March, 2010: Hey guys. I am editing this story bit by bit right now, trying to fix some inconsistencies. The alterations are really minor (dates, bits of dialogue) and the only big thing is that I've started changing the POV in some passages because it started making more sense like that as the story went on. So don't get confused if the first chapter is a bit different than it was before. Thanks for reading.

THE VAMPIRE GIRLFRIEND DIARIES

Chapter One: Miserable At Best

Ocala is calling

And you know it's haunting,

But compared to your eyes

Nothing shines quite as bright.

The Present Day.

We are so still, people looking at us will think we are statues embracing each other.

"This country is too damn large."

Fucking USA. Fucking, fucking USA. United Fucking States of America. You see, if the UFSA weren't that huge, then going to New Haven wouldn't be such a big deal. But no. It's so fucking large just to piss me off.

Cody kisses my temple and doesn't let go. I'm nowhere near letting go, I'm squeezing him tighter and tighter. I don't care if he suffocates or breaks in half. I'm nowhere near accepting that he's leaving or giving up hope that I can make him stay. I'm prepared, I have a whole plan mapped out.

Step one: Sedate him.

Step two: Tie him down.

Step three: Hide him in my trunk.

Step four: Drag him to my room while everyone's sleeping.

Step five: Keep him as my prisoner for ever and ever and ever.

Cody did his best to explain, then to make me understand and when he saw I wouldn't understand he tried to make me accept the situation, and when he saw I wouldn't accept it he tried to console me. For two months he wrote me silly, cute letters pleading for forgiveness, or long serious ones where he explained that Yale would change nothing in us, that he will always love me, always, even when I would stop loving him. For some reason he is sure that one day I will stop loving him. Cody is blind and stupid. He left the letters at my doorstep, or tucked them in my books and I turned red with excitement whenever I'd read them. I still read them, just to remind myself of his promises. I'm lame like that.

"Don't leave. Don't leave me," I murmur into the fabric of his shirt, pressing my cheek on his flat chest. Cody's hands quickly find my face and push my chin upwards, so that I can look at him. He is much taller than me so I can rest my chin on his chest and if I look up I can see his eyes. After so many years I still can't understand which is it, am I too short, or is he too tall? When he doesn't call me Max, he calls me Short Stuff. I sulk when he calls me that, but secretly adore it. Fuck, I'm such a girl. His skin is darker than mine, because he is half Indian, from his mother's side. She is a beautiful woman, and he is a beautiful boy. There is something in his eyes and lips that seems so inviting. His eyes are a wonderfully mellow chestnut brown. His lips are soft. "I am not leaving you, Maxxie. I'd never leave you." I think I believe him, but I am not entirely certain. "You are leaving me right now, aren't you?" He doesn't answer, maybe he thinks I'm fishing for more talk of "always and forever", and God knows, he's said enough of that and I know he was being serious. His smile tells me that he thinks I'm just being cute. But I mean every word. If he loved me, if he loved me as much as I love him, or the way that I love him, he would never leave me. He would go to community college, he would stay. I sigh deeply. I never thought he would actually go for it. Stupidly, so stupidly, I thought we'd stay forever like we were all these years. Me sneaking into his room through the window, him coming to watch my crew dance, the two of us riding his bus, watching crap movies, eating junk, always trying to create a rock band and always ending up just us with his guitar singing "Wonderwall".

We keep looking at each other for a few minutes, and I try to channel in my gaze how much I love him, how much I need him here with me. I need nothing apart from him. I try to read his eyes, but all I see is kindness, not a trace of my dependency. "I fucking love you," I want to say, but I don't. I never do.

"Ok, ok, break it off!"

Two hands sneak between our bodies and practically yank us apart. I step back a little, and see someone taking my place. A girl taller than me, wearing tight jeans and a tube top (I'm in sweat pants and my DON'T WORRY, BE STUPID t-shirt that goes down to my knees), commonly known as Alicia Fields, my not-so-good friend, but still the friend I thought it suitable to introduce to Cody when he was going through a rough time. I thought they'd flirt a little, laugh, maybe make out in one of our parties. She wasn't into dating, and he wasn't her type. But they hit it off. It's been two months, I think, since they started seeing each other. I don't care much that they're dating; it doesn't seem like the relationship of a lifetime. They're simply having fun, knowing it won't last. But what gets to me is that Alicia Fields thinks that her two months of dating Cody give her the right to get between us, literally and metaphorically. I've known him for 16 years sister, IN-YOUR-FACE!

