Dimitri POV

My hands trembled as I struggled to find the keys to our apartment. "I tugged at the pockets of my duster, searching for the only thing separating me from my bed. However, nervousness and the alcohol in my blood effectively hindered my simple task.

Though I missed her like hell, I thanked God for Rose not being home to see me in this state. A few weeks ago, she and Lissa had gone to college and, as far as I knew, were preparing for some exams. I had been limiting contact with Rose for several days, fearing that even over the phone she could sense that something was wrong with me.

And everything was wrong. I hadn't fallen into such a deep, consuming spiral since I returned to being a dhampir. Ever since I chose Rose and attempted to put my life back together with her. Since I promised her to forgive myself. I was too afraid of the stakes involved if she found out that it all came back to me.

It all started when I helped Christian teach a magic defense class. A teenage boy - Vasil - who uses water magic and was studying at the Court, came to us. Christian and Mia helped him discover how he could use his abilities in self-defense, and after the class was over, the boy's mother came to pick him up. There was nothing unusual about the woman, but at the first sight of her, especially her hair, I froze as if petrified.

The woman didn't even look at me and didn't expect to cause me such torment. All her fault was her hair color. The furious red color, going into scarlet in some places, was deceptively reminiscent of a woman who had the misfortune to stand in my way during those terrible months when I was a Strigoi.

She was not the only woman I had killed. Nor was she the only woman I had sexually abused. At the time, I didn't give her a second thought when I disposed of her body. Memories of her came back to me when I saw Vasil's mother. I saw clearly in my imagination the fear in her blue eyes when she realized that she had come upon a real monster. That I was doing her irreparable harm. When she realized that she was dying. I remembered her voice when she called for her mother and when she cried leaving in the least dignified way.

As my panic attack started I felt disconnected from my body. Heat flooded me settling on my chest, suffocating me, and crushing me. In my narrowed vision I saw Christian coming up to me and asking me if I was okay. I muttered something in response and hurried into the bathroom to avoid falling apart in front of him and the others. There, I threw up.

The thoughts in my head were rushing at lightning speed. The image of her and many, many other women being murdered and harmed by my hands flowed before my eyes. I remembered their faces exactly. I remembered how I had ambushed them like a real predator. I remembered every evil decision I had made.

Then, the memories of what I did to Rose in Siberia flooded back.

Before I completely lost the last scraps of my sanity, I told Christian that I must have been coming down with something and fled the post. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, but I also felt that I could fall to pieces at any second.

As I made my way home, my tormented mind continued to haunt me. It replayed the haunting image of an unconscious, morbidly pale Rose, with a bloody neck and almost see-through clothes after I finished playing with her. The image of my gorgeous, brave, tough Rose balling up against the wall as I hurled her there. Memories of all the kinds of murder I had planned for her once I got my hands on her.

I reached the apartment, feeling heavy from guilt, from all that I had done. Although I may not have been fully myself, I knew that the decisions and actions were mine alone. No one else was responsible, just me. And I was the one who had to bear the consequences.

I saw out of the corner of my eye one of our photos. We loved to decorate this apartment with many of them. It was taken by Lissa when Christian and I once came to visit the girls at college. The four of us went ice skating, much to the girls' delight. Rose was amazing at skating, and I couldn't get enough of her as she gracefully performed pirouettes and skated on one leg. When I finally caught her in my arms and kissed her Lissa decided she had to capture us in a photo. I printed it out as quickly as possible and it was soon in a frame.

The sight of our smiling faces made me sick. I didn't deserve that kind of happiness, especially not by her side. And she... after what she had been through... after what she had tried to do for me... I couldn't even grasp how much Rose must have suffered during that time, and that in the end, she was to stay at the side with her would-be tormentor. I flipped the photo over so I wouldn't look at us any longer.

I couldn't recall feeling such burning, overwhelming guilt in months, if not since those terrible first days after the transformation. The faces of the women, their murders, and the memories of Rose all bubbled up in my head, stabbing me in the heart, and taking away my ability to breathe.

I rarely reached for alcohol, least of all to soothe my sorrows. I preferred to face my problems without this poison, inciting my worst fears. However, that night I felt myself falling apart piece by piece, and I needed to desensitize myself. I had to forget. I had to stop feeling.

