A/N: Thank you to everyone for the positive reviews. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Chapter 3: Caged Bird
WITHOUT WARNING, the door to Sookie's room burst open with a shudder, awaking her from the first sound sleep she had had since her capture. Sookie bolted upright in bed, astonished by the sudden appearance of a buxom, square shouldered, handsome woman with a frenzy of red curls that stormed up to the side of the bed. Black, magpie eyes assessed Sookie with an aphotic intensity that made her squirm self-consciously. Thomas followed the woman into the room and he stood leaning against the white, marble fireplace, a bemused expression on his face. "Who are you?" Sookie demanded.
In the dim light, she could better see the woman's cold, pale skin and red-rimmed eyes. Another vampire! she thought, her stomach flipping involuntarily with dismay. She remembered when she thought vampires were exciting, but now she just wished they had never come out of the coffin. "I am Dr. Kozeta Petra, but you may say Dr. Koze. From you I want no trouble. I am here to drain blood for Russell. Keep quiet, cooperate, and we do OK," she said in clipped tones and a foreign accent Sookie could not place.
Her big, dark eyes regarded Sookie less as a person and more like a frog about to be dissected. Sookie watched with growing apprehension as she rummaged through a heavy black leather medical bag she'd thrown down on the bedside table. Her fingers were long and slim, tipped with bright red nails the shade of freshly spilled blood. "Your arm, give to me," the doctor demanded, holding out her hand expectantly. Sookie could see the needle and small plastic tube in Dr. Petra's other hand. "No!" she cried, pulling her arms tightly around herself and inching away toward the far side of the narrow bed.
Dr. Koze's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Give me arm or I tear off, teveqele. No arm won't be problem for Russell, right?" she said to Thomas as if Sookie wasn't even there. Thomas chuckled, the ugly intent in his eyes only slightly less frightening than the vampire doctor. "Well, what you decide?" she asked, tapping the heel of her black Loubiton pump impatiently. "Fuck you, bitch!" Sookie shouted.
The doctor smiled, wide and slow, and her eyes glinted with psychotic glee at the challenge. "What you think you say to me, ngaterrestare?" She moved instantly and soundlessly, grabbing the needle with one hand and Sookie's arm with the other. Sookie yelped in pain as the doctor hyperextended her arm amongst the billowy, rumpled covers. Fear and panic engulfed her mind and she flailed about, her movements swallowed by the feather mattress. The towel shook loose as she struggled, but she hardly noticed as her eyes focused on the needle advancing towards her bulging veins.
Without thinking, Sookie kicked out hard and watched the needle go flying from Dr. Koze's startled grasp. But she barely had time to flash a small grin of triumph before heavy hands seized her arms and Thomas's heavy body fell atop hers. His breath was hot and sour in her face, and she coughed sickly as she struggled to dislodge his weight. Her feeble attempts to free herself were all in vain. Sookie had the sense that he had been waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself. Reality faded into the background as the oppressive weight of his thoughts broke through her defenses.
In her mind's eye, she saw him take hold of her arms and haul her body up from under him. She saw herself helpless, eyes dulled by resignation, as he pinned her hands to the polished headboard. He bit her neck savagely, leaving the flesh red and burning as tears streamed unnoticed down her cheeks. Dirty fingernails dug into her breasts as his hands groped down her body. The beautiful, but bloodthirsty doctor watched from the side of the bed and ran the tip of her tongue over her fangs. Above her rouged cheeks, black, dead eyes lit only by a demonic fire delighted in Sookie's suffering, hungry for sex and blood.
Thomas moved his rough hands further down the length of her body as Sookie shuddered in revulsion. "No, please God, no," she could hear herself crying as his hands seized her thighs, pulling her legs open, so he could enter her from behind. Her cries only seemed to excite him as he grabbed a handful of her golden hair and pulled her head back. "Shut up," he growled, "or I'll let her have a go at you when I am done here."
Dr. Koze's garnet painted lips broke open in a toothy fanged grin at the prospect. And she laughed, a cackling sound that reminded Sookie of ravens arguing over road kill. A sickening feeling engulfed her as it dawned on her that she was no more than a pawn now. Her purpose in this new life consisted of being raped and drained, again and again, until nothing remained.
