Fuck. What did I do? I feel like such an awful person. I still didn't know exactly how I felt, but I slept with him. Fuck sake. I slept with him. He's going to expect all these feelings from me now, that I'm not sure I am even capable of feeling and...

It was about 4am, and I decided then and there I needed to leave. I needed to leave and clear my head and just breathe. I couldn't breathe here, I felt suffocated. I slowly and carefully left the bed, and went to my wardrobe and got changed into a pair of black leggings, a black zippy and some trainers. I took a black rucksack and threw in the essentials: purse, laptop, phone, car keys, four knives and two guns. I snuck downstairs, donned in black, with my rucksack on, and quickly went to the kitchen to grab an apple or something to eat on my journey.

"You're leaving?" I span around to see Nadia, arms folded across her chest, jaw clenched.

"I can't stay. I need to get away Nadia," I whispered, not wanting to wake up the rest of the house.

"Stay until after Christmas, please? Or at least your birthday, it's only three days until your birthday, and Donna is planning you something wonderful."

"I can be back in three days. I just need a break. Nadia, please? I slept with him, and I don't know how I feel I just... I want to go see my parents."

"Are you happy?"

"I don't know what happiness is, Nadia. I know you and Dimitri have your whole thing, but I just, I need some time okay."

"Fine. I will help you get out unnoticed," she nodded her head, "but if you aren't back in three days for your birthday... don't bother." I was slightly taken aback at her words, why is she the dictator around here? But whatever.

We went to the garage and got in one of the many cars. I had turned off all of the CCTV for the house already before I went downstairs, so there was no worry about that. Nadia opened the boot for me, and I got in, and she drove. This way, the guards would only know Nadia left, not me. I heard her explaining to the guard that she had a sudden craving for some fastfood, and they let her leave without another question. We drove until we got to the airport, and she dropped me off.

"Stay safe okay? Say hi to your parents for me," she smiled, hugging me.

"I will, bye Nadia."

"Bye Savannah."

I went into the airport, booking the next flight to Moscow, which was, lucky for me, in a couple of hours. I used the passport of Sofia Vanilla, which was new, and not tied to any of my other alias' in any way, so that no one would know where I went. I knew even if they realised Nadia was the one who helped me leave, she would never say where I was going; she cared about the safety of my parents just as much as I did.

When I landed in Moscow, I rented a car, and drove for a while. Then I rented another car, and another car, and went in a million circles around, to throw anyone on my tracks completely off. I bought a bicycle next, which had absolutely no tie to my name, and cycled for a while to a hotel, where I booked a room and left my laptop and phones (so I couldn't be tracked), hired a motorcycle, got on three buses and two trains, and then cycled on a different bike to the bottom of a large valley. In the valley, hidden in the trees, in a tiny secluded village that lived only off fishing from the lakes and rivers in the middle of the valley, was my parents.

I knocked on the door, and heard some shuffling behind it, no doubt my dad getting his gun.

"It's me," I said, and the door flung open. There was my dad, who I hadn't seen in three years, a smile beaming from ear to ear, and his arms wide. He grabbed me in a big hug, and shut the door.

The house was almost exactly the same as it was when I left. It had a gas stove, with the kettle always boiling on top of the stove, and smelt just like cakes, because my mother love to bake. There was a small circular dining table in the middle of the room, which had a vas of some kind of flower in the middle. The fireplace was roaring, and it was nice to get out of the freezing cold. I went and sat on a chair close to the fire and warm my hands up.

"Hi Dad," I laughed slightly.

"My Savannah banana!" exclaimed my father, still beaming.

"You seem happy?"

"Did you know, emotions are actually pretty damn cool, I feel happiness and it's pretty damn cool." I was absolutely shocked by this. My father was a stone-cold man, feeling no emotion, just like me, but here he was, smiling, laughing, joking around and giving me the dumbest nickname ever.

"It's pretty weird to deal with," laughed my mother, walking into the room, "he is a bit like a child, always in damn moodswings because he can't control them!"

"Hi mum," I said, standing up.

She wrapped her arms around me and said, "hey darling daughter, I've missed you."

"How did you get here?" asked my Dad, suddenly turning very serious.

"See what I mean?" laughed my mother, referring to his moodswing. I explained the journey, all of the cars and motorcycles and things, and his mood softened.

"I taught you well. Now, let's practice," he said, grabbing a knife and throwing it at my face. I caught it, but badly, and it sliced my finger open. "Bit rusty."

"Dad, Mum, I've been in a medically induced coma for ten days, I woke up a couple of days ago, so I'm not at my best..."

"What the fuck darling?" My mother stood up, pulling me into a tight hug. "Don't throw anymore knives at her Tomas," she scolded my father over my shoulder.

"Sorry Sav. Eleanora, don't suffocate her!" he scolded her, and they started an all-out argument in Russian.

"Mum, dad, I am fine, just a little on the slow side is all," I shrugged.

"Well, my love, want to practice? Get your fighting spirit back again?" my father asked. I nodded; there was nothing else I wanted more in that moment of time.

We practiced shooting, dodging, fighting, running. I even did some flips and tricks, even though the doctor said it would take a while, I was a Trufanov, and we have fighting blood running through us; a little coma doesn't affect us that much. It took me a little while to get back into it, but eventually I was almost at my full power. I fought all of the men in the village, including many of those who I went to school with.

"Savannah, how have you been?" asked a boy, who always had a crush on me, called Abram.

"I've been okay," I shrugged my shoulders.

"Woman of few words still, I see," he smiled brightly, "boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Still swearing off love?"

"I was."

"And then what?" he said, his ears pricking up.

"Just a guy." Our conversation was broken off by my mother called my name for dinner.

"Are you staying until your birthday?" my mother asked at the dining table.

"I have to go back the day before, I'm sorry."

"No bother, we will celebrate before you go," said my father.

"But, you said celebrating birthdays was pointless?"

"I also said feelings were pointless. I was a hard father to you, and I have only recently realised this," he grabbed my hand, "I am sorry."

"I wanted to talk to you and mother about something..." I explained the whole situation, with the Italian mafia, the coma, everything, and everything about Fabricio.

"Sounds like you are in love," my mother smiled.

"But I don't know what love is," I sighed.

"No one knows what love is. There is no set of requirements that have to be filled out to 'love' someone. Love can be a craving to be with a particular person," like when I was craving his presence because I couldn't sleep without him next to me, "it can be a sexual craving," I certainly felt that, "or an emotional craving," I did feel like I wanted him to give me another speech all over again about what he felt for me. "Love can make you feel addicted," from the day I met him, I couldn't stay away, even when I tried to go back to London and live my life, I felt like I had to go back, and even now, sitting here, I did feel that pull. "Love can make you feel obsessed," pretty similar. "It can make you experience recklessness," I would recklessly run past fifty people shooting at me just to save his life, as well as his family. "Love can be a blur," I definitely felt the last few days with him were a blur. "It can be wanting to make sure they are safe, being protective, wanting them to eat, sleep, drink, wanting, craving their presence," I felt all of this, "or it can be none of these things and something completely different. Love is different in every couple and every person experiences it differently."

Fuck. If that is love... I think I'm in love with Fabricio, but I wanted to make sure, because the minute I would say those words, that was it for me.