As I opened a bottle of vodka in our supplies it occurred to me to call Rose. I believed that she was the only person in the world who could pull me out of the bottomless spiral my mind had fallen into. That she could soothe my fears, glue together my battered heart, and calm my head. But how could you still require that of her? Haven't you done enough to her? She deserves a normal life with her friend in college, not the turmoil caused by her almost-tormentor.

Unable to bear the thought that I might bring her even more harm, I opened the bottle. I drank trying to drown out the thoughts and raging emotions holding me in an iron grip. Somewhere in the middle of the bottle I showed one last flash of forethought and wrote to my supervisor that I was feeling unwell and would not be able to appear on my watch the next day. Guardians were entitled to days off in case of illness, and I hadn't used mine until now.

I woke up late on the couch, smelling of alcohol, with no idea when I had fallen asleep. On my phone, I saw missed calls from Christian, my guarding partner, and about twenty from Rose. I called her first. Word of my absence had already spread, and Rose was horrified at what must have happened for me not to go to work. Her intuition was right, but I wasn't going to burden her with any of it. The guilt I had felt the previous day continued to rumble in my head, prompting me not to take this carefree time away from her. She deserved so much, much more than I could ever give her. So at least I wasn't going to take away from her anymore.

I had to lie that I had felt physically unwell the previous day, but when she began to express concern and announced that she was going to me I assured her that I was better. She tried to ask me details, and with a sore head, I could barely keep up with her questions. I knew I had to be careful, after all, I was talking to one of the most insightful guardians in our ranks. Rose eventually acceded to my requests to stay in Leigh, although she marked that she was doing so very reluctantly.

Over the next two days, I emptied our alcohol supply, trying to numb myself enough so that my memories wouldn't throw me off. Christian and the guardians didn't question my story about being sick, especially since I had never given them a reason to think otherwise before. Rose called often, although I tried to minimize our conversations, for fear that she would find out about my distressing condition. I could see that I wouldn't be able to hide forever, but I hoped that when I finally had to give up my practice, my emotions would cool down enough for me to cope without the help of alcohol.

I promised myself that the third day was my last to feel sorry for myself. I knew I couldn't go on like this any longer, not when I had an obligation to those around me. I promised myself that the next day I would end this sad habit and get back to work. I promised myself that I would tell someone I trusted what had happened.

Seeing the pile of empty bottles around the couch made me sick at the memory of my father, whose addiction led him to despicable acts. I collected all the bottles and went to throw them away. The fresh air on my face felt so good that I decided to take a walk. I walked on the sidelines, without glaring at anyone or exchanging a word with a single soul.

Returning home, worry gnawed at me, knowing I could no longer rely on alcohol to numb my pain. That I would not get drunk to the point of unconsciousness to sleep at all at night. My stomach tightened, and my muscles trembled with anxiety. In the end, it took me longer to get the key out than it should have taken the guardian.

Entering the house, I immediately knew that something had changed. My alertness increased and I froze when I noticed new items on the floor of the house. Rose's shoes and purse.

I found her in the living room as she was looking at our skate photo, the one I had flipped face down. On her face was painted an image I never wanted to see, least of all caused by me - pain and sorrow. There was one empty vodka bottle on the coffee table, which I didn't notice earlier. Anyway, the apartment smelled of alcohol so badly that I couldn't hide anything even if I wanted to.

She looked at me, and I was petrified. I froze, with my throat clenched and my muscles tensed. I shuddered at the possibility of my girlfriend finding out how low I had fallen. The thought that she might find out what was going on with me gave me the strength to pull myself together, but apparently, it was too late. I felt ashamed of myself, unworthy of her love and forgiveness.

However, all this was nothing compared to the sincere, overpowering panic at the thought that I had broken a promise of self-forgiveness imposed by Rose.

I didn't do it consciously, of course. I didn't want to fall into that state and torment myself with memories, and things that were beyond my control. But it was hard to deny the facts. I didn't feel forgiveness for myself in the last few days. And when we got back together, that was the only hard, uncompromising condition set by Rose. I wanted to keep it, I wanted to do my best and be the partner she deserved, but suddenly my emotions were out of control, putting us in this situation.

And I was flooded with a wave of paralyzing fear of what this could mean for us.

Rose put down the photo and looked at me sadly with a face full of seriousness. Pain and sorrow flashed in her eyes. The tension in the room hung so thick between us that you could cut it with a knife.

"Rose... I didn't know you were coming," I finally mouthed, desperate to break the silence. Panic flooded my mind again, but now I wasn't reliving what had happened but was afraid of what could happen. That I could lose her.

