Two years ago.

I'm angry. I'm feeling a shit load of emotions right now, but if i could sort them into a pile, the strongest I'm feeling at the top, anger would be the one on top of all the others.

I suppose betrayed would be the closest i'm feeling to angry, making me unsure if i want to break down and sob my guts out or grab the nearest breakable thing and hurl it against the nearest wall. She knew. Hell, i think every person in this godforsaken town knows how i feel about vampers, only the closest to me knowing the real reason why i feel this way about them. She knew and yet it almost feels like she doesn't give a fuck.

I swallow and force down the sob i can feel rearing its ugly head, my eyes fluttering closed, balling my fists up, digging my blue painted nails into my palms. I should never have come here, that thought making me sigh heavily, my eyes opening staring down at the bag laid out on my bed which is about half full. The sooner I get everything in this bag, the sooner I can leave.

"Mags?. What...what are you doin'?."

I bite my tongue, not wanting to speak to her, knowing that if I opened my mouth then I'd only end up saying something I regret, not looking at her, moving back to the wardrobe, grabbing the last few things I have hanging up, yanking them off their hangers then carrying them over to my bag, folding them quickly then throwing them in before heading into the bathroom, knowing full well she was still stood there.

"Are...are you leaving?. Why are you leaving?."

I shake my head, unable to believe her nerve, throwing the few bottles i have on the sink along with my toothbrush into my small toilet bag, walking back into the bedroom finding Sookie is sat on the bed stopping in the middle of the doorway, our eyes automatically locking.

"What did you just say?," she asked, clearly having heard me mutter under my breath somehow.

"Well, clearly you heard me, princess. So why don't you fuck off and let me finish so i can get out of here," I said angrily, storming over to my bag, throwing the smaller one in then zipping it up.

"Don't leave, not like this. I...i don't understand."

"No, YOU don't understand. Sookie...you know how i feel, okay?. You...you know full well what happened to my parents, to...to Paul. You know...knew and you didn't care."

"Mags, you don't get it. He's...different. He's not like the others."

"Oh, cut the crap, Sook. He's a vampire, a bloodsucker, a killer. He's no different from the one who killed my family and left their bodies in pieces like a damn jigsaw puzzle. I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna stick around and watch him leave you like that fucker left my family. I'm...i'm sorry."

I finally feel myself break and shatter, yanking my bag off the bed, running downstairs and out of the front door, moving to my car, opening the trunk, throwing the bag in then jumping in behind the wheel, starting the engine.

I don't make it very far before my tears make it near impossible to drive, pulling the car over to the side of the road, burying my face in my hands, sobbing harder, knowing i'd just walked away from the people I've come to look upon as my second family. And i can never return.

Present Day.

I cannot believe i'm doing this yet again, running away, leaving everything behind me, the place I'd called home for the past two years. After leaving Bon Temps, moving to New Orleans, I'd made a vow to stay there, most of all never to return to that backwoods town in Louisiana.

I should just ignore that damn voicemail, delete it, pretend i never heard it in the first place. Whatever trouble Sookie and her stupid bloodsucking boyfriend have gotten themselves into should have nothing to do with me. But why am i feeling like a total bitch for even thinking that?. She's still my friend and i can't find it in me to just delete that message.

"Stupid bloodsuckers," I muttered under my breath, slamming my hand against the wheel of my Plymouth Fury, automatically feeling bad for doing so, the motor having been my pride and joy for the best part of a decade, having fallen in love with it on first sight thanks to the horror movie Christine.

I let out a yawn, my fingers rubbing my eyes, feeling like I've been driving for a week instead of a few hours. And I still have a few hours driving left until I arrive back in Bon Temps. My slightly weary eyes land on what looks like a bar a little way down the road I'm currently driving on, feeling the sudden need for some liquid courage and possibly a room for the night, knowing full well I'd never reach Bon Temps on practically zero sleep.

I pull my car over to the opposite side of the road, killing the engine then getting out, shutting the door and locking it, my fingers brushing back some of my blue and green locks that have ended up in my eyes. From the outside, the bar looks pretty rundown, nothing like the bars in the French Quarter in New Orleans or like Merlotte's back home. But right now, i really couldn't care less needing a good few shots of whisky in my belly, walking across the road and walking inside, never imagining that I'd remember this one night as the most important night of my life.