Alrighties, here we go! Another Sunday evening, another chapter. No midweek update this week, I've got an exam to study for and a house to clean despite the Queen's Jubilee public holiday tomorrow.

Thank you to those sticking with this monster of a story. The support and reviews mean a lot.

Also, with the sequel (FOUR CHAPTERS AWAY NOW!) I was wondering if y'all wanted a new update day. Would Friday evenings be better or what? It's up to you guys :)

xx

It's dark, you can barely move but you almost don't want to. You are warm. You are safe. You fight against the cotton wool pulled down around you brain, sure that there's something you're meant to be doing but it's hard. You know the danger is gone, the smell of blood thick in the air but it's dead blood. It's the only kind of blood you can stand.

There are gentle hands on your body, turning you this way and that as someone says your name. You try to respond, you try to say something but it can't really be that pressing. You feel your body begin to float, the ground isn't firm against your back and the clothes on your skin don't itch. You feel at peace but it's not quite enough. You can't seem to go that step further, to the place where any kind of feeling stops but oh how you want to. You want to rest, you want to stop running from... You aren't quite sure what it is you were running from. Or what you were running to, for that matter. But you do know you can stop.

A new voice appears by your side and you feel a rush of affection for the owner of the voice. They are someone you care about. You reach out with your mind briefly, trying to tell him to quit jabbering away, that you're fine but it exhausts you far more quickly than it should.

Eventually, times begins to pass, you think because there is a bit of shuffling, a bit of sniffling and a few spoken words but you're just finding a bit of peace when more voices arrive. This time you can smell blood again, that putrid stench of live blood that belongs to only one thing.

You hear more voices and once again you try to reach out to them, you can hear the fear in the voice and it won't do. The first new voice tugs at your heart, making you want to bolt upright if only to erase the tension you can just about feel flowing from her but it's not her hands on your skin that break your heart. Gentle fingers ease you up and you don't need to see him to know who is holding you.

Now you fight. You fight even harder so that you can say something, anything. This man cannot hurt. You won't let him hurt because of you. You've already done too much damage so you fight. The others are talking about you, trying to explain what happened but you know they don't quite understand it. You know you ought to be more worried about it but all you care about is letting him know that you're alright.

Their chatter dies off for a moment so you work harder, wanting to take advantage of the silence.

"Niikkki," you murmur, unable to make the words come out any louder. Everything hurts just a little bit and even though it's the kind of hurt that makes you feel just a little warm it clouds your mind and makes the words ridiculously hard.

"Rose," he breathes and his hand finds purchase on your cheek. It's a sweet gesture, one he'd never attempt in public and you feel your heart break a little.

"I've never... fallen asleep... in someone's... arms... before," you breathe, trying for a little humour so that they'll all know you are still you, still in there somewhere. "I think... I could... get... used to... it." They need to know so that when you ask them to do what needs to be done they know it's you asking.

You want to say more, you really do but you can't. You're exhausted again and it's all you can do to try and stay in his arms. More words are spoken and then you are lifted gently, your body cradled with the utmost care.

There is a strange sensation you can't totally identify but then you're somewhere else. You recognise the faint scent of the room and it calms you. There are more voices and you can feel yourself moving through corridors that have the same faint scent. The turns are familiar and soon enough you realise you are in your room, on your bed.

And then you feel the one thing you've been searching for. Sunlight. It warms every corner of your body, filling you up and making you tingle. You curl your toes at the delightful sensation rushing through your body as your boots are pulled from your feet. Colours swirl behind your eyes and you let loose a little sigh. Focusing all your energy, you pull in your wings. It hurts but with the sunlight tickling your face it's easier than you thought it would be to hold them in.

You hear someone gasp at the action but you don't focus on it, instead searching out the mind you know is yet to leave your side. You can sense there is something he wants to do and, with effort, you let him know it's O.K.

By the time more voices enter the room you have been redressed in far comfier clothes. The cotton is soft against your skin and it smells of another but it's not off putting as you'd thought it might be. The idea is comforting.

They are speaking again but with all the effort you've already expended you can't follow it, floating merrily within your own mind. Gentle hands touch you, your hands, your face, your feet even but all you can do is sigh and hope they know that you're alright.

Time passes strangely, in lulls and highs that you don't quite understand. It's only because of the gentle rise and fall of the sun that you can tell how long it's been. You try to talk to them from time to time but mostly you spend the days dreaming of events that have come and gone. You see those you have loved and lost, those you have left and most importantly, those whose names you cannot remember. These are the people you miss the most. You see your father a few times, his face clear and sharp in your mind while everything else blurs around you.

Only when the outside world makes itself known do you interact with others. At one point there is a weight on your arm. You kindly tell her to get off and she gasps as you do so. Others come to marvel at your 'progress' but you want to tell them the truth. You try but it doesn't quite work so you let it pass.

A day or two later they are both there and while it happens often, you don't need to open your eyes to see the tension in the room. You know they have been fighting, that they are angry at each other but you want to tell them to be angry at you. It is your fault, not theirs. You decide that you won't let them go without telling them as such. You fight the fuzz behind your eyes that keeps your mind at bay. It take some effort but finally you try and speak to her. Her breathing quickens and you realise you've been successful.

"Rose," she rushes, "Rose I'm here, we're both here."

