I've never felt so dead and I've never felt so alive. Dead like those seconds before dying each morning when the rigor mortis takes over before my consciousness dies, but more. Alive, maybe, because i'm facing death. I am death. I'm becoming death. Soon I will not be death because I will not be. Nearly 200 years. A relatively miniscule time but I'm sick to fucking death of this bullshit existence. There's light on my face. Heaven's light? Hell no. Sunlight? Maybe. It burns. And then I remember I'm indoors and the burning is because of my gaping sucking chest wound and the silver cuffs on my wrist. I want it all to speed up except I reason that time is probably inching by, a second has passed in the last hour, and I can't ask for much more than what's already been taken from me.
A bit more light accompanied by a weird burn all down one side. THAT felt more like sunlight. Bring it on, please.
Vibrations in the floor make everything hurt, especially the little swimming pool for ants at my throat. Fuck. I'd almost forgotten the pain. I would move but... footsteps. Not Lorena's electric slides, no, not her stalking, deliberate foxtrots. These are quick and light and childish and... god, I know what's going on. I am certain. That which I am certain of is something which I am still trying to figure out. It's her. It's who? It's...
There's sound vibrating through the air I can feel it through my ears and into my useless gelatin of a brain starts with B ends in ill I'm ill so ill Bee-ill be ill who's Bill?
There's pressure and shaking little delicate southern darling hands. Let's chat, get out of my head so I can see her or rather trying to pull something back into my head some life or something try to close up the vomiting mouth on my chest. Voice staccato or the opposite what's that called again in my ear like a piece of cotton jabbing against my brain stem useful as a stick of asparagus. Legato that's what it's called. Not sure which. Salty water on my cheek. Haven't cried properly in years but doesn't it feel great, let it out have a good cry salt water running down my face salt mucus in my nose. Oh wait no. I don't cry tears I cry blood isn't that funny haha I cry spew puke snort spit cum shit blood. I am ebola don't let me bite you 'cuz it's contagious. I'm not crying so therefore it follows logically that the other person - she - is crying. What for? I am death. i am alive. I should be the one that's fucking crying. Ouch that fucking hurts. Drag myself to the surface going to tell her to stop.
Don't get that far first off because I can't because moving my head alone is like pushing a tree down by punching it and did I mention the tree is made of silver, and second because there's no need because the craziness goes away when she sees me punch down the silver tree. I would too because that shit is impressive. Eyes open now and I'm both surprised and very very unsurprised to see her... there's some of her blond hair in my mouth it smells like sunlight. Everything smells like sunlight now because sunlight means death and that's what we're dealing with. But goddamn is she beautiful, my dearest, my darling - "Sookie."
Sookie, with an "ee" sound at the end, and not aggressive "Sookeh" - no time for antebellum posturing, just time for genuineness. No time for anything. She doesn't realize that quite yet at this particular point in time and it's cute, and now that i've punched down the silver tree and my eyes are open I can almost trick myself into not realizing it either because my eyes are the one part of me not pissing blood and where my smell hearing touch is all fucked up my eyes are good and my eyes see her. Everything else swims but I see her, this is nothing new though I've always seen her and everything else swam, a human with me at the end and human tears. Human tears that clean not vampire tears that make everything even uglier than it already was and I swear I'm very happily unsurprised. She's the silliest thing i ever knew and all the same the smartest and she's never been lovelier than she is right now ugly-crying and I'm fucking her life to hell right now - she knows it and she doesn't and at the horror of it all I have no choice but to laugh. "Hah." She smiles at that which is good because otherwise she would think I was laughing at her which I'm not, i'm not, I swear i'm not.
And there's a smile playing around my lips despite it all despite everything because in life I never smiled enough, I smirked certainly enough for all of us but I never smiled at her normally without that little rakish tilt of my head and she loved it, maybe she knew but maybe she didn't that the rakish tilt was there not for her amusement although that was a great by-product but because if there was no tilt that would leave a straight-on smile and evil crawls into a smile and shits on your tongue. Where did I hear that, surely I didn't make it up myself I've never been that smart, but it's time to be honest now I remember exactly where I heard it and it was from our slave back in good old Loosiana. Slaves' quarters at the end, and slave legends - 200 years and I can still be surprised. I'm going to smile at her until I've made it up for all those bullshit rakish tilts and this halfassedhalfsmile is going to have to do because I already punched down the silver tree what more do you want from me?
Then the electric slides the smooth foxtrots slow, slow, quickquick she doesn't notice how can I be noticing and I want to warn her sookie sookeh but the silver tree picks her up and flings her against the wall, and all these times I've had to watch or hear about her being surprised I just want to say use your fucking ears, but too late for that because my ears just exploded with her screams-
She's a vampire and the silver tree is burning her, she is hissing and melting and paralyzed. She's a human and a vampire is feeding on her she is hissing and melting and paralyzed. she's fallen out of the tree and is sitting on the ground licking her scraped knee wants to get up and go in for lemonade but the fall was too scary and the thump made her head shake and she's all out of blood not metaphorically but literally. And then foxtrot slow-slow-quickquick and I hate you, you killed my girlfriend.
And she bends down to kiss me with a mouthful of my girlfriend's blood but the kiss never comes, what comes is a shower a baptism of sweet sookie and she dribbles it into my mouth like a mother bird, like a werewolf, like a mother wolf and I choke a little but just from the shock and then sookie crawling over - stay away, she's already killed you don't let her do it again - but then she wants what I want, the silver tree and I, and she's grabbing at the fluffy blond curls and shoving her punctured neck into my mouth and I'm already sucking and they both want the same thing and the swimming pool for ants is sealing itself around a lock of yellowgold cornbread hair.