The mahogany grew slick under Sookie's sweaty palms as Thomas brutally thrust into her. She watched herself growing weaker under the onslaught until he finished, leaving her crumpled and devastated among the fine sheets. She pulled the cerulean comforter to her mouth to stifle the sobs wracking her body, and the blue was all she could see, all her mind would allow. A blue like spring, the color of the day where she would sprout wing, fly away, and be free.
His thoughts were like sludge in the back of her mouth, gray-brown and bitter.
Snap out of it! Remember who you are, she half-heard a voice cry from the back of her mind. In the momentary silence, the voice sounded like Claudine, and it was enough jolt her back to reality. "Get off of me!" Sookie shouted as she spit the putrid taste back into his face. The relentlessly determined cast of his features was instantly replaced by shock, and then anger. His eyes narrowed, darkening murderously and as cold fear overcame her senses, she knew that she had gone too far. "Cunt," he snarled at her through clenched teeth.
In the next moment, he drew his thick, rope-veined arm back and struck her flat across the cheek. The cracking sound of the blow reverberated in her mind like a shot in a cave. Her head lolled drunkenly as pain and shock washed over her. Thomas sat back on his heels, pleased with himself, and watched Sookie moan weakly, trying to curl into a ball, but finding her legs still trapped under his weight. A dazzling array of colors burst to life before her muddled gaze.
Sookie did not see the doctor remove a small clear bottle from her medicine bag and dampen a cloth with the contents. Suddenly, the doctor's pale, surprisingly strong hand clamped the cloth over her nose and mouth. The acrid fumes filled Sookie's nostrils. Her eyes opened wide for a moment as the faces before her blurred beyond recognition and reality slipped away.
…
Sookie tossed and turned, moaning softly, bound so tightly in a cocoon of covers she could not move her arms or feet. Her mind tumbled through a deep and dreamless sleep. Only the occasional faceless specter or disembodied voice was able to break through the fog, to rouse her slightly from oblivion. But she could not understand anything that was said and her soul continued to drift through an endless, nebulous darkness.
After several hours, Elizabeth returned, moving silently as a ghost in the dim light. She set down a new tray of food on the low ottoman, but the savory aroma of a hearty meat stew did nothing to rouse Sookie from her comatose state. Elizabeth unraveled the suffocating sheets and proceeded to strip the bed, rolling Sookie's leaden limbs out of the way as she worked.
From the hall, Elizabeth retrieved a shallow copper basin filled with warm, lavender-scented water and a soft cloth. Mutely and blindly, Elizabeth washed the sweat and grime away from Sookie's feverish skin. Sookie's hands and feet quivered and jerked as she muttered unintelligible strings of syllables into the stale, close air. Elizabeth looked long at Sookie, compassion filling her deep green eyes, but the haze that filled her mind kept her emotions far and distant.
In her glamoured state, melancholy notes plucked from an imaginary harp rose in vivid hues like dulcet butterflies before disintegrating into silence. It was an effective trick to keep her ordinarily keen mind docile, focused only on what needed to be done next to fulfill her duties. Her beauty and Russell's unrelenting desire to possess beautiful things had made her into a tongueless slave whose prospects for life rested in her ability to care for a prisoner far more precious to him than herself. Soon enough, Elizabeth finished her work and soundlessly exited the room, a slight frown pulling down the corners of her delicate mouth, leaving Sookie alone with only a rapidly cooling meal for comfort.
More time passed and Sookie continued to sleep like one already dead. But somewhere in that endless night, she felt a smooth, cool hand at her forehead, sensitive fingers running down her cheek, gentle like a whisper. It was night; she could hear the sonorous chirping of the cicadas in the trees outside her paneled windows. "Bill," she murmured softly, her head foggy and aching from the effects of the ether. With eyes closed, she clasped his large, bloodless hand between her two small, tanned ones, softly kissing his fingers, intoxicated by relief and gratitude.
"It's been so awful, Bill. You don't know. I dreamed I was locked up and held prisoner by Russell. I tried to find you, but you were gone. Erik told me you were dead. I didn't want to believe him. I knew you would come for me," she babbled, smiling. "I will always come for you," replied a low, warm voice. Sookie's eyelids flew open in shock and, dropping his hand, she bolted upright in bed. The sudden movement made her dizzy and her head lolled drunkenly as she met Russell's eyes.
He stood by the bed, dressed all in black, arms folded casually across his chest, as he regarded her thoughtfully. Her sweat-soaked mane of golden blonde hair hung in lank, lavender-scented ropes around her face. A large, mottled yellow and purple bruise bloomed on her swollen cheek. The sunny radiance she possessed had retreated behind dark-rimmed, sunken eyes, and skin grown sallow and ruddy from a lack of sunlight and nutrition. "You should eat more, my dear," he said, indicating the cold food with a slight nod of his head.
