Below Rock Bottom: Chapter One "Nowhere to go"
Expanded background info:
Everything that happened in the books has happened up until they arrive at court, just without Dimitri. He has never met Rose. The girls were brought back by Alberta, who then mentored Rose. Lissa was kidnapped, Spokane, Mason died, the ghosts, battle on the Academy, except no strigoi Dimitri, and there was no rescue mission. Eddie was turned Strigoi. Rose never went to Russia. Also, Rose was there the whole time with Avery Lazar, and she and Lissa never fully recovered from that. Through all of this, Rose did not have Dimitri, her rock, to help her stay sane. She carries the darkness, the guilt over losing her two friends, and the duty to protect her charge, Lissa. Rose faded away, her life became her duty to Lissa, and her battle to keep herself from drowning in the depths of her insanity.
Dimitri's situation will become clear soon enough. He's a tall, attractive Dhampir man at court, seeing the queen, bite marks on his neck… think about it. At this point, our god-like guardian from the series is unrecognizable. He's been in this life for a year now and couldn't pull himself out of it even if he tried. He lost all motivation after Ivan's death, and this is his form of self-punishment.
AN: After thinking about where I want the plot to go, it seems critical to the story to write some of it in Dimitri's POV, and I will give it my best shot. I appreciate constructive criticism, or any ideas to improve my story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy, it is the property of Richelle Mead. While I wish I could have come up with this brilliance, I was simply inspired by it.
DPOV
In the past, each resounding thud of my fist making contact with the vinyl bag would have relieved some of the tension I was feeling. Instead, the more I hit the bag, the more I picture my own face in the place of the small tape square. With each blow, my knuckles ache, yet I continue relentlessly.
The haze of her bite slowly wears off, but with the mental clarity comes the onslaught of memories. I can do nothing to forget the feeling of her hands on my body. I only find relief when she bites me again, and the pleasant endorphins lull me into a blissful state of ecstasy.
My life has become a never-ending loop, a hole I keep digging with every punch, and every visit I make to her room. A chasm of my own creation that I can never escape.
Morning shift at the gate. Midday work out. Afternoon "Guardian duties" in the Queen's chambers. In the evening, take out frustration and self-loathing on the punching bag until I collapse from exhaustion.
Every goddamn day. Never ending, never changing.
The sharp ring of my cell disrupts my rhythm for a moment before I continue my assault on the bag. Ring after ring I ignore the call, until it finally goes to voicemail.
Punch after punch, hit after hit, my breathing becomes increasingly ragged.
My fist makes contact with the bag one last time before my legs give out and I crumple to the floor. I stare up at the ceiling, in no rush to vacate my spot on the floor. No one approaches me or stands anywhere near me. It is as if I have a disease.
In no hurry to return to my cramped apartment, I slowly rise and make my way to the locker room. Standing under the spray of the shower, the running water does nothing to wash away the vile things I've done. The revolting person I've become.
The soap washes away the smell of her perfume, but not her bite marks on my neck.
—O—o—O—o—O—
On my way back to my room, I watch the hubbub of court life in the evening. The sun will rise any minute, and the Moroi seek to be inside before the rays of light can reach them. The Dhampir guardians remain outside, ever watchful, prepared for any sign of danger.
I used to wait until the hallways were empty before making my way back, unable to bear the whispers and the glares. Over time, I became numb to it all, and court gossip moved on to bigger and better things. I tried my best to avoid everyone. Life is barely worth living when no one will look you in the eye or maintain a conversation longer than absolutely necessary.
Once I close and lock my front door, I pull out my phone to check the message from the gym and lean back against the solid wood. Only two people ever call me anymore. My Mama calls once a week to make sure I'm still eating. Every time she calls, her disappointment drips off her every word. This time, the message is from my old friend Tasha Ozera.
I don't even need to listen to the message to know why she's calling me. It is the same routine every time every few weeks. She makes degrading comments about me being the Queen's personal "pleasure blood bag", or more commonly known as bloodwhore. She then moves on to say how much better I am than the life I'm living. She tells me how much she misses me and offers for me to become her guardian. Every time.
Even if I was remotely interested in guarding Tasha, I could never have another charge. I cannot be trusted with the life of a Moroi. I failed once, and I will not let it happen again.
Sighing, I make my way to my bed and collapse on top of the covers, not bothering to change my clothes. I stretch out my 6'7" frame, and my legs extend past the end of the bed, hanging in the open air. Even the Queen's favorite bloodwhore can't get everything, even a longer bed.
She said that if I wanted a larger bed, I could simply stay with her at night.
I may have lost all of my self-worth, but that is one line I will not cross.
I reach over and set my alarm clock for early in the morning, in preparation for the commotion tomorrow. The graduating class from St. Vladimir's Academy arrives bright and early. The large group of teenage Moroi and graduating Novices, all blissfully unaware of the pain and heartbreak of reality.
Some of the new guardians will die quickly, others will live long enough to endure the deaths of each of their friends and colleagues. Either way, a brutal awakening awaits them before their promise mark tattoo even begins to heal.
As I lay there, awaiting the arrival of sleep, my fingers lightly grazing my own promise mark, I think of my own naïve days as a new guardian. Before that fateful day.
Before the day I hesitated, and it cost me the life of my friend and charge, Ivan Zeklos.
-lethalwhispers