I. Know, you reply quietly but that's all you can get out before the fuzz descends again. You feel their hands in yours, squeezing as if it will coax a response. They go back to talking quickly and their voices escalate. Soon, too soon he leaves and you reach out to taste the fear of his mind. He doesn't want to lose you but you can see that he doesn't realise that if he continues like this, he will lose her too.

She speaks to you softly, her words kind whispers that make you want to chuckle at her sweetness. Then another joins you and while you want to leap up and strangle him, another part of you wants to hug him. He trusted you, he listened and he kept them safe from you. He made sure that you did not kill the ones you love and you will never be able to thank him enough for that kindness.

They are talking about you, you are certain but exactly what you aren't sure until she speaks of your hatred for him or lack thereof.

You let him know that you do indeed wish to dismember him with a rather overly dramatic image but you can tell that he understand you are only jesting.

He speaks again and this time laughs and while the sound puts you on edge, you hope that it puts her at ease. You focus on following their conversation but it isn't until she asks if you are waking up that you speak once more.

"No," you whisper, trying to sound firm. It is the truth and there is nothing you can do about it.

"Rose, we're here. What do you mean 'no'? What can I do, what do you need?" she asks, moving to take your hand.

"Blaa.." you whisper, trying desperately to get the words out. "Blood."

"What blood?" she asks, sounding so very confused. "Are you bleeding?"

"Nikola... blood... vam... vam... vampire... blood," you try once more. They have to know, you have to tell them. You want to sit up and tell her everything. Tell her how to end this and how much she means to you. The past few days you have spent thinking about your life, your very long life and the one thing you know with absolute certainty is that she hasn't got a clue just how much you adore her. You would do anything for her because it's what she deserves. She has been too kind to you and you need to repay that kindness but you know what you will tell her will do just the opposite.

"Come on Rose, what are you trying to say?" she says and you groan with the effort of remaining this alert.

"Blood," you whisper, forcing your eyes open and grabbing at her hand as you show her what you mean. You show her the death of your kind, of the way that vile blood ran through their veins and made them burn from within, of how you hid like the coward you are as you watched the ones you loved shrivel and die but there is a limit to your abilities and that's all you can show her before the fuzz makes its demands known and you fall back to the bed limp.

Hands grab at your shoulders to try and coax more life into your body and while the touch sends images of dripping knives searing through your skull as a reminder of how this should have ended, it doesn't help you fight the fuzz. In fact, it makes you retreat. You don't want to see it anymore. You are ready for it and there is no need to dwell on what life could have been.

The next few days pass in a blur of voices and conversations but you can't focus. It's worse than it was before, your mind refusing to cooperate. You can hear sweet words being spoken to you by the one you love and they have some effect but they don't help. It breaks your heart to hear him speak so tenderly when you know how much he is hurting but there is nothing you can do despite your very best efforts.

His hand is warm in yours, his fingers stroking gently at your skin and it's all you can do to make not of that fact. All too soon he stops, dropping your hand to the bed and then you hear raised voices. It takes a little while to figure out what they're talking about but you can almost guess. Then you make out a single word and it all falls into place.

Blood.

You try to reach out to him, tell him to stop yelling at her because she's right, this is what you want but you can't. You need to tell him that you are at peace with the idea of death, welcome it even because as pleasant as it is to lay here with nothing to do and nowhere to be, it breaks your heart that you can't talk to them. To hear them by your side, to hear the quiet questions they ask and to be unable to respond is a kind of torture you don't want to have to deal with for much longer.

Soon enough the fighting ends and you are left in silence once more. You aren't sure if they'll do as you ask but, when they all shuffle in just a few days later, no one making a sound, you think they might just.

You feel incredibly selfish at asking them to kill you, you know it will be hard for them but after all this you can't resist the allure of eternal slumber. You don't really believe in Heaven which is O.K because of all the places for you to end up, that's not where you'll be. You've done too much harm in your long life, not including the things you are now asking.

Someone is touching your arm and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's coming, it's so close you can taste it.

Then they begin to wonder if you know, if they should... oh you can't really follow it but you reach out regardless, telling them that you know, that it's O.K.

It isn't until the needle slides beneath your skin that you realise something's wrong. Pain floods your body and you fight to control yourself but there is something more to it. You can feel the fuzz disappearing, it's lifting at the same rate that you are burning from the inside. You scream, you can't help it and even though you can hear them talking to you, asking what's wrong, you can't respond. It hurts more than you ever thought possible but you can feel your body growing stronger. You focus what little control you still have on turning your head to glare at her.

"What the hell have you done?" you growl before you give in to the pain, entire body sizzling and burning from the inside out. Your head feels like it's exploding as the vile poison makes its way through your body, every nerve ending bursting into fire as it snakes its way to the recesses of your mind.

It's growing, the pain is getting more and more painful but your mind getting stronger and stronger and, with one last growl, everything explodes in a burst of light that is more intense than any pain you've ever experiences. Darkness descends in an instant and, much to your disbelief, everything flashes before your eyes. The pain is still there, coursing through your body but you can't move, shrouded in darkness that keeps it at bay somewhat. You see everything, all the names you thought you'd forgotten, all the people you'd left behind, all the wrong you've done and you can't look away. It all plays out in front of you over and over and over again until the pain slowly starts to ebb. It happens so gradually that you don't notice at first but before long it's gone and your breathing is easier.

And then with a gasp, you sit up.

There is light.