His words jarred her back to reality and, as his gaze drifted down to where her exposed breasts rose and fell enticingly as her breath came in short, ragged gasps, she realized that she was naked and staring. Quickly, she pulled the sheet around herself and her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. "What do you care?" she asked. She fell back into the bed, not caring what he might answer, just so long as she could return to the relative safety of sleep.
Closing her eyes, she cursed herself, her luck, and the day she was born. She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide the tears that slipped unbidden from the corners of her eyes. A small, ironic smile lit his face as he took a seat in one of chairs by the fireplace. It pleased him that she found her situation unbearable. It was no more than she deserved. "Don't be like that, pumpkin. It hurts me that you think that I don't care. Look, I even brought you a gift," he replied.
She lifted her head, her wan cheeks moist with tears, and saw a scarlet-jacketed book on the low, cabriole-legged coffee table in front of him. "I don't want it. All I want from you is my freedom," she spat back at him, her voice ragged with emotion. Russell crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands over his knee, unfazed by her displeasure. A book? Why on earth would he bring me a book? she wondered, confounded. It was the last thing she would have expected and the very randomness of the gesture further disquieted her thinking.
The cold, empty hearth behind him yawned open like the maw of some great beast. If she looked too long, she could feel a riptide open, pulling her towards a vortex of swirling blackness. She had had a glimpse of that place before, a place with no hope of salvation. He looks like the devil waiting to welcome me to hell, she thought as she took in his long-sleeved cashmere shirt and black slacks, belted neatly at the waist. His hazel eyes were intent upon her as he half-hid an impish grin behind his hand. "Put it out of your mind, sweetheart. It will never happen. I went to far too much trouble to capture you to ever consider letting you go. You are mine now," he said with an air of calm certainty.
Sookie's mouth went dry as she listened to him calmly explain the nature of her doomed existence. She shivered as she became aware again of her vulnerability; dirty, naked, with only a thin layer of Egyptian cotton between her and the eyes that drank her in like she was a rare vintage of wine. "You are wrong. I'll find a way to escape. I'd rather die than stay here," she said, finding some of her old spark and fury.
"Perhaps so, but you won't die. You will live and I will have what I want from you," he replied, the cold words heated only slightly by the warm cadence of his voice. Sookie blanched and suddenly she felt very small, like a figurine trapped in a music box. "You are wrong. Erik will rescue me. He loves me," Sookie croaked. It was her last, most desperate hope in the face of overwhelming despair. She knew it was foolish to reveal herself to him in such a way, and regret followed narrowly on the heels of her unthinking blunder.
Russell stood up and gave her a pitying look. "I hate to be the one who keeps bringing you bad news, my dear, but Erik is dead. I killed him, so I wouldn't bother holding your breath, waiting for a rescue that is never going to come. All that is left of him now is this," he said as he pulled a thin, gold chain from beneath his collar. A long, ivory fang hung suspended between the ends as he pulled it over his head and tossed it to the bed.
He rolled his eyes at her, exasperated by his own desire to want to appease her. "Did you honestly think I would allow him to live after everything that has happened?" he chuckled to himself, seemingly amazed at her unremitting stupidity. "There, now don't say I never did anything for you. That happens to be one of my favorite trophies."
His smug demeanor was belied only by the intensity of his gaze. Inwardly, she could feel herself shrinking away. She didn't want to see the hot desire in his eyes or think about where it would eventually lead. He was the executioner, calmly explaining her fate with softly rounded words as she laid her head below the guillotine's blade.
Sookie snatched the chain up and clasped it to her breast. "Erik!" she cried, horrified by his cruelty. She rocked herself back and forth, clutching her prize; it was all that was left of her life that was. Russell had no interest in watching her heartbreak unfold anew, but he paused briefly before leaving her alone. "Read the book, my dear. The past is gone. Try to make some peace with your new life before despair drives you mad."
With a wry smile, he blew her a kiss before opening the door. She watched in a stunned, emotionally blank way as he disappeared down the corridor. Thomas poked his head in quickly, refusing to meet her eyes as he satisfied his curiosity, making her feel even less like a person and more like the star of a circus sideshow. He didn't try to drain me. Why not? Why else would I be here? she thought, astounded. The questions bothered her, lending a further sense of uncertainty, but somewhere inside she knew that he would be back.