"Jee, Alicia, no need to push!" I grunt as they hug and kiss in front of me. When their mouths part, Alicia turns to me –still hanging from Cody's neck- and smiles. "Sorry Max, but I got jealous. If anybody saw the two of you they'd think you were his girlfriend, and not me." I try to smile back. How civilized of me, I actually understand how she feels, and, mostly for his sake, I make no sneering comment about how closer to him I am than her. Cody grins in appreciation; I think he caught my train of thought. "Max isn't my girlfriend, she's my wife," he declares to her and winks at me. He strokes her back with one hand and then bends down to grab one of his suitcases. "That's not a good thing to tell your real girlfriend now, is it?" she asks in a bitter voice. He leans forward and kisses her. "It's just the truth," he replies to her comment with his smooth voice that always gets him out of trouble. She can't get too mad.

And then he's gone. The car turns at the end of the street and he's gone. Alicia is still standing next to me, and though my eyes are misty, she doesn't seem all that sad. "Ok. Well then, Maxxie, see you around?" she asks and starts walking away. "See you around," I echo, waving a little as I'm watching her go. She's wearing high heeled shoes, and it's only 9 in the morning. I hate to admit they suit her, make her body seem modelesque and flawless in those tight jeans. I look down at my feet and realize I'm standing barefoot in the street.

I wanna cry.

But I don't, 'cos someone kindly hugs me from behind. I needed a hug very badly. I turn my head to the left a bit, and see the familiar pixie haircut. It's my sister, Leslie. "It's gonna get better in the next few weeks Max, I promise" she murmurs into my ear as she leads me inside the house. We walk in synch, her arms still around my shoulders. Our mom is standing at the porch, holding out a cup of coffee for me. "Yeah, right," I groan, taking the cup from my mother's hand. She motions for me to come closer and hugs me too. And I just stand there, hugged by my mom and sister, thinking that I know. I know exactly how the next weeks are gonna go down. It will be me, listening to Mayday Parade –Miserable at Best on replay-, thinking about how in love with my best friend I am, fearing the moment he's gonna wake up next to another gorgeous chick, smile, and think to himself, "Fuck, I should tell Maxxie about this!". Because he's Cody, and I'm Max, and we tell each other everything.

England, 1467

The first time for everything is scary. It would get better as time passed, as he got used to it. He was too young and something in his gut told him this, whatever this was, it was going to happen again, and again. Instead of terrifying him, the thought made him stronger because it meant that the next time it would happen, the next time they'd come for him, and chase him, and stone him and circle him with their fire and swords, he would be more prepared. Every time, he would be more prepared, until one time, he would be the one to kill them. Kill them all. Take their stones and bash their heads in, set fires to their homes, pierce them, cut them with their silver swords. He would get his revenge one day, and they would get to know what it meant to be afraid, chased, hunted.

But not this time.

Even though thoughts of bloody revenge strangely satisfied him, they didn't make his situation any better. He tried to keep running despite the fear –do vampires fear? Yes, if they are a young man of eighteen chased out of his village by fires and screams- despite the pain, because vampires hurt too. God knew how bad this fire had hurt him. He glanced down at his hands, at the black blotches that were devouring his skin. He got so scared by the sight that he screamed, he howled like an injured wolf, forgetting that the scream would tell his hunters where he was.

He went on running ignoring the exhaustion, and he could hear his panicky breath in his head. The hot air burnt in his lungs as he inhaled but he fought the desire to stop. He forced his feet to keep going, keep going, because he was NOT, he was NOT going to let them get him. The forest around him was on fire, he knew that this was Jacob's way of catching the beast.

"Cassian," he had asked the boy one day when he was carrying his sword and his saddle and looking at Jacob like his God, "What do you do when you want to catch an animal that is hiding in the deep woods?' The child had answered that he didn't know as he ran to catch up with his father, his strides were so large and Cassian admired him for everything, for his walk, his talk, the way he stroked his horse, the way he told him stories from the Bible, the way he smiled, the way that he had adopted him when his parents had died, the way he had said that Cassian and Michael were to take over the estate once he would pass away even though Cassian wasn't his real son. "You smoke it out," he had replied with a short grin and the boy still admired him and still felt safe.

