It has been one long torturous week. I have seen her come and go as she had to, sadly, go feed by herself. The desire to take her in my arms and make sweet love to her drove me silently insane. I can honestly say, being a Vampire with a soul is a death sentence. The pain that is cutting through me piece by piece is beyond the sleekness of a sword that is being driven through the softness of your heart.

I wish there was a way that I can rid myself of such a curse. I have had, with our brief encounters, the urge to lose myself in her mind and get a glimpse of what she is feeling. Then I need to remind myself that she is but a mere Vampire; she will not feel the endless pain that runs through my body.

The question begs, do I want to give in and push the pain away. Truly I have, but then from out of complete nowhere, that demon comes creeping its head up again. Yes, I did ask her for time, but how long will this lasting stay in the abyss that consumes me. It is not that I have not tried or wanted to; it is plainly the barrier that allows me to open up again.

They say that love is a quiet emotion that, in time, becomes part of the oxygen you need to breathe, so is this why I feel like I am choking. I feel that I need to breathe. I need a heart that is pumping life through my body. I need to feel the ecstasy of being completely alive. Shall I then stop this punishment and let it leave my body fully satisfied that it has run its course?

As I said that this life is a curse and a curse is hard to carry on your shoulders. I need the love of the woman that loves me. But, god, I cannot bear to stop thinking of the very thought that I am so desperately trying to rid of my mind.

I am dying inside, and there is not one person alone that can save me. Sadly not even the woman that I called my beloved.

…Anastasia POV…

Sebastian said I must give him time. Time is a slow killer; it is like the sleekness of a sword that is being driven through the softness of your heart. I might not possess my soul, but the feeling, the only way I can feel, it does kill me inside. I am slowly dying. If Sebastian will only allow me to save him. He needs to know that I am here to pick him up and make him whole.

It is actions that broke his heart apart, but with my words, I know that I can soothe that deep agony that tortures him still. With my words, I can soothe him until the cage around his heart snaps as if it is made of thin caramel strands rather than a cast iron. With words, I can take what is broken inside and make him willing to walk the hard road of recovery. I know that if my words are not backed up by love, they will all be as valuable as the print on a letter that is charring and burning in the earth

I want to be there to wrap him in my arms when the bad memories threaten to pull him under again, every time, for eternity. He might not believe a word that flows from my mouth now; I am not even asking him to; I want to prove it to him every day. Why? Because I love him.

It has been a slow death having to go out by myself to feed; what Sebastian does not know is I have not been to go feed at all. I find myself wandering the streets alone. How can I find pleasure in doing something that I only treasured when I did it with him. Needless to say, I have not fed in over two weeks.

Thanks to the miracle that is face powder, I have been able to hide the paleness of my skin. I know he shall be mad, but right now, I do not want to make him ever more disappointed in what he already is.

I feel like I am dying inside; I will now remain in the confines of my room. He cannot see me this way.

…Sebastian POV…

I have not seen Anastasia for a few days; I am left to believe that she purely does not feel as if she wants to be in the presence of anyone. This I do find understandable, for I have not yet let go of the thing that is haunting me the most.

So once I have gathered my thought and put up the courage, I make my way out of my room for a very rare occasion. It has become my sanctuary, a haven for my heart, and the peace I feel behind these wall brings me comfort that no other thing, and yet do I even dare to say, the comfort of any other being, whether it the company of both the immortal word and even strangely the humankind.

It is without fail that I find Edward and Lilith in their usual spots in the kitchen.

"I am going to start forcing you to have a true meal in here. You are in here far too often."

Lilith that is delighted to see me again only but waves me off. She holds a concern in her eyes, and I do know where this is about to lead. Now shall I entertain the questioning? If it settles her at ease, I let her continue.

"Sebastian, when last have you seen Anastasia?"

"I have not seen her in several days, but yet again, I have been spending a far great deal in my own room to have really noticed."

Edward that seems to hold the same concern as Lilith does look at me with rather worry in his eyes, "Sebastian, I have been told that she wanders the streets at night."

"Of course, she has been out to feed."

"I am afraid not; they have not seen her doing such a thing at all. She spends a great deal of time sitting in the park."

There is a darkness that rolls over an already aching heart, "Edward, we have not seen her for several days; I would lean towards a week at best. The last time we were out was two weeks before that. Anastasia has not fed in three weeks."

"And," Edward adds, "On our trip to find you, we were just getting enough to get us by."

Then there is a whole new feeling, a feeling of loss, a feeling of been terrified that my stupid stubbornness could have caused the life of the woman that I truly love.

It is without any hesitation that I make my way to her room; not even bothering for asking permission to enter, I burst through the door.

"My god! No!"

Her body is lying softly wrapped between the sheets; she seems that she is lost to the world. Her body appears to have lost all will to stay in the land of both the living and the dead.

It takes me less than a second to find my way to her bed; there she is, laying as pale as a ghost. As gently as I can, I start to shake her; she does not respond. She does not move. She is completely dead still.

This is not happening. She is not gone. She is not going anywhere. She can't just leave like that. She has to come back.

It is with a sob that echoes through the house that I howl in agony. My tears are dripping on her frail body. Look what my pride has gotten me. It has taken my beloved away. Was it worth grieving like a fool in my room? Was it worth pushing her away when I know she would heal me?

Now how do I save her if she is gone? How do I heal a body that has gone far too weak? What do I do with a woman that had said her last goodbyes when no one was around.

My sorry means nothing now, "Oh, Anastasia. I am so sorry for being an even bigger fool than before. I should have known in your words I am safe because they aren't just words. You were there every day. You were there in the good times and the bad. You knew all my faults, of which, my beloved, I have so many. You understood my anxieties, my triggers, and the ghosts that haunted me. Your words kept me safe, you were there when I acted completely silly, and you were there when I tried to keep myself serious. You were there no matter what. So now, as I sit here, as full of the darkness, I feel now even more in my heart; I want to paint you a picture of my love in words. I wish I treated you better."

"Sebastian, you are squeezing me to death."

"Anastasia! My god, you are alive."

"Well, bearly," she smiles, and I just swear that my heart just flips over in my chest. "My beloved, please forgive me. Please let me help you."

"But," she softly whispers.

"No buts, as of this very moment, I do not care for anything, but I only want to be back with you again."

I gently pull her up closer and pull the collar of my shirt away; I know she needs this, and god, I need her.

With her tiny fangs, she gracefully exposes them and lay them softly against the smooth skin of my neck. It is in anticipation that I wait for her. I wait to feel her inside. After letting them eagerly linger for far to what seems as torture, she slides them effortlessly into my veins. The sweet ecstasy that runs through my body as she slowly sucks every drop that brings me glorious pleasure. And just as she is about to stop, I beg for her to do it just for one minute longer.

But before she slips her fangs back into my tender skin, she lays the most tender kisses down my neck, setting a whole new craving to a spark. While I let her in to take me to a peek of heaven, she lays her hand gently on my shoulder and whispers under the most seductive voice I have ever had the privilege to come from her lips.

"Sebastian, please make love to me."

"My beloved, I am going to send you into bliss."