The shattered remains of what had stood for hope only a few minutes before weighed heavily upon her soul. Suddenly, she felt very weak. It was too much to think, to have to continue to breathe the stale, fetid air, in and out. She curled up among the pillows, pulling the covers over her head, laying a kiss on the fang she held to her mouth as she cried herself to sleep.
But sleep would not come, so she lay awake listening to the thoughts bounce untethered around her mind like playing pinball on acid. More than once, she pulled a pillow over her head trying to smother the endless procession of unformed fears and specific regrets that plagued her. But any action she took only amplified the voices and the hot, wet smell of her breath as she breathed into the thick cotton brought her close to gagging.
Russell is right, there is no reason to hope, she thought, hoping in her mad state that acceptance might bring some peace, but it only reinforced her wretched anguish. Sometimes, as the hours dragged on, she caught herself wishing that he would just come back, drain her dry, allow her to find some peace, if only in death. Her cheek hurt and she could not bring herself to eat. Misery covered her like a blanket spun from sorrow and torment.
In the gloom, there was no way to mark the passage of time. She lay in bed, gazing blankly up at the crocheted coverlet laid atop the open canopy. If she stared long enough, she could almost lose herself among the delicate swirls, the time it took to form the precise loops. Sometimes, she could see her grandmother, head bent, rocking back and forth in her chair, the long hooks clicking as her hands moved with practiced ease.
She imagined that it was her grandmother who had made the coverlet and her heart ached for all the love she had lost. It was easy to slip into the fantasy. The room was a recently renovated addition to her family home. If she listened hard enough, she could almost hear Gran and Jason's voices cheerfully discussing the day's events. She tried to project herself to that place, but her presence was momentary, disembodied, and held apart. It was a small way to keep her memories of home alive.
Her stomach burned with hunger, clenching and tightening, keeping her from sleep. At one point, she convinced herself to eat, to fight back and not be content to lie down and die. But the stew had long since grown cold and an unappetizing thin layer of orange fat had congealed on the top. Undaunted, Sookie spooned the food into her mouth. The broth, which had smelled so tantalizing and rich, turned bitter and vile on her tongue. The hunks of meat and vegetables were rubbery, tasteless, and slid down her dry throat like lumps of coal. She could feel her body attacking itself, breaking down what was not necessary, to try and provide enough nourishment for her survival.
A searing headache ravaged her mind, blocking any feelings of remembered happiness like a wall of fire she could not cross. If only Bill had never come to Merlotte's, if only he'd never come to Bon Temps, then none of this ever would have happened, she thought, coming back to the thought over and over again. She could not release the idea that somehow there must have been something that she could have done differently.
But she could not bring herself to regret her love for Bill or for Erik. With them she had known the happiest, most exciting moments of her life, even in the face of the overwhelming obstacles they had faced. Where did I go wrong? The question haunted her, breaking in like an unwanted guest, falsely promising some measure of peace if she could only pinpoint the exact moment of her fall. But the answer eluded her even as she went over every detail of her adventures in her mind.
She remembered a time when her dearest wish had been relief from the constant imposition of other people's private thoughts. Now, all alone, her dark wish granted, she could not find the strength to silence her own demons. She rolled over and a lank, oily cord of hair fell across her face. Everything around her was beginning to smell like decay. In the dank, stifling humidity, a constant sheen of sweat wet her skin causing it to gray and puff. Cleanliness had been a constantly reinforced virtue since the time she was young, but she could not summon the will to drag herself to the tub.
As much as she was revolted by the changes coming over her, she questioned the purpose in trying to reverse them. She was beginning to resent her own company, but some small voice whispered that maybe Russell would not want her anymore if she just gave herself over to corruption and melancholy. Perhaps, in time, the madness within her reasoned, the foulness would so permeate her being that even her blood might lose its decadent, sweet allure. She smiled slightly, delighted by her wicked plan to beat Russell at his own game and, closing her eyes, she found a short respite from her sadness.
...
The door to her room burst open with a rude abruptness that Sookie was coming to accept as normal. Dr. Koze strode in with an air of unchallenged purpose and pure conceit while Thomas trailed her as she rounded the bed. She was clad in a soft pink tweed pencil skirt with a slight flounce at the hem and a mother-of-pearl silk blouse that made Sookie all the more aware of her own abject state. Thomas coughed hard, "It stinks in here," he said. Sookie flushed with embarrassment, pretending to be asleep. "Yes, it does," Dr. Koze agreed, wrinkling her straight lined Greek nose in disgust.
