HELLO! oh goodness its been a while since ive uploaded anything and i sincerly apologize. But True Blood/the Sookie Stackhouse Novels have currently consumed my life at the moment, i sincerly apologize!

for those of you Alexander Skarsgard fans (man who plays Eric Northman, duh) i did some research:

-he plays Meekus in Zoolander. haha, love that movie.

-he is in the "explicit" version (just the longer version) of the Paparazzi music video by Lady Gaga, oh my god, so hot.

-finally, my personal favorite that i keep watching over and over XD, search on Youtube or somewhere= Hundtricket (Dog Trick-translated), shower scene. oh god Alex is partially naked in a comunity shower with two other guys just talking. you see pretty far down on Alex, oh goodness i am swooning just thinking about it now! the drawback, it's in another language (swedish i think), oh that's not the bad part, the bad part are THE FUCKING SUBTITLES! i really hate subtitles now. they should be on the TOP! sigh...im rambling too much...

on with the story: This will follow both the show and the books to an extent.

this is an EricxOC, and i hope everyone likes it :)

Disclaimer: fucking hate these...i own nothiiiingggg, only original plot/dialogue/characters...

reveiw please :)

ah, and i have not givin up on my other storiessssss!!!! i just need to get a few chapters of this out of my head and then ill be good!!


Living in Bon Temps, Louisiana is bittersweet for me. It's a new environment and away from the life I have been accustomed to for 24 years of living, then again, it's a new environment and away from the life I have been accustomed to for 24 years of living. See? Bittersweet. I've been living in this small southern town for about a month now; been living with my Aunt Laura and Cousin Tina, two people whom I love dearly. I was sent by my mother for my safety. I wonder what she's up to. My mother and I are extremely close, freakishly close if you will, so it's been especially hard for me adjusting to this not talking to her spiel; and I loathe it. But I'm lucky to have my mother's sister and her daughter to help me out.

I look up when someone places a warm hand on my own, shaking it gently. I smile sheepishly at my boss, Sam Merlotte, who is reaching over the bar countertop. "Leo, stop spacing out and get back to work," he grins. I mumble an apology as I take the tray of alcoholic beverages to one of my tables. After I deliver the drinks I walk to the little window that looks into the kitchen; Lafayette puts some food baskets on the window for me as Arlene comes to pick up as well.

"I swear Leo, I will never understand how you can get so many tips when you don't even smile when you waitress," she sighs to me.

"It's because she's so damn sexy, all the men wanna fuuuck her," Lafayette goes all homosexual ghetto. I smirk, "Hell, if I was straight, mmm-hm," he purses his thick lips together and flickers his index finger up and down my body. I roll my eyes as I take the tray to one of the tables.

"OK, chicken tenders?" I ask the family of four in my monotonous voice.

"None of us ordered chicken tenders…" the father answers. I lean all of my weight onto my right leg as my brows knit together.

"Hm, wrong table," I mutter while I think back to who wanted the food that's on my tray. Oh, right, the family of four with the twins, duh, oh could I forget that? So I take it over to the right table this time before I notice a couple sit at a table in my section. After I take their order I walk back to the window and scoot Arlene over so that I can place the small piece of note paper on the metallic rotator thing, whatever the hell that thing is called.

"I know every man, whether straight, gay, or George Mutha Fuckin' Bush is terrified…of the puss," Lafayette says to Arlene and Sookie, who shrills the cooks name in embarrassment.

"Ooh, what are we talkin' about?" Dawn, the fourth waitress that works at Merlotte's Bar & Grill, asks when she hands me her order and I place it on that damned thingermabob, what the fuck is that thing called!?

"Pussy," both Lafayette and I say simultaneously, though, he with his own flare.

