Below Rock Bottom: Chapter Three "First impression"
AN: Sorry for the delayed update. I meant to get this out sooner, but I spent the week packing and moving. Not much time for writing. Thank you to those who have reviewed/favorited/followed, it's awesome. Any feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for sticking with me.
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
She made me cut my hair.
She said that it kept getting in the way when she bit my neck. At the time, I was livid. My hair was the last piece of myself that I had left. The one remnant of my past life. It was evidence that I was once better than this and could be again.
Each quiet cut the scissors made severed a part of me I feared would never return. Each lock of hair that fell to the floor took my pride and morals with it.
I was bothered by it at first. As time passed, I realized I preferred my altered appearance. If I still looked like myself, the guilt would have consumed me. Ivan's memory would relentlessly berate me for my betrayal.
His eyes, cold and dead staring at me accusingly as the cold-blooded monster sucked on his carotid artery. The sickening thud his body made as it hit the ground. He was dead long before the monster dropped his corpse to the pavement.
Ivan's voice taunted me as I crawled to his limp form, hopelessly applying pressure to the wound. He condemned me for failing him in life. In death, he haunted my days and nights, always there to criticize my every decision and further sentence me to an afterlife in the fiery pits of hell.
My new appearance allowed me to forget who I was, to not look in the mirror every morning and see the face of a disgraced guardian who has disappointed so many. I could pretend to be someone I was not.
My haircut did not concern me anymore. I suppose the hair could grow back when I wanted it to. When I was allowed to grow it back.
Other parts of me cannot be so easily repaired.
—O—o—O—o—O—
I kept running my hand through my short-cropped hair to relieve frustration.
The idiocy of these new graduates was a major pain in my ass. That morning I had already seen kids with red contact lenses, fake blood, and comical white face paint. Basically, a Dracula costume contest. Each van that arrived at the front gate had some variation of the same tired joke.
Although it was painstakingly obvious that these were poorly executed pranks thought up by juvenile delinquents, protocol dictated that I follow procedure in the case of attempted Strigoi infiltration. To sum it up: a thorough sweep of the van and its occupants, and a heaping pile of paperwork to document the incident once it was resolved.
Ordinarily, there would be plenty of time to complete the paperwork during my shift. No such luck today. A long line of black vans formed a train leading to the entrance, and each one added to the pile of papers I would fill out that evening. Gradually decreasing the already paltry amount of sleep that I would get.
I could hear the snickering of the teenagers as the vans pulled away. Every kid had a similar reaction, as if they thought their idea was so original and humorous.
Another black van pulled to a stop in front of my window. In a pleasant change of events, there were no Strigoi impressions in this one. One less form to fill out later. I was certain that the cars lined up next would more than make up for this small deviation from the norm.
The driver, a thirty-something blond-haired guardian, rolled down his window. "I've got another load of graduates entering court. Two Moroi and one Dhampir," the man said, and handed me the necessary forms.
I had fallen into a pattern at this point in my shift. I had been at it for hours, and each encounter blended in with the next. Grab the papers, glance in the car, open the gate, repeat. But this time, I hesitated.
I scanned the occupants of the car. The Guardian I spoke with, the two Moroi wrapped up in each other in the back seat. As I looked at the newly graduated Dhampir novice, my eyes lingered on her form.
Her shiny, dark hair pulled back into a perfectly tidy bun. Not a single hair out of place. I could only see so much of her face in profile, but what I saw ensnared me. The gentle slope of her nose, her slightly pouted lips, and strong jaw line.
She sat completely still in the car, fiercely gazing ahead towards court. Towards her future as a guardian.
And yet, it seemed as though her mind was elsewhere. Her gaze was not focused on anything in particular. Her brows were slightly pulled together, forming the slightest wrinkle, as if alluding to the troubling thoughts occupying her head.
I did not get the chance to ponder the nature of these thoughts as the van pulled away, and another took its place. And yet another form for the pile.
I spent the remainder of my shift thinking about the girl. The newly graduated guardian. All the other novices I saw today appeared to be the usual, naïve, glory-seeking teenagers awaiting their assignments.
But she was different. She took her job seriously. Too seriously for an inexperienced guardian who has never faced any real threat.
At the end of my shift, I looked back over the logs to find the names of all the new arrivals. Guardian Rogers was driving her vehicle, and the two Moroi were Christian Ozera and Princess Vasilisa Dragomir.
When I arrived at court, before I became the hot topic of the social scene, the Princess's name flew through the gossip circles like wildfire. She had run away from the academy for two years with her friend and guardian-to-be. That must be the girl. The Dhampir novice. Rose Hathaway.
Word of her rebellious nature had spread around court as well, and many blamed her for the girls' disappearance. Some went as far as to say that she had kidnapped the Princess. She was reckless, insubordinate, a known partier, and a pain in the ass.
I saw nothing of that girl today. She appeared troubled, plagued by inner turmoil.
Drastic personality changes do not happen so suddenly, or unprompted. Something must have happened to Rose Hathaway.
I could not keep myself from hoping to see her again, however unlikely that was to occur.
It was wishful thinking, but I found myself actually looking forward to the possibility of getting to know her.
—O—o—O—o—O—
The rest of my night continued to follow the normal routine. Workout. Visit the Queen. Destroy yet another punching bag.
Once I had disposed of the ruined bag, I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and made my way back to my apartment, eager to fall asleep and reset for a new day of monotony.
The door to my room was slightly ajar. No one ever enters my apartment but me. I unsheathed my stake and crept forward on the balls of my feet.
Years of Guardian training kicked into gear as I crouched to peer around the corner. Ever so slowly, I pushed the door open further, widening the gap enough to see inside.
After recognizing the intruder, I relaxed my stance, and lowered my stake. She was not a threat. At least not physically.
"Dimka! It's so good to see you again. It's been too long," Tasha said, then quickly advanced and pulled me into a tight embrace. She leaned back without releasing her hold on me to look at my surprised expression. "Now Dimka, what's with the shocked look? I told you I was coming. I called and left a message saying I would be here today. Don't tell me you forgot?" Tasha pouted, in an attempt to make herself more appealing.
I shrugged out of her hold and nervously scratched at the back of my neck. "No, of course I got your message," I avoided eye contact, and quickly changed the subject. "I'm just surprised to see you here this late, you must be tired. Do you know where you will be staying while you're here?" I looked around the small room but could not find any luggage.
"Yes, I'm here to visit with my nephew for his graduation, and he said that I could stay with him and his girlfriend for a few weeks," Tasha said, smiling up at me.
Internally, I groaned. Spending an extended period of time with Tasha Ozera was extremely undesirable, and to be avoided at all costs. I did not envy her nephew, nor was I looking forward to the next few weeks of avoiding Tasha.
"That's good to hear. I'll let you go spend time with him Tasha, and talk to you more tomorrow," I quickly ushered my uninvited houseguest to the door and closed it behind her.
I turned the lock and secured the chain for good measure.
I sunk down onto my bed and let out a big sigh. I should have listened to that message. At least then I would have been prepared. I could have boarded up my windows and stocked the cabinets with non-perishable food items. That is a mistake I will avoid in the future.
How is it that the one woman I wanted to stay away was persistent as hell, but the one I wanted to see again remained a mystery to me?
That night after finishing the mountain of paperwork, my dreams were filled with images of her face. Her haunted eyes, this time looking directly at me. Her presence was calming and kept the nightmares at bay. For once, my dreams did not wake me up, and I slept peacefully through the night.
-lethalwhispers