, but at that point, all I could do was nod shakily and clutch the letters to my family and friends to my chest.

"So, uh, how are we going to go about this?" I asked unsurely.

He held up two things. A bottle of sleeping pills and a little glass vial of unfamiliar liquid.

"It is to my understanding that too many of these," he shook the pills "Can kill a human - but not a vampire and certainly not a half vampire either. So you shall take a humanly dangerous amount and then drink this," he held up the vial "Which will, to put it simply, make you appear lifeless."

"What if they decide to do an autopsy?" I frowned.

"That is what we must hope against," he said slowly "But nobody likes to unnecessarily cut open a teenage girl - if I put the bottle in your hand once they take effect, they won't feel the need to. The worst they could do is blood tests, and I would take care of that."

His explanation was simple, but his eyes did hold emotion - sympathy, which grew when he saw how I was fighting back tears.

"I...suggest you say your goodbyes if you have not," he said slowly before his attention was drawn to the black and purple bag on my bed "You wish to take this with you?"

I'd spent the day wandering around my room, collecting small reminders of my home – things that they wouldn't notice were missing. I'd also stuffed all of my money into a small purse and put that in there too.

I nodded "It's just a sketch pad and stuff...that's okay, right?"

He nodded in confirmation and I slowly rose, straightening my skinny jeans before leaving the room and making my way to Beppe's. I had already said my goodbyes to my dad, my mum and my friends, without making it obvious, of course, but I was dreading saying goodbye to my brother and had put it off until the last possible moment.

I slid open the door to see him lying back on his bed with one headphone in.

"Beppe?" I said slowly, my voice sounding higher than I would've liked.

He jumped slightly before looking at me and taking the headphone out.

"Christ, Monica, you scared me!" he laughed "What is it?"

"I, uh, I'm gonna have an early night so I thought I'd say good night," I murmured.

"It's barely eight," he laughed.

"I'm just tired with...everything," it wasn't a total lie.

"Don't let those bastards get you down, " he said, pulling me towards him "I'll take care of them tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know," I said with a small nod, hugging him "Thank you, Beppe...You're an amazing big brother. I love you."

"Aww! Is my sorellina being sentimental?" he grinned jokingly "Ti amo troppo, now go to bed before I either tear up or vomit."

I gave a small laugh and nodded before leaving the room, only allowing the tears to fall once the door was shut behind me in my room, giving a small amount of relief to my now burning eyes. I wiped them, glad that Mr Crepsley didn't acknowledge them.

"Did you...ask to be buried?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yeah, the last thing I need is to be burnt alive."

He nodded and handed me the pills.

"You should probably wake up tomorrow morning - you won't be able to move or speak but you'll be able to hear and feel a few sensations, in a few days you may regain a small amount of movement - a twitch at most, then you will notice a stiffness in your limbs from lack of movement. I will dig you up the night you are buried."

I nodded and began taking the pills. Once I'd taken what he deemed to be an acceptable amount, he handed me the vial which I downed in one gulp, grimacing at the horrible taste.

The effect was almost immediate - I seized up and wasn't able to move or feel much. He closed my eyes and laid me down on the bed before placing the pill bottle in my right hand and the letters in my left. Then he left and soon I couldn't avoid falling asleep, wishing I'd be able to sleep until he dug me up, knowing the guilt I was about to feel would be even more unbearable.

The next thing I knew, I heard my dad's voice.

"Monica? It's eleven! Why aren't you up yet?"

I felt myself being shaken.

"Why did you sleep in your clothes, strange girl...Monica...Monica?"

I felt a touch to my shoulder and then a horrible, horrible silence and then one word.

"Giuseppe!"

I heard quick thudding footsteps to my bedroom door.

"What is it?" I heard Beppe's tired voice reach my ears and then that silence once again.

"No. No! She...she didn't! She couldn't have...Monica!"

"She...she..." I heard my dad try to say before I felt the pills being taken from my limp grasp.

There was a string of curses before the letters were taken from my hands.

"...It's my fault. I should've been a better brother," the words were spat through sobs.

I felt sick when I realised one thing...They'd blame themselves.

I'd often heard people lightly mention about how they'd wondered how people would react when they died - how they wanted to know. They were stupid. You don't want to know unless you're mentally ill. You don't want to hear your dad screaming down the phone for an ambulance - your brother sobbing hysterically as he tries to wake you up, even though he knows it's futile... as he continues to sob and hugs you to him. You don't want to hear your mother arrive and start screaming for you to wake up. You don't want to hear them blaming themselves. Or worse – eachother.

