Possession [H.S] ✓

Chapter Forty-Three

Layla.

I always knew that life would never work out the way that I wanted. Ever since I could remember the auction was something that everyone always talked about. But the funny thing was I rarely heard anything good about being sold to someone, and at the time that didn’t bother me. I knew that being sold against our wills wasn’t a good thing, but now my entire perception of the situation was changed all because of one vampire; Harry.

He changed me in good ways, and also in bad. Sure, he didn’t always treat me the best, but in the end he seemed to change. I didn’t regret anything he’s done because he only did it to protect himself. I just wish I had been able to break down a few more of his walls before we were pulled a part, so that I could’ve gotten to know him more. We barely knew each other, or at least, I barely knew him. The deepest thing he’s ever told me about himself was the last time that he was ever truly happy, and for some reason I always thought that I could’ve changed that and given him more happy memories. Now it’s too late.

My eyes shifted toward my left hand, and tears stung my eyes. It hurt like hell, and the bloody bandage that was wrapped around it had to be constantly changed and tended to. The bleeding and the pain seemed like it was going to be a never ending cycle. I still couldn’t believe that Damaris actually cut my fucking finger off like it was nothing to him. He almost seemed to enjoy watching me whimper and thrash inside of myself while the compulsion that he had used on me held me in place.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he also carried me up to his room afterwards, and ripped the shirt I was wearing, Harry’s shirt, to shreds that hung on my torso. I was wearing a tank top underneath it, but it was now stained with my own blood, and I felt nearly naked. He was demeaning me in the cruelest way, by taking away my dignity. There wasn’t much left of me anymore, and I couldn’t do anything to help myself. I guess it was true what everyone has been telling me from the beginning, I’m just a human, I can’t protect myself, and I’ll never be able to decide for myself. My species in the lesser of both the made vampire and the lamia vampires, we’ll never get to win.

I closed my eyes, and quietly cried. The blood from the bandage around my hand was seeping through it, and soaking the bed sheets, but I didn’t care. Let my blood soil the stupid silky sheets, they weren’t the silk sheets I wanted to lay on anyway.

The door to the room opened, and Damaris entered slowly. His gaze was on me, and it was cautious, almost like he was afraid of an outburst that I would have, but I couldn’t even find it in me to acknowledge his presence. I was too afraid of what else he would do to me.

Gently, the space next to me on the bed dipped, and cool fingers picked up my left hand, and blue eyes studied the bloody bandage. Slowly, he unwrapped the bloodied item and tossed it into the nearby trash. It was obvious that he was trying to angle it so that I would be unable to see my hand, but his timing was off, and I did see it.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw the amount of blood running down my hand from the space between my middle and littlest finger. The finger that my ring had once been on was just gone, and in its place was a hole that showed me things that I never wanted to see again. I could see sections of veins that weren’t attached to anything, and were spilling out blood, ripping muscle and skin. There were hesitation marks just below the actual wound, a bit closer to my hand, showing that Damaris didn’t want to do what he did at first, but his conscious was beat out by his pride.

The sobs that were escaping my throat became louder, and I pressed my face into the pillow that my head had been resting on. My body was gently trembling, and I wished that I had a pair of cool arms to wrap around my body, and comfort me, but I’d never get that again. Lamia vampires were warm blooded by nature, so their skin was usually always warm.