"Hey look, not everyone, is gay," Arlene laughs, "Not everyone wants to have sex with you,"

"Oh, you would be surprised Arlene, people you know," he tilts his head down mysteriously, "And that's all I'm sayin,"

"Well, I know I don't wanna have sex with you," Dawn says with a bit of sass,

"Nuh-uh, me neither," Arlene agrees. I purposely look Lafayette's body up and down,

"Maybe if you were straight…" even though I'm joking, my words sound serious, but luckily these people have been able to pick up when I am kidding rather quickly. The black chef holds up his hand and I give him a high five through the window,

"That's ma girl right there ya'll, and the rest of you bitches don't know what you're missin!" he starts to thrust into the stove, "I've got six gears on this thang! Uh! Uh! Uh!" I start chuckling and shaking my head when Dawn starts making similar sounds as Lafayette was,

"No honey, you don't know what you're missin! You can watch her walk away... make you wanna slap it? You wanna slap it?" She says while strutting her stuff away from the rest of us referring to her ass.

"Everybody knows that. Everybody been there. Ain't that right? John's been there!" Lafayette calls out to her while gesturing to the busboy. Arlene backs away cupping her own breasts,

"Take these, baby. Peaches and cream," she smirks and Lafayette shakes his hips.

"I'll give you a little cocoa,"

"Peaches and cream,"

"Little cocoa,"

I shake my head at these people; imagine what my mother would say if she knew I was working with such outlandishly vulgar people like these. My blue eyes look over at my blonde haired friend; she turns to me with such an embarrassed facial expression then turns abruptly on her heel away from me. Shaking my head and chuckling I take my next order, "You people are fucking crazy," I mutter.

Waitressing is easy enough, I could be better at it, but I get too distracted with my thoughts and other things, that I forget what food goes to which table. I look over my shoulder to see Sookie taking someone's order. Sookie and I are real good friends even though we've known each other only one month. The reason for this is probably because we are both special humans. Sookie is a telepath, while I am a psychic. When we found out what the other was, it was just…amazing from then on out. See, Sookie Stackhouse can't hear my thoughts, but she can see the premonitions that I have. Her and I have told each other everything about our powers, every single detail and how it has affected our lives. It was quite refreshing to say the least.

As the night slows down, I notice Tara, Sookie's childhood friend, sitting at the bar and barely touching her green margarita. "Why buy a drink when you're not gunna drink it?" I ask her when I sit on the stool beside her folding my arms on the countertop and placing my head on them.

"I don't know; maybe cuz my life sucks,"

"Oh Tara, don't go and feel sorry for yourself, that's just lazy," Sookie says coming over to the bar as well.

"Well then why can't I keep a job?" Tara responds.

"Maybe because you can't keep you're mouth shut,"

"Bitch who asked you," they both laugh. "Oh," Tara continues, "And feeling sorry for myself is lazy? Have you even met this girl?" the black woman jabs a thumb in my direction. Sookie laughs and I just smile.

"Well at least she can keep her job for more than two weeks," Tara just mimics Sookie's sentence.

"Say, Sook, how's you're night going?" Sam, bartender and owner, asks the blonde waitress. Tara rolls her eyes then looks at me pointedly, and I give her a knowing look.

"I've had better nights," Sam leans on the counter leaning in towards Sookie.

"Anything I can do to improve this one for ya?" he grins. Sookie doesn't say a word; she's trying to hear his thoughts. There's an awkward silence, so I decide to fill it,

"Well…like how Sam? You plan on showing her a good time?" My eyes look up at his reddened face when he turns around and half glares and smirks sheepishly at me. Tara's cackle fills the restaurant and Sookie just gasps. "Leo!"

Tara pats me on the back and I begin chuckling along with her. "Oh, man, the look on you two's faces!" Sam smacks my head with a towel playfully,

"Git off you're lazy ass and start serving some customers," he laughs nervously. I moan and drag myself from the bar, when I look up I see a man going to sit in Sookie's section. I tilt my head to the side when I see a flash of him in the driver's seat of a car, Sookie in the passenger's seat wearing a white dress with a red floral design, and me in the back seat leaning forward; then a blurry neon red sign that reads "Fangtasia". I look over my shoulder at Sookie and her head's tilted in confusion; even though she can't regularly hear my thoughts, most times she is capable of seeing the premonitions I receive.

