Could You Ever Turn a Strigoi Back?

Five days ago, two life–changing things happened. The one that was pretty easy to come to terms with is that I, Rose Hathaway, had withdrawn from (and therefore could no longer be accounted for as a student of) St. Vladimir's Academy.
Now, although I say "pretty easy"... well, heck. It wasn't easy; not in the slightest – but it was far easier than the other thing I had to deal with.
Withdrawing from the Academy was already starting to get to me. –It wasn't that I ad necessarily enjoyed the school part of it, but I suppose the important thing to remember is that St. Vlad's isn't just a school. It becomes pretty much your whole life, no matter who you are. My biggest loss – the one that had been gnawing away at me from the moment I had set foot outside the Academy gates – was, well, everything. The loneliness was driving me insane. We're not talking about the morbid teen's view on solitude, either; this was the real, raw deal. To be honest with you, though, I hadn't realised how dependent I'd become on the people around me. It occurred to me, now, that I could no longer lean on people like Adrian, or Father Andrew, or Lissa.

Ah, Lissa. Since I'd left, I hadn't heard a single word, or for that matter, felt any of her emotions, through the bond we shared. She'd blocked me off, just as she had done during Jesse's stupid initiation ritual, and this time, I hadn't fought to break it. Aside from that, I'd figured – and I wasn't absolutely certain, just speculating, because I'd never actually been this far away from Lissa since I'd been shadow kissed – that maybe her stream of thoughts and emotions resembled something of a sound wave: the further I got away from her, the longer it'd take to hear her, and the less I would actually be able to hear, until a point... like now... when there was nothing.
For all I knew, anything could be happening back at the Academy, but try as I might, once realisation hit, I couldn't dissuade myself from the fact that Lissa might not have forgiven me for leaving her. In fact, without anything else to fill the space in my mind where she usually filtered in, our last conversation lingered there as a cruel, cold taunt, resounding over and over.

And then of course, there was the other thing. Five days ago, I'd gotten sick of waiting; I got off of my ass, stopped moping, and decided that I had to kill him. Dimitri. Saying his name, thinking it... it hurt. After that initial week of inevitable break-down, I'd started to rebuild myself, though it really wasn't quite the same. There was a hollow space in my heart where my memories of him had merged together to form this heartbreakingly beautiful image, so real that when I closed my eyes, I would feel myself reaching out to touch him... and then crash back down to Earth when my hand went straight through him and into this horrible, dark abyss that he'd left behind when he'd been taken from me.
Of course, even now, it's hard to go on. Over the past five days I've found that whenever I stumbled across him in my thoughts, I'd frozen in my tracks and burst into a fit of unrestrained, uncontrollable tears.

But behind the emptiness, the loneliness, the despair... there was a whole different world of emotions. I felt determined, slightly fearful (-understatement!); there was a certain anticipation building up inside of me, and of course, "completely exhausted" could by no means capture just how shattered I was feeling.

It was probably that complete certainty and determination that had kept me going, so far. I knew in my heart that this had to be done; that if in some parallel world, Dimitri had been in my shoes and I had been turned into the cold-blooded, soulless, remorseless killer, he'd do exactly the same for me.
We'd had this discussion, Dimitri and I. We'd both agreed that "living" as a Strigoi – if you could actually call it that – was much worse than death itself; and in fact, in comparison to losing your soul, death seemed like something you'd happily embrace without a shadow of a doubt, at all. And I suppose I was also determined to come back alive, but that was just one great big "if". If I killed him, I could go back to the Academy, persuade the old idiots to let me back on, graduate at the top of my class, become Lissa's guardian, and then... and then slowly rebuild my life.