"Wake up," Dr. Koze demanded. Sookie lay unmoving, not caring to see the doctor's sour expression or Thomas's pitiless gaze. "I said wake up," she repeated, dropping her black medical bag to the floor with a thud. Sookie rolled over, her half-lidded eyes crusty with old tears and barely concealed loathing. "Thomas, go make for her a bath while I work," Dr. Koze instructed. Thomas nodded and dutifully disappeared into the bathroom.
Alone, Dr. Koze grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it away, exposing Sookie's thin, naked frame. She regarded Sookie with her cold surgeon's eyes, taking in her pallor, the bruise that covered half her face, the itchy, red puncture wounds on her thigh where Russell had bitten her. "What do you want?" Sookie asked despondently, not really caring to hear the answer. "What I want, budallacke? Silly question from silly girl. I want for you to live. Why else I here? You die and Russell blames me. Not going to happen. You feel sorry for self. You not know suffering. You no eat, I see. Keep it up. I bring in feeding tube, then you eat," she said, indicating the cold stew and its broken lily pad of orange fat with a wave of her hand. "I can't," Sookie protested, "I would rather die than continue on this way."
Sookie had never felt so pathetic and vulnerable. Her strength lay wasted in an abyss of bad memories that left her without the will to try to cover herself from the doctor's prying eyes. Who cares what they see? There's no one left to protect me from these monsters. The sooner they get it over with, the better, Sookie thought, her mind turning foreign and dark. She was becoming a stranger to herself, someone who she would not want to meet, someone who was lost to everything that was ever good in her life.
As if the doctor could read her thoughts from the deep frown that pulled down the corners of her mouth, she said, "Listen, what I say you. You suffer, we all suffer. You think you special? You think is free? Nothing free. Death always hunt you. You were given too much, now you cry. You no want to pay price. Too bad, is how things are. Is how things always are. Some, not lucky like you, want be vampires, want be special. But then is the thirst, wretched, never ending. You see? The past is dead. Don't ask meaning, just live. " Sookie digested the words as she had been unable to digest the food she was given. She wanted to cry more, explain that she had no one else to talk to.
The doctor busied herself with her preparations while Sookie stared up at the spiral posters of her bed, the coverlet with its web of woven snowflakes. The doctor's words left no room for her own thoughts. There was truth in them that she did not want to hear. "Give me arm. You not such good girl. You not fool me. Save tears for someone else, " Dr. Koze said, holding out her long fingered, red-taloned hand expectantly. Sookie lay unmoving, she felt drained of the will to fight, and all she had left was passive resistance.
Unfazed, the doctor grabbed her bony wrist and plunged the needle into Sookie's arm with cruel efficiency. Sookie winced at the sudden pain, biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out. "Your life not so bad as you think," the doctor said with a flourish of her hand, as if emptiness could be remedied with luxury, in the same way sickness was dosed with medicine. Incredulous, Sookie turned her head back to face the doctor, her sunken brown doe eyes brimming with hatred. "Not so bad, you evil bitch, not so bad! I am a prisoner. I have lost my whole family. Everyone I ever loved is gone. Fuck you for telling me it's not so bad!" Sookie spat defiantly.
She did not want to hear anymore about how her pain was not real or how she did not have a right to it. The doctor smiled small, her raven eyes focused on the thin stream of blood beginning to fill the small plastic bag, its contents more precious than gold. Thomas snickered from where he leaned against the mantle, hidden by the shadows. Sookie's cheeks flamed red, she'd forgotten all about him, but once remembered, she could feel his eyes hot and hungry on her emaciated frame.
Please God, please just let this be over,she prayed. "The Romans have saying, femije tekanjoze. You live through anything. What is too much pain, you no feel, you no more live," Dr. Koze huffed as she applied a cool ointment to Sookie's bite wounds. "Shut the fuck up," Sookie replied angrily, not at all comforted. "Watch your mouth," Thomas's silhouette growled menacingly.
When the bag was almost full, Dr. Koze signaled for Thomas to approach the bed. "Take her to bath," she instructed as she slid the needle from Sookie's arm. Sookie felt Thomas's strong, thickly corded arms slip beneath her, gathering her to his chest. He smelled clean and warm with hints of clove and mint. In spite of herself, she nestled into the heat radiating from him. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and pretended that he was Alcide bearing her away to safety.