"Vampire," I say. Sookie whips around to Sam and Tara,

"Oh my God, that's Merlotte's first Vampire!" she says excitedly. I yawn when Sam agrees warily. "I can't believe it, right here in Bon Temps; I've been waitin for this to happen ever since they came out of the coffin two years ago!" and she springs off to attend to the new Vampire. I look around at my section, everyone seemed content, so I sit back down where I was just moments before in the same position and I close my eyes this time.

"You're chances with Sookie are shot now that the Vampire is here, Sam," my words are mumbled by my arms.

"What? What do you mean?" Sam doesn't know that I am psychic, but he does know that Sookie and I are…similar. I open my eyes and barely lift my hand to point at said waitress.

"You can tell by the way she's standing, all flirty and giddy like," I don't think she can hear his thoughts. Even though he's a Vampire, Sookie would never act that way around someone since she always hears their thoughts, so I am assuming that with this guy, it's different. Sookie comes back then returns with the Vampire's red wine then returns again.

"Do you really think that, she'll let him bite her?" Sookie asks as we all watch the Vampire converse with the Rattray's (Sam, Tara, and Sookie to clarify, I am too busy watching the inside of my eyelids).

"You know how many people are having sex with vampires these days. Sometimes those people disappear," Tara kindly informs us all.

"No, he's not like that," Sookie defends him.

"OK, OK, you spoke to him for like, a minute," I chuckle at Tara's sarcasm, "You don't know how many people he's sucked the blood out of for however many centuries old he is," her southern accent is so rich and deep.

"But he's so not scary…"

"Oh sweet Jesus and Mary, Sookie, he is a vampire!"

"Yeah but the synthetic blood the Japanese-!"

"Are you willing to give up all your favorite food to live off of Slim Fast?" Sam asks.

"That's not a good example Sam," I mumble, "Slim Fast has that beverage thing and tons of granola bars and I think some other things too,"

"You know what I mean,"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mutter and once again I drag myself from the bar stool and make my rounds like a dutiful servant, I mean waitress. As time passes, slowly, I look over to where the mystery Vampire was sitting to find that he and the Rattray's were no longer there.

My psychic abilities don't only include seeing the future (literally) but it also involves feelings or urges. It's difficult to explain, but it is sort of like mini visions, just without the actual seeing; like I'll get a good feeling about something and things will end up fine. Or maybe I'll just suddenly get an urge to do something and it'll somehow benefit me. It's just an extremely strong and accurate intuition, I suppose. Of course, the feelings aren't always good ones.

As Sookie runs past me to the entrance of the bar I rip off the piece of notepaper to give to Lafayette and say, "Give em' hell Sook," I walk past Sam and Tara as he runs out the back, "She'll be fine Sam," I barely call after him. Tara walks back behind the bar and starts taking people's order reluctantly. I ask her for two Bud Lights and a Coke and she puts them on my tray. "Tara, if you're civil to the people, Sam might just be nice enough to give you a job," I suggest to her.

"Hey, I'm only mean to stupid people," she justifies. I blatantly look around the bar,

"So you're nice to maybe like, one person out of every twenty that come in here," She glares at me and goes to reply but I cut her off, "When you talk to Sam about you're future employment here, mention to him that you can help look after Sookie," I lean on the counter with the tray between my arms when Tara's face contorts into a solemn consideration,

"It's that damn Vampire, you saw the way she was lookin at him," I nod, "Now that's just trouble waitin to happen," I shrug as I take to tray off the table,

"Maybe,"

---

"Why are you staring at me Sam?" I ask as I wipe down the tables at Merlotte's. I look up over to where the bar is and he shakes his head and continues counting some receipts and whatnot.

"I'm just trying to figure you out is all," I toss the towel to the next table as I stack the chairs on the one that I just wiped clean.

"What's there to figure out?"