On the other hand, my fear was slowing me right down. I sometimes didn't even feel like my powerful Guardian dhampir self. I felt like a vulnerable teenage girl; the type you read in those petty romance novels, and a coward. But my fears had me beyond the point of caring about what I thought of myself, and that was upsetting. This was the sort of fear that was enough to make my heart stop altogether.
I wasn't scared that I was going to have to face off possibly tens of Strigois. No, actually, in a twisted way, that excited me beyond belief. What really terrified me, then, was him. –Dimitri... as a Strigoi. My enemy, and my lover, who may still have my heart completely. I had anticipated seeing him for the first time, but it would still be difficult; what would be the difference? His eyes? His teeth? Would I care when I saw him? Would I want to be with him again? I knew that he would remember me and what had happened between us... but he wouldn't, couldn't, know those memories the way I didn't; wouldn't feel them. Would everything that had taken place between the two of us be mere words to him? Would he mock me, and use everything we'd shared as an advantage against me?
Or was it at all possible that perhaps, as if by some heavenly miracle, he still felt for me what I felt for him? What would happen, then? Could I really bring myself to kill the man who was still human enough to love me? The realist part of me roared with a cold and mirthless laughter that shook me down to my inner core. This was real life; not some stupid vampire romance flick.

Stumbling to an unsteady halt in my tracks, completely overcome with exhaustion, I collapsed onto the grass. I'd spent my days on the road with no sleep, and with little food and water. I had admittedly hitchhiked part of the way, but since leaving the Academy, I'll confess to being a lot less trustworthy of people in general. They made me uncomfortable, the way they stared; it felt like they were going to morph into Strigoi at any moment.
The last guy I'd hitchhiked with had told me that the airport wasn't too far, and that I should just "follow the road". Blood idiot. Once he'd dropped me off, I'd started walking... and carried on walking... and still went on... and the airport was nowhere in sight - and now, here I was, standing on some random hill in Missoula, at midnight.

Today had been pretty normal. I was in town, at last; I'd found the bank, and a bunch of clothes stores, and re-outfitted myself in something more suitable. I'd bought a few snacks for my journey to the airport and...

Just then, an approaching car snapped me out of my reverie. I staggered to my feet, waving frantically. The torch in my pocket was whipped out and I started sending morse code messages for the car to slow. The chances were that the driver had no idea what I was saying; but it comforted me all the same, so I did it.
The gravel crunched as the car slowed to a halt. Its tinted windows and sleek appearance intimidated me slightly, and the guy behind the wheel, wearing sunglasses and a dark suit only furthered that.
All the same, he'd stopped, so I pulled the door to the passenger seat open and clambered in.

"Where you off to?" he asked. No bothering with the pleasantries; not that I was complaining.
"Siberia," I told him bluntly.
"Well I'm no genius, but I'd say that's gonna be one heck of a drive." I looked blankly on him before it dawned upon me what he'd said.
"Oh, right. Can you get me to Missoula airport?" He chuckled.
"Uh-huh. Lucky you, I'm headed there right now. What's your name, kid?" I paused, not really wanting to tell him.
"Errm... Lissa." - I don't know why I said that. It just came out.
"Nice to meet you, Lissa. I'm Mark." I stifled a yawn.
"You mind if I sleep for a bit? It's just... I've been walking for most of today."
"No problem. I'll wake you up when we're about a half hour away."

I yawned again, not bothering to hide it this time. Mark gave a small, throaty laugh. And then, for the first time in days, I was able to drift into a sound sleep, in some stranger's car.

I awoke to sunlight streaming the windscreen of a strange car that I did not recognise. Then I finally recalled the man named Mark, who had given me a lift, and had promised he would wake me up a half hour before we arrived.
Why I hadn't been woken up before now, I do not know. I looked around, seeing a massive car park that couldn't have been anything but the airport car park. Unsteadily, I clambered out into the morning air. I could hear Mark mattering down a phone.

"I'm telling you -- no, she says her name's Lissa! As in Vasilisa -- I dunno, maybe she dyed her hair. That's got to be her..."

I blinked. He was talking about me. Did he think I was Lissa? Was he worling for the Strigoi? I swore loudly, making him start, and then I ran for it. I could hear him calling after me, and all of a sudden, I became aware of other people moving through the morning crowds... towards me.

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