Thomas carried her into the bathroom and held her for a long moment above the steaming tub. She could feel his fingers pressing into the tender flesh of her breast. Let him have his cheap thrill, she thought, disgusted with herself. Resentment and resignation dueled quietly within her as the reality that her body was no longer just her own was further reinforced.
Thomas smiled down at her, a broad lop-sided grin she might have found attractive in another life; that is, until he dumped her unceremoniously into the tub. Water cascaded up with the impact, soaking Thomas and creating small puddles on the cool tile. She fell, limp and heavy, a breath of life lighter than a cadaver, into the blistering water.
Sookie yelped as her tailbone hit the unforgiving base of porcelain and her skin flushed crimson. "Clean up," Thomas demanded, his dark eyes lit with wicked delight. He flung a washcloth into the tub with her as she sputtered and floundered, trying to find her composure. Without another word, he left her and she listened intently, trying unsuccessfully to hear the muted words that passed between him and the doctor as they exited the room.
Sookie sat unmoving for a long time, letting the heat seep in and soothe her tensions, even as a large bruise blossomed on her lower back. It was just another ugly reminder of her uncared for, humiliated state. She was grateful she could not see it, grateful that the heat, hunger, and pain blocked out the incessantly negative ramblings in her head. Time passed, the water began to cool, and Sookie finally found the motivation to do as she had been told. But it angered her; even her plan to defile her own beauty and make herself distasteful to her captors had been thwarted. With each pass of the washcloth over her long, tan limbs, she felt more complicit in her own powerlessness.
The soft sound of the door to the outer bedroom creaking against its hinges broke her tortured reverie. She listened to the muffled sounds of light footsteps, sheets being removed and replaced. Elizabeth, she thought as the mild, melancholy notes of a harp invaded and supplanted her own thoughts. Sookie did not want to see her maid, but she could not help feeling like a child hiding, silent and sullen, in the rapidly cooling water.
Soon enough, Elizabeth finished her work and Sookie's stomach churned uncomfortably from the aromas of a fresh tray of food. When she heard the door scrape closed, Sookie rose from the tub, washed, and set to dry the underwear that she had finally found the energy to clean. Only then did she return to her lonely bedroom.
She tiptoed to the bed, padding silently over the ivory rug, and inspected the latest offering. What the hell am I doing? It's not like they don't know I'm in here, she scolded herself, but she could not imagine having to confront anyone else. She looked down at the tray. Ham and eggs with a bowl of strawberries, coffee, a multivitamin tablet. Her body ached for nourishment, but she could feel her throat constricting, rebelling against the idea of eating.
She shivered, suddenly feeling very tired. Maybe I can sleep for a while, eat when I get back up, she lied to herself, knowing full well that if she could not manage to eat when the food was fresh, she would not come back to it later. As she stood alone and naked in the stillness, it occurred to her that she was being presented with a choice.
In times past, it would have been a thing of small consequence, not even worth thinking about, but her choices had become few and grave in nature. Her mouth went dry realizing that she could spend all day frozen in indecision and no one would stop her.
The longer she stood, the more grotesque a proposition it seemed to become. A vision of Dr. Koze passing a small silicone tube through her nostrils, down her esophagus to her stomach came upon her then. She imagined the doctor having a discussion with Russell about how she was failing to thrive, how there was no other choice to keep her alive. Sookie felt dismal, like she was little more than ash and blood. She knelt down before the tray, knowing there really was no choice, just the freedom to decide between the lesser of two evils. It was work to eat, the food turned to cardboard on the tines of the gold fork, flat and flavorless.
Sookie could not bring herself to eat more than half her meal, but felt pleased that she had staved off the feeding tube for a little while longer. How long can I keep this up? she wondered dully. If someone had told her months before that eating would become a misery, a job that utterly wiped her out and made her feel ill, she would never have believed them. Now, she knelt like a supplicant before the tray. It was a symbol of her own ruin, her desire to quit life altogether.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she rose on quaking legs to crawl back into the carved canopy bed. She pulled the comforter over her head as her thoughts drifted to how the blue reminded her of the pure color of a new morning sky. Will I ever see the sun again?she wondered as sleep came to her on silent feet, bearing the pain briefly away.
To be continued…