Bound by Blood (A Vampire Academy fanfic)

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this story. These characters belong to Richelle Mead.

The wind blowing against my skin made me shiver and I could feel the Goosebumps coming up. Sunlight streamed in through a nearby window and I had to squint at my surroundings. I was in one of the abandoned lounges near the Dhampir dorms. My clothes were strewn all over. What happened last night? Why am I here?

And then, like a massive wave, it hit me. The burning. Ralf. His words. Ralf. The pain. Ralf. I knew what happened but I didn't want to believe it. His words rang true through my head and shivered my spine. He had his way with me last night. He took something so valuable from me: my dignity. And if I knew Ralf, he would already be spreading the news. That he'd brought down Rose Hathaway.

There was an imminent pain between my legs. I'd had sex before and it had hurt like hell the next day but this was different. Dimitri had been as gentle as he could be, despite his size, so although painful, the night brought lots of pleasure. This however felt worse. It felt like a truck had slammed into me multiple times. Evidence I didn't want of what happened last night.

I found my clothes and slipped them on as gently as I could. Scurrying back to my room, I couldn't help but feel repulsed by myself. Usually I didn't let what other people thought bother me but I had to question my outfit of the day. I had worn a shirt with a cute black blouse and boots. I knew that the skirt was short when I put it on this morning and I loved the way it showed off my ass. Maybe it was a bit too intriguing. Maybe that's why Ralf thought I was easy.

I stripped off to slip on my pyjamas. I glanced at myself in the mirror and it just made me feel all the worse. There were bruises lining my collarbone and tracing down my hips. You could almost make out the handprints. At the sight, I burst into tears.

This was the lowest point in my 18-year-long life. No one had ever degraded me to the point where a glance at my own body felt like throwing up. I prided myself on my body and the way I took care of it. I loved the way people stared after me because of how beautiful they thought I was. With my exotic features and curvy body, I was a conquest for both Moroi and Dhampir boys alike. And although I flirted with boys, I would never do more than make out. But today, an act so special to me was forced upon me and I couldn't help feeling dejected.

Snuggling into my comforter, I wished it could shield me from everything and everyone, even my own thoughts. My thoughts were imprisoning me and I couldn't breathe. I was going to pass out soon, and I welcomed it. Passing out seemed to be my only way to fall asleep. The problem with only caring about your own opinion was, when it was self-hating, it hurt the most.