A/N: Hey everybody! I really need to do more writing on AM, but this one has just been calling me, so you're getting another chapter already. Thanks so much to ilovemysteries for the super quick turnaround, as always. She rocks. We will still have 3 AM updates this week, but maybe only 2 next if I don't get my ass in gear.

Chapter 9

September 1991

Eric really hated this. Sookie hadn't spoken to him since the party, and that was over a month ago. Jason was his best friend, the one he hung out with and laughed with and horsed around with and worked out with and talked about girls and sex and football and cars with. But Sookie was the one he talked to about life, about his parents, about books and history and Sweden. About his plans and hopes and dreams. She was the one that gave good, thoughtful advice, and who did nice things for you when you needed cheering up. Fuck, he needed that right now.

She was only 13 and in eighth grade, and he'd be 17 pretty soon, and was already a junior. He could have pretty much any girl he wanted, and had. Yeah, Sookie was hot. Really hot. With an amazing body and great hair, and a gorgeous smile and already had what were probably the best tits in town. And he was the only one in town to have touched them. At least with her consent. And yes, she was at least as mature as any kid in his class. And was so much more interesting and could hold an actual conversation about important issues. And, ok, she was sweet, and thoughtful, and kind, and wonderful, and funny, and smart…

This really wasn't helping.

Neither was the jerk off record he seemed determined to beat lately. Pardon the pun. And why did his mind always seem to go to the damn near innocent kiss in the shed (before the shit show), instead of to the many actual fucks and blow jobs he'd thoroughly enjoyed.

When he thought about it, he always concentrated on the age difference. And yeah, it was a big deal. I mean, he was one of the most popular guys in school. And she wasn't even in high school yet!

But, deep down, he knew it was a cop out. Yes, it was a problem; having sex with her would be a misdemeanor now, and a felony in a few months when he turned 17. But, in a small rural town like Bon Temps where the selection was limited? Pretty much everyone did it. There was more shopping around. It was just kind of how it was. There were lots of seniors who dated freshmen. And that's where they would be in a few months. And, as batshit as it sounded, he thought he might even be willing to wait a while. They could just fool around a little without having sex until she was old enough.

But anyway, that wasn't what had made everything go all to hell.

No, the real problem was what a huge shit he was. No excuses. No rationalizations. Just the truth. He was a weak fuck who cared more about what people thought of him than about her feelings. But it was so much worse than that. He knew how hard her life was. He knew how much it sucked for her to be telepathic. He knew the terrible things people said to her, how they treated her, how they felt about her. And he became one of them instead of standing up for her and protecting her. When he saw her mother hurt her when she was so small, he swore that he would always stick up for her. Instead, he was more concerned about what those abusive assholes thought of him than about her. And not only did he fail to protect her, he hurt her so much worse than just about anyone ever had.

Would he be able to say fuck it, and proudly go out with a telepathic middle schooler, who was a social pariah that everybody thought was either insane or mentally retarded? He wanted to say yes. But the knot in his stomach and the feeling of guilt and shame made him doubt it. Why did he have to give a shit? How could he stop?

He had tried to apologize. Over and over again. She hadn't even acknowledged his existence since the party. The Stackhouses were his family, the only one that really meant anything to him since his mother died, and he felt like a part of him was missing. He missed her so much.

She almost seemed to have reverted back to that little girl with the haunted eyes, looking over her mother's shoulder at him. That image had been burned into his brain.

She had withdrawn from everyone, not just him. He could tell Mrs. Stackhouse was very worried. Jason was oblivious, and only really noticed when Sookie stopped picking up his slack. Or, more accurately, replace noticed with cared. But Jason was a selfish dick.

She had been so quick and sassy and confident. Not inherently, not about a lot of things. But she almost always had a smartass comment for him, and had no problem swatting him or telling him to go to hell or making a joke at his expense. She had a quick wry humour that just killed him. And she had been letting people touch her, and initiating touch. Hell she had run her fingers through his hair and practically stuck her tongue down his throat.

Fuck, he wanted her to do it again.

There had been fire in her eyes in the shed, but it had been gone by the next night, and hadn't come back, as far as he could tell. She'd become a punching bag at school again. He'd seen the bruises and the way she flinched if someone moved too quickly when she was nearby. She barely spoke or ate. She'd lost weight. What in the hell had he done to her?

He decided he would make her talk to him. Or at least make her listen to his apology and at least acknowledge it, if she wouldn't forgive him.

Sookie got off the bus. She trudged up the driveway, dropped her backpack on the front porch and went straight to the cemetery and sat leaning against her parents' gravestone. She needed to be alone. School was awful. She couldn't concentrate at all anymore, so she couldn't block any thoughts out. It was worse even than when she was little. From the time she got on the bus every morning until she got off in the afternoon, it was a constant wall of noise. Her head pounded constantly. She couldn't hear the teachers, or her brain couldn't focus enough to make sense of them, so she hadn't done any schoolwork so far this year at all. The bell was loud enough to hear over the roar in her head, so she mindlessly moved from class to class, just sitting at her desk in between. The teachers had stopped calling on her back in kindergarten, pretty much, so she was mostly left alone from them. But not the kids. Teenagers are like sharks; they scent when there's blood in the water. She no longer reacted at all when they said nasty things or called her names; she generally didn't even hear it. Some had stopped, but others escalated. She had been tripped and pushed and shoved at first, and now the worst offenders had moved onto hitting and punching, or grabbing her boobs and butt.

She would give anything to just be normal. To know that someday she could find happiness and love, and not have to spend the rest of her life alone. But that dream had crashed and burned the night of the party.

She knew she was grieving. She remembered how it felt, recognized it, but this felt so much worse. And that made her feel so very guilty. Surely it was terribly selfish to grieve more for the loss of the future she so desperately wanted than for her own parents.

She supposed she needed to talk to Eric and Gran. They had been hovering for weeks, but Sookie just hadn't been able to talk about any of it. Or anything else, really. Other