Dimitri's POV in Spirit Bound Vampire Academy

Chapter 7a

Hey, yeah I know it's been a while. But exam stress and all . . . and I updated somehow. Yaay! I won't be uploading much until after my exams (till the beginning of July). From then, hopefully there'll be regular updates 🙂
I need the time off, especially since I'm trying to get into medicine, which I've heard is pretty tough.
Enjoy!

An unknown force grasped the dark magic that fueled on blood and violence, and over-powered it with a sweet sensation I hadn't felt ever since . . . ever since I was alive. Truly alive. It enveloped my heart and spread through my body, tickling my senses. My vision, filled with a comforting darkness, as if in a well-deserved slumber . . .
A hand stroked my hair, gently. The way my mother had done to me, as a child. I sat, collapsed on the floor with my head on Vasilissa's lap. I could feel the cold, hard ground against my body. I slowly opened my eyes---and shortly after, I wished I hadn't. Memories of the previous months scorched through my mind. Of the deaths I caused, what I did to Rose---
I glanced at her---just barely---before turning my head away in shame. I couldn't face her, not after what I had done to her. The memories taunted my mind, replaying over and over, every horrible thing I had done, the blood I spilt. My eyes flooded with tears, soaking her lap. I could scarcely breathe, something I hadn't ever had trouble with before in a long time. It almost felt good; an indicator that I was no longer undead, but truly alive. But how? I clamped my eyes shut, welcoming the darkness. I couldn't face them, not after the horrific things I'd done . . .
Her grip suddenly tightened around me. I didn't move, until I felt someone pry her away from me. Instinctively, I clung onto her, my eyes still glued shut. But I hardly had any strength left within me, and they easily tore us apart. I didn't know who they were, but I let them drag me away, too afraid to open my eyes. Anger fuelled cries followed as I was hauled further away, but they soon diminished into muffled words.
I let myself be hurled away from the bloody mess that surrounded me, the mess I had created. I'd probably be killed, I deserved it and I'd welcome it. Death seemed like a more tempting offer than living with the guilt of everything. With what I became.