I deserved it. I deserved hearing all of my loved ones sob and blame themselves. I deserved having to sit through the open-casket funeral...I was a horrible, selfish person. That was why I deserved feeling my mother run a hand over my face for the last time as her tears hit my cheeks...I deserved to hear my brother say he should've done more...I deserved to hear my crush of two years admit, right next to my ear about how he was sorry he hadn't told me he liked me.

I deserved every single little unbearable stabbing feeling to my heart that I got every time I heard a whimper, a sob, an admittance of self blame. What on earth had I done? All of these people...My friends...My family...they were suffering because I couldn't ignore a few bullies. I disgusted myself.

I tried to sleep as much as I could in the passing days, hoping it would hurt less if I couldn't hear any of it, but it's impossible to sleep for days on end when your mind's racing like that, and I was greatly thankful when all I could hear after that was the thudding of dirt filling the grave.

I tried to do anything to distract myself from my thoughts. I sang to myself in my head, I made up stories and I even tried to sleep some more, but nothing worked for very long. My chest felt so heavy with guilt it made me feel sick as I had just begun to come to terms with the fact that I had genuinely given everything up for something I knew very little about. I moved my arms as much as I could manage, trying to relieve the dull ache they were giving off, along with my legs.

After what I could only assume were hours, I began to wonder. Was he just going to leave me here to die? Surely it should be nightfall by now...maybe he just wanted a way to get me off of his back...maybe he regretted blooding me but didn't want me to tell people about him being a vampire so was going to leave me here. After all, there was no way for me to escape the coffin. Vampire strength or not, clawing my way through 6 feet of dirt without suffocating didn't seem likely.

It was only when I heard the dirt moving above me some time later that I realised how paranoid I was being. Of course he wouldn't just leave me to die – he had said he wanted an assistant...hadn't he? Well, either way, now he had one. Then, for the first time, guilt was replaced with anxiety. I'd only been focusing on leaving my old life...how would I deal with getting a new one?

I didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, as the lid of the coffin was wrenched open and the cold night air filled my lungs. I welcomed it, not noticing how stuffy it had gotten in the coffin. I took the hand he offered and stood up, too aware of how little room there was in the grave.

"Say your goodbyes to the city, I will fill in the grave," he sounded slightly awkward.

"...Should I help?"

He did say I was his assistant, after all.

"No, you would only slow me down."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't argue as I climbed out into the open. As I got out, however, I noticed I was standing right next to another, very familiar grave.

"Oh, god..." I murmured, kneeling in front of the black marble stone despite my legs protesting.

They'd buried me next to my grandma. I ran a finger over the indented golden numbers on the stone, stating her birth date and death date, before placing my forehead on the cold, hard surface.

"I'm sorry, grandma," I murmured to it "I'm sorry I'm not brave like you always told me to be...I tried..."

All there was, was silence and I sighed, leaning back, wondering what I had expected. I stood up, wincing as my legs clicked, which caused me to look down and notice my outfit.

I wasn't sure what I had expected to be buried in, but it wasn't that. It was a black knee-length dress, which I supposed could be described as stylish. I had also been dressed in (now grass-stained) skin coloured tights and black strappy high heels, which I knew would soon become a burden. But it wasn't that which shocked me. It was the ring on my right middle finger. It was a simple gold band with one pearl directly in the centre of it. It had belonged to my grandma – my dad's mother, not the one I was earlier next to in the ground.

It was tradition for it to be passed down in the family, but I had expected for my dad to give it to one of my cousins – or even to Beppe to give to his future children...I never expected them to end the tradition by burying me with it.

I reached a hand up to run it through my hair but realised I couldn't – it had all been pulled back from my face in some kind of sophisticated up-do. With a sigh I pulled it apart, wondering why they had buried me in clothes and hairstyles that I would never wear.

I picked up my bag which was leaning against my headstone and bit my lip when I noticed all of the flowers on it. I knew they would have all been from my family, not a miraculous sea of new friends, but that's what made it more sentimental. There was a photo of myself near the top of the stone too – Beppe and I, to be exact. That was when I couldn't stand there any longer.

I made my way over to a bench and sat on it with my bag beside me, knowing it wouldn't be long until Mr Crepsley was done.

I leaned my head back, staring up at the dark grey clouds and blinking back tears. It was going to be a long night.

A/N: Sorry if it was too sappy, I might have gotten carried away.