Vivid flames of anger sparked in her eyes.

"You would've had more time to get rid of all the traces," she hissed bitingly, pointing to the bottle I had left behind. I was petrified and didn't know what I could say that would improve my situation.

"I... it's not like that…"

"You lied to me," she ground out coldly, clasping her arms over her chest. The coldness in her voice pierced my heart as deeply as her wounded gaze. "I asked you what was going on, and you dismissed me and tried to sell some bullshit."

Curses flooded my mind in a rapid stream My decision to spare her the truth, which seemed so appropriate just a few days ago, now caused me great regret. Rose's voice grew louder with each sentence, her frustration evident.

"I asked what was going on with you, and you told me that you were sick! Maybe you were, judging by the smell in this apartment. I have no response from you, I know from Christian that you don't come to your shifts, there are empty liquor bottles in the apartment, and you look like hell. And on top of all this, I have no communication with you, no communication at all!"

I closed my eyes, wishing for a moment that I could erase the events of the few days.

"I'm sorry!" I raised my voice and immediately regretted it, seeing the surprise on her face. Lowering my voice, I continued, "I'm sorry. I know I didn't solve it well, but I wasn't thinking rationally and it seemed to me... it seemed to me that it would be better for you if I spared you this."

"Why?!" she hissed, continuing to look at me with a mixture of annoyance and hostility. Avoiding her gaze, I couldn't bear to see the disappointment any longer.

"Well, first of all, because you don't deserve it. I lived through a nightmare while I was a Strigoi. I committed crimes that I now have to live with, and you were one of my victims," she flinched slightly at the mere mention, but her gaze remained as rebellious as it had been at the beginning. "Rose, you deserve at least a normal life at college, not having to relieve these... sick emotions together with your abuser."

Rose averted her gaze, thinking about something intensely. When she finally looked at me, her face was softer. In the warm glow of the lamps, she seemed so beautiful, so unearthly gorgeous, that my heart clenched painfully.

"And second of all?"

This time I couldn't stand her gaze. A lump formed in my throat, and my chest tightened, making it difficult to speak. I couldn't look her in the eye as I explained further.

"And second of all, because your condition for us to be together was that I forgive myself. Usually, this is true, but... in the last few days I didn't feel like forgiving myself and wanted to get myself together before we saw each other again."

Rose became still. For a moment she collected her thoughts, and I anxiously prepared for my sentence. She shuffled one step, and my treacherous heart almost stopped. She took a second step and I almost stopped breathing. As she took another step closer, I met her gaze, a mix of concern and affection evident in her eyes. I didn't let myself feel relieved yet, although I felt a slight relaxation at the sight of her expression.

"Dimitri... we are in a relationship. For better or for worse. If you have a problem, I want… no, I need to know about it, and I want to be able to be there for you in any form. I understand that you didn't want to... burden me, but you also can't not tell me anything. I need to know what's going on with you."

I nodded, not daring to say a word. Rose took a deep breath.

"My condition remains the same, but... I understand that this is also a process and that you will have worse periods. I need to know that you are choosing this new life beyond guilt, that you are choosing me, and that you will actively fight for it. What I can't stand is you shutting yourself from me, not communicating, and fighting a past you won't change. That…," she pointed with her hand to the bottle and the picture, "...that's what I can't stand."

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely, "It was a mistake. It will not happen again. I ... I didn't mean to hurt you. And I'm sorry that I lied to you. I'm really, really sorry."

Rose nodded and reached out to touch the tense muscles on my shoulder. Her gentle touch sent a jolt through me, as if electrified, but I was begging her in my mind not to stop. I craved her touch so badly.

"I want you to tell me everything, okay?" I nodded eagerly, and one end of her mouth went up. "And then we'll order something to eat. You look like you haven't eaten anything for three days."

She was closer to the truth than I was ready to admit. I agreed and hesitated before embracing her. I needed her closeness so much, more than I had ever needed any drink, but I didn't know if she was willing to hold me close right now.

However, Rose decided for me, reaching out to me and hugging me tightly. I embraced her, wondering how I could have been so stupid as to keep her away, the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I thought it was for her own good. It felt like a piece of me had finally clicked back into place as if my heart had begun to mend when Rose held me close to her.

I whispered into her hair my feelings of love and gratitude and my promise to always choose her. She was content with my words, and I was determined to fight for it and make it true.