*****     

A kick to the stomach jolted me awake. I sat up, taking in my surroundings. I was on the floor, in a cold guarded cell. It was a relatively large room, for a cell, with a depressing shade of grey on the floor and thick iron bars surrounding most of the cell. I looked up at the guardians in front of me, recognising some of them, and one in particular: Hans. A guardian I had worked with at the Academy, it seemed like a life-time had passed since I had worked there. So much had changed since . . .
Clumsily, I rushed to my feet and froze. All four guardians poised their stakes, their eyes focused on me. Several long seconds passed before I snapped out of dazed state, and I took a few slow steps back, but made no move to fight. I was surprisingly composed. Turning away, I strode over to the provided bed, which was more of a steel slab than a bed. Sitting down, I focused my gaze on the ground.
The sound of multiple footsteps invaded the silence as they rushed towards me. I made no move to stop them, three of them pinned me to the slab, whilst Hans used a silver stake to slash a deep cut into my arm. I felt nothing, as I watched the blood trickle down my arm, a thin line before oozing out of the cut in a river of blood. The wound didn't heal, which had surprised me. They clearly hadn't expected that either: their faces registered shock for about a second before turning into that grim expression guardians had been trained to do.
I waited for them to move away, before sitting up to wipe the blood away. I returned to my observation of the ground, I couldn't look at them. The shame and trouble I caused, I was the creature I swore to kill and trained to fight, for most of my life. I hurt them, I tortured them, I killed them, I enjoyed it. I craved their blood on my fingers---I wanted power. I drank their blood, I killed them. I enjoyed it. It was a chant in my mind, like some sick mantra. I was a monster, no. I still am.
It was painfully hard to ignore, but I managed. Hans bombarded me with questions I answered without thought, monotonously. He eventually left me to my own thoughts, and shortly after a human entered the cell, accompanied with a guardian. They placed something on the floor, but I made no heed to it, or them.
It was almost like I could see them, every innocent life I took. It must have been in the hundreds. No . . . I had to stay awake. When I closed my eyes, they were there. Every death I caused played in my mind, I could feel the warm blood on my numb fingers, the power in every move. I shook violently. My hands were painted with thick blood, I could smell it, taste its sweetness. Bodies were scattered. The floor was red. I blinked.
And then it wasn't. I stared at my dry hands, and at the unusual glow I hadn't realised was there, before I had turned Strigoi. I took a deep breath, only just noticing a cool metallic smell that wafted through the air. My eyes scanned the room for the source. On the floor, there was a tray with two identical bowls on them: one had been filled with what looked like a soup, the other was filled with blood.
Blood? Cautiously, I creeped over to it, to inspect its contents. As I got closer, the entwined scents of the blood and soup became stronger and sickening. I stared into the blood-filled bowl, into its crimson depths. I had survived on that for months, I thought, disgusted. The cell now smelt like warm soup, but the iron smell of blood seemed overbearing. Pushing the blood away, I picked up the soup and moved to sit on the ground furthest away from the other bowl. Slowly, I brought the spoon to my lips to take a sip. The warm liquid trickled down my throat, providing an inner warmth. Thick and sweet.
I rushed to gulp down the liquid, feeling its warmth spread. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, the smell . . . I stood up to inspect the blood again. Why had I crave blood so much? It was life that I had lusted for. To be able to live again, I needed blood. When I had been . . . one of them, I failed to realise that the power and 'life' I felt was all an illusion. 'A dark magic reanimating you' Rose had said once. I felt sick. Sick with everything that's happened, I didn't deserve this. No, I did this to myself. I wasn't strong enough on that rescue mission, when I had been overpowered and turned. I was weak, and even now I'm helpless. I hadn't felt weak in a long time, and I hated it. 
I looked down into the blood. This had been taken from someone, a feeder? I suddenly felt very sick. Were they trying to test me? I looked like my old self, heck, I had been asleep. Strigoi can't sleep. Wasn't it obvious? I'm not one of them! Memories of that intense smell of blood I had overflowed my mind. That addictive substance was sweet and delectable, the liquid was warming. It had brought me strength and power and---
I could feel soup rise to my throat, as I vomited all of what I had just eaten moments ago. My body couldn't digest it, I couldn't. I rushed to the sink, just as someone rushed into the cell to clean the mess up. Looking at the mirror, I gasped. Strigoi have no reflections, and I had been no exception. I hadn't seen myself, or truly seen myself properly for months. Looking at myself here, I've changed. A lot. My skin held a tinge of sickly paleness, paler than it usually was, but not as pale as a Strigoi. And my eyes . . . I somehow looked older, though I felt like a child. Helpless, afraid . . . Of what? I wasn't really sure. Everything? I had never wanted to go back to Baii, as much as I did now. Back with my family. I wanted to forget everything and be there, safe. But that wasn't me. I'll make things better. Even when everything I did was . . . unforgivable. I'll change.
But could I really? It seemed nearly impossible. Sighing, I turned to look at the human on her knees, mopping up the mess I made. Slowly, I crouched to help her, grabbing the spare cloth beside her to imitate her actions. Clumsily, she jerked away with watered eyes. She screamed and in seconds, a group of guardians rushed, pinning me to the ground. I resisted at first, my buried guardian instincts rose to the surface as I tackled a few of them and almost succeeded.
But something made me freeze up in shock, and my head instantly connected with the ground. "Don't hurt him!" Vasilissa cried. Black spots danced across my vision, and I lay there dazed. "Don't you see it? He's not one of them." On hearing the princess, they let go, but stood in close proximity.
She swiftly rushed to enter the cell, and a wall of guardian stopped her from getting any closer. "You know he's no longer on of them, he can't hurt me." She stated coolly.
"We can't let him near you." Han's responded in a respectful tone. "Not until we're sure."
"You can't--"
"We were ordered by Queen Tatiana herself, to not allow anyone into this cell, especially not any royals." He interrupted, speaking firmly. From what I remember about the prisons, only royals were allowed to see any of the prisoners, and any guardians on duty. Yet for some reason, I knew that wasn't going to stop Rose from seeing me.
Vasilissa reluctantly turned to leave. "Wait." I pleaded. She swivelled back to face me, her face registered surprise as we made eye contact. "Please, I only ask that you stop Rose from getting here."     

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