"What happened?" Cassian wondered as he ran and ran, and his eyes filled with tears, and he knew it's not because of the smoke but because of them, 200 people that up to a month ago had been his only family. He urged himself to run faster, but then his right foot got tangled in a fallen branch and he fell too, and didn't bother to get up.

Moments passed as he laid there, still, as good as dead. He shut his eyes and allowed himself a few last breaths, even though inhaling that burning air didn't really feel like breathing. He gave up, he was handing himself over to them. Then someone came, picked him up, hit him. The stranger shouted something at him but he couldn't make out the words. He didn't open his eyes. He covered his face with his burnt hands and started crying out of sheer pain and panic. He didn't want to die, didn't want to be burnt and spit on, didn't want revenge. He just wanted to stop being what he was and go back to just being Cassian, not Cassian that bit Heather on the neck and drank her blood, Cassian that now Jacob and Michael and the whole village were chasing after.

"Don't hurt me…" he managed to mumble through sobs, and only then did he realize that the hands shaking and slapping him were now winding around his waist and pulling him close and there was someone else holding him too. He opened his eyes and saw Heather and Michael next to him, the three of them tangled into an awkward embrace, and he somehow understood what was going on. "I…" he started, but Heather broke from the embrace and waved her arms frantically at him. She was still wearing that gray dress, the one with blood covering her left shoulder and breast. But her neck was clear of the dried blood. Two dark puncture wounds were the only proof of his hideous actions. He thought she should be pale and faint, but instead her face was flushed, red and sweaty, her movements incredibly sharp. "There is no time Cassian!" she shouted and pointed to her left. "They are coming!" He nodded, he know they were coming but, now that he had stopped… I don't know if I can keep on going.

"Don't you hate me?" Cassian asked in desperation. He gawked at the girl, trembling and on the edge. I bit you, sister. I cut open your skin. I drank your blood. Don't you hate me? A punch came flying his way; it found his chin and knocked him to the ground. He grabbed his chin and stared surprised at Michael that was rubbing his fist. "Why would we hate you?" Michael shouted and his green eyes burnt into his own. He was older than Cassian, he was taller than him and he was his brother. Cassian admired him just as much as he admired Jacob, but he was too embarrassed to ever show it to him. "You are our brother. Our brother!" he said and these words soothed Cassian, but he uttered them with anger, and the other boy felt guilty for ever thinking Michel would be chasing him along with his father. "We love you Cassian, we love you" Heather shouted, as her brother –his brother- picked him up from the ground violently. "You must go," he said and set his warm hands on Cassian's shoulders, "The whole village is after you. They will kill you if they catch you, if you fall into their hands. They will not think twice. So run." Cassian shook his head. "No. No. If you can forgive me," his eyes found Heather's, "they can forgive what I did too."

"Fool!"

Michael's fingers dug into his skin as he gripped his shoulders tighter. The flames were dancing around them, setting monstrous shadows on his brother's and sister's faces. "Hear my words. They will kill you because they are afraid of you. Do NOT doubt it. They are afraid of you." Cassian's soul was screaming in helplessness. How could they be afraid of him? He was afraid of them! They were the ones that wanted to kill him, he had never wanted to hurt them. He had never intended to hurt Heather, but he simply…couldn't help it. It was hunger, it was suffocation. "And you?" he asked, ignoring their order for the moment. "Aren't you afraid of me?" More tears in his eyes, more lumps in his throat he had to swallow down. Michael gestured wildly, trying to tell Cassian there was no time to talk. But his brother wouldn't oblige him, he stared at him. He demanded an answer. If the two of them were afraid of him, then running away, leaving, it would all be pointless. In that case he wanted to die. His previous thoughts of killing, of revenge… In front of their disarming humanity, in front of Heather's torn neck but eyes that had already forgiven, they all crumbled and melted. Michael sighed and stared back at his brother with bold sincerity in his gaze, the kind of expression that had made Cassian trust his every choice back in the safe days.

"We love you."

---

Review if you feel like it. :)