"Well," he says while putting away the papers he was counting or whatever, "You hate waitressing," he states,

"Hate's a strong word,"

"OK, well you obviously don't like it," I agree then move on to the table that I threw the towel on and wipe that one down as I did the one before. In the bar it was just Sam, me, and John who I believe is the busboy and also assists Lafayette in cooking…I think. The restaurant is always so peaceful after everyone's left. "You're extremely lazy," yet again, I agree, "and yet you always offer for more shifts and you always stay to help me close," I stand up straight, place my hands on my hips, and shift my weight to my right foot as Sam walks over to a table near me with a towel of his own,

"You better not be complaining," Sam laughs,

"No, I'm not, I'm just wondering why that is," I lift some of the chairs with an exasperated moan, "oh, and you hate…I mean, dislike manual labor, forgot that one,"

"That's right. I hate doing any manual labor," Sam stands up straight with his hand on his hip and his other on the table,

"They why are you a waitress? I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong, we all love you here, I'm just…insanely curious,"

"Well," I lean my butt against the table across from Sam and he half sits on the one he is by, "I have a need to be busy. I have to move and in a place like Bon Temps, the only job that allows me to physically move is being a waitress,"

"But you don't want to be a waitress…"

"Nah, I hate serving people," Sam and I stare at each other before he speaks again.

"What kind of a childhood did you have?" I consider this for a moment.

"A busy one. My mother rarely slept, always working, she wanted to prove herself. Ever since I can remember I was the same way. I needed to be doing something, I thrived to complete a task, to get that small amount of personal pride. Although, I don't necessarily have to be around others like some people I know; I am perfectly fine in my own company for long periods of time, I just have to be doing something. I'm an insomniac like my mother as well, but not nearly as bad as she is. " Sam nods,

"You and you're mom have a bad relationship?" My eyes widen slightly,

"No, oh not at all, she's my best friend. She worked to give me the world, so in turn, I worked just as hard to make her life easier,"

"What about you're dad?" I look down at my black converses,

"I don't have a dad," I say sternly, ending that conversation. In truth, I do, technically, have a father, somewhere in the world. I cringe at the thought of how I was conceived. The two of us go back to wiping down the tables and placing the chairs up on the newly wiped tables.

"You're voice is sounding much better these days," Sam says after some few minutes of silent working. When I first came to this town to live with my Aunt and cousin, my voice was…non-existent. My throat was severely damaged from the outside and I had to have some minor surgery done on it. Thank God for medication is all I have to say. I told the locals, my coworkers and boss that it was injured in a car accident, which is a total lie, but they don't need to know what (or who) damaged my throat. The amazing power of cover-up, covers up the five small bruises arranged in a specific manner along my neck.

Speaking of injuries, I also have two scars on my head. One, right behind my right ear that goes about three inches down the side of my neck and another on the right side of my forehead, right on my hairline and it goes an inch below my temple. I've acquired these scars in an actual car "accident", and I use the term "accident" loosely. No one asks me about my scars because no one can see them. My new hairstyle hides them appropriately.

My hair used to be so beautifully long, just simply all the way down to my bottom and parted in the middle. Sure, brushing my hair was a real bitch, but it was worth it. The color of my hair is quite unusual, natural, but unusual. It is an extremely dark red. From far away it looks either black or dark brown, but close up and in some appropriate lighting, it is easy to see that it is a deep, deep brick red. Nowadays, my hair is significantly shorter, it falls on my shoulders, it has many layers and angles and I have bangs that fall long into my eyes and affectively hide my two scars.

"Time heals all wounds," I say. I pause and stop what I was doing for a moment as I see my Aunt Laura and the people that she works with sitting at a few conjoined tables at Merlotte's during the lunch hour; I am standing before them, ready to take their order when Margaret Perkins looks around me and waves to someone, that person is Sam; he comes over and smiles kindly at the older women, Margaret gets a sly look on her overly painted with make-up face and she says something, Sam and I look at each other, he with an embarrassed look, me with my normal controlled face but I could tell I was slightly embarrassed myself, then Margaret gets a fist full of Sam's right butt cheek making his eyes widen.

I return to wiping tables while pondering my vision. Sometimes they work like that. If I get a real good one I can see, smell, hear and even taste and feel everything. Those types of visions I love, even if they are bad because I get a riveting electrical vibrating sensation running throughout my body afterwards. I've never had an orgasm before, so I can't properly compare the two feelings, but I am willing to bet that the aftershock of my Five Senses Visions (what I call them) is better than an orgasm. Most other times my premonitions are either just images or feelings, and then less often than those, I get premonitions of just sounds. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and then the hand slides between my shoulder blades with a firm, but kind pat.

"Stop spacing out cher," Sam says grinning. I mumble an apology with a sheepish smile.

"So, Sam," I begin to grin, "that was uh, some line you pulled on Sookie tonight," I look up after placing the last chair on the table top, he refuses to look at me,

"Isn't it time for you to go home yet?" he asks. I walk up behind him with my hands placed innocently behind my back as I lean slightly forward.

"Maybe. I must say Sam, I was a little disappointed with that pick up line. You know Sookie, she's an innocent, and that line just screamed 'I wanna get in your pants'," I smirk as he turns around abruptly in a huff,

"Go home Leo," he tries to walk past me but I don't let him; hey, I need to have a little fun in my life now that I no longer have the love of my life to entertain me.

"Why are you all of a sudden hitting on Sookie so openly?" I ask in a playfully devious voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he mutters. I make a small hop in front of him as he tries to maneuver around me. Sam was about an inch taller than I was and since I was bending slightly, me being in my playful mood, he was looking down at me aggravated.

Along with my psychic abilities, I have a good sense of other people's emotions, better than most people do. I use this skill to my advantage, and right now, Sam really isn't that aggravated, so I press on in my game.

"Sure you do, ever since that Vampire came in here and you saw how she reacted you were all up on her cute little ass," he looks doubtful, "I saw those lingering touches, those just-a-little-too-long-of-a-pat-for-it-to-be-a-simple-boss/employee-relationship pats," I smirk and cock an eyebrow, my stomach was getting a giddy thrill out of this; I am such a mean person, getting kicks out of other people's discomfort. But then suddenly Sam's discomfort changes…quite instantly I must add.

"Are you jealous?" he states smugly rather than asks. I stand up straight, curiosity straining in my mind, of course, my face only displayed mildly of my inquisitiveness; because of my abilities I needed to keep my emotions and emotional display to a minimal level or else I get severe headaches, nosebleeds and my visions get out of wack, such a nuisance.

"Jealous?" Envy was surely not on my list of emotions at this moment. Why would he suggest that? This time, Sam moves in closer to me,

"Yeah, you're jealous that Sookie catches my attention more than you do," he smirks haughtily, but with his own sense of charm. I cock my head to the side with a blank expression on my face,

"Interesting…" I muse, "On any other woman this attempt to 'turn the tables' would have worked, but I am not susceptible to such…primitive antics of lust. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were hitting on me," I meet his gaze with a confident one of my own. Sam moves forward and places his hands on the table behind me on either sides of my hips, effectively trapping me; how cliché. I roll my eyes,

"Maybe I am," he says in a husky voice.

"Sam Merlotte, hitting on your waitresses is not something an employer should be doing. It's bad business and can get you into a lot of trouble, sexual harassment? Ever heard of that? Furthermore, it's not even good etiquette to clearly make an advancement on one woman, openly admit that you've made said advancement, then try to hit on another woman," I lecture him with an unwavering voice. Sam sighs and backs away,

"Jeez Leo, I was just kidding, take it easy," he smiles. Hm, 'just kidding'? I think not, more like only half kidding and half seriously considering the possibilities. Rolling my eyes again I turn and walk back to his office to retrieve my battered navy blue Jansport backpack as Sam shuts off the lights. He comes into the office gathers some things of his while I wait outside the door for him as he locks the door. "So tomorrow you're working three shifts, correct?" he asks nonchalantly.

I nod my head, "Correct," normally he would have opposed and suggested that I only work two, but in the end I would have convinced him otherwise. But moments ago he found out why I work so much, so things were slightly different today. I guess some would call me a workaholic, but…well I am. I am lazy, and I really rather not do anything at all, my mind opposes to doing anything, but my body has a need to do something, to move; sitting still and doing nothing are things not in my forte.

Walking out the back to the employee parking lot he walks me about half the way to my car as we normally do when I stay and help close the place. Sam does have some chivalrous points to him. "I'll see you at 10:30 tomorrow morning," he says with his hands in his jeans pockets. He stands in the middle of the parking lot with his back to his relatively nice trailer home, parked directly behind the bar. I walk to my aunt's car (don't even bother asking me what kind it is. I don't speak car, all I know is the color and basic mode; example: minivan, pickup truck, sports car, buggie, convertible, jeep and station wagon). Her car is a decent car that's black…

"Yes sir," I semi call back as I get into the car, tossing my bag onto the passenger side seat then pulling out of the parking lot; Sam watches me leave with a wave before turning to go into his own home.

----

I get out of the car and shut the door gently as I hike my backpack strap further up my shoulder. It was around 1:30 in the morning and I was barely feeling the need to sleep as usual. My aunt's house was a lovely home, it originated as a small cottage but then she had it remodeled into a rather large building. It is a blue-grey house with a front porch and two floors. She and I live in the main house. Off to the right and a little further down the large driveway is another house that was originally a large garage that has been converted into a small home, Tina lives there. Tina's house is a miniature version of the main house. I walk up the stone pathway which was illuminated by the porch light my aunt kindly left on for me. I take my key and open the door; I place my bag on the one of the sofas in the living room to my right before going into the kitchen turning on the light.

The house was very quite as I get out the sugar, vegetable oil, unsweetened chocolate squares, milk, eggs, flour, and then the appropriate measuring devices.

Aunt Laura sleeps upstairs in the far back left corner of the house while my bedroom, formally the second guest room, is in the very front right corner of the house, directly across from the living room. The layout of the house was quite different compared to most small town houses, not that I've been in any, it just seemed that way to me. When first walking into the house, one sees the shining dark hardwood flooring, to the left is the living room with a flat screen television mounted about the brick fireplace. The room is painted in a warming and pale tan color. To the right is a sitting area with a spiral staircase. If facing the sitting area or "quiet room" as Aunt Laura calls it, at the back of sitting area is a small hallway, and when you walk the four steps to the end of the hallway on the right, is a door leading to my room.

Following the recipe on the back of the unsweetened chocolate box, I mix and measure the needed amount into a large clear, glass bowl. Cooking at 1:30 in the morning? You may ask, well yes, it is what I do. I can never fall asleep until around 3 or 4, but if I am lucky I'll get to bed at 2, but I can feel that, that will not be the case tonight, er morning…

After mixing the ingredients I pour the mix into a pan with a bit of difficulty and making a small mess, but eventually, I manage to get the brownie mix into the brownie pan and get the brownie pan with the brownie mix into the oven. I sigh with pride. I'm not much of a cooker, but I can sure as hell bake the shit out of anything. There is a difference between baking and cooking though some believe otherwise. I begin to clean up the mess I've made once I've set the timer on the black oven. Once that task is complete I grab my bag from the couch and silently make my way to my bedroom.

My bedroom was decorated as the guest room and has been kept that way for I do not plan on staying in Bon Temps for very long. Or so I keep hoping to myself; by keeping the room designed as a guest room gave me secret hope that I would soon be able to go home to my old life style and be with my mother and my friends and my lover, Fazioli. Oh how I did miss her terribly, so terribly that it pained my heart. I miss caressing her smooth ivory and ebony keys to which she would respond to my delicate touch with such a beautiful song. Her glistening black body shone so elegantly in the spotlight. A small whimper escapes my lips as thoughts of my piano back in New York.

I remove my white "Merlotte's" T-shirt and toss it to the corner along with the rest of my clothing. I walk to my dresser and pull out a black sports bra, black spandex, and a pair of black running shorts. I tie my black and red running shoes onto my feet as brownie aroma fills the house. I still had a long time before the confectionary treats were ready. I walk out of my room and to the bathroom a little ways away from my own room. In the bathroom I grab a hair tie and gather my locks into a ponytail, any loose strands just fall aimlessly around my face. I observe my reflection in the mirror, my blue eyes were just like my mother, such an icy blue color they almost looked white. I sigh when I look at my facial structure; I hated it with a passion that I suppress deep within my heart. I looked, structure wise, like my "father", such a wretched man that my mother despised with all her heart. Every time she looks at me she sees him and it doesn't even matter that her and I have the exact same hair and eye color as well as the same lips, she will always see him. It hurts her even more so because I need to keep my emotions reigned in, something he did, though, he didn't have to do it they way that I do.

My breath catches in my throat as I see flashes of me running, some unknown murderer shooting an elderly woman in a place where it is snowing, I see a teenaged girl breaking her nail; I hear in an uncoordinated order of the gun shot, me panting and the sound of pavement below my feet and the actual nail snapping and the girl cussing.

I close my eyes and concentrate on my inhaling and exhaling carefully. Once my heartbeat has calmed I unravel a load of toilet paper and hold it to my nose as it begins to bleed. I sigh and sit on the toilet seat while tipping my head back. Tapping my heel impatiently I wait for the blood to stop flowing and once it does I clean my face of the dried substance.

I pull out the brownies and turn off the timer so that it doesn't wake up my aunt. As I immediately cut into baked goods, ignoring that they should cool first, I feel a soft warmth wrap around my ankles. "Hey Kat," I dish out the brownie squares onto a plate and I save one for myself and "accidentally" dropping a piece of one on the floor for Kat. Kat is a black cat with beautiful green eyes; her name illustrates the lack of imagination and creativity my aunt and cousin have when it comes to naming animals, it is a wonder how they have their own successful clothing store. They spell the cat's name with a "K" to somehow justify the name.

After I have eaten my brownie and downed it with a glass of ice cold milk (the only way to drink milk) I play with Kat for a few minutes, then I decide to go for my run. I have a very specific route and I know it well, it's a 10 mile route.

---

Shedding my sweat soaked garments I immediately rush into the shower and turn it on, sitting back, letting the water fall on me. I sit there for a few minutes, regaining my energy, but before long I stand up and proceed with the washing and shaving of my body. Once out I towel dry my hair and dry the rest of my extremely toned and fit body, something of which I take great pride in, I work hard to get my body to look this good. So I'm a little vain, shoot me. I wrap the towel loosely around my body and I gather my discarded clothes and sneakers and I make my way to my bedroom; embracing the cool air conditioned temperature. In my room I pull on a pair of boy short underoos and a slightly loose but fitted purple tye-dye t shirt and a pair of black ankle socks before leaving the room and going into the kitchen again.

There I wash the dishes, Kat watches me from the counter to my right. She doesn't sleep much like me, which is weird since cats sleep all the time, hence the phrase "cat nap". As I dry the newly cleaned dishware, I look at the clock on the oven, it was 3:26, and I was glad, I was getting awfully tired now. I finish putting away the dishes and I wipe down the kitchen and I clean up the bathroom after myself. I was never a compulsive cleaner, I had people to do that for me and I always had too much on my plate to keep me too busy to even worry about cleaning; but these days, I have nothing but time. So cleaning consumes my time quite nicely and it keeps me busy, though I really rather not do it, it's pretty gross.

I retire to my room, brushing the knots out of my naturally straight hair as Kat hops on my bed. This was her room before I came along. Finally, at 4:16 I get under the covers.

Today was a relatively normal day of "Cleo Sheridan"'s life in Bon Temps Louisiana; aside from the new Vampire…but other than that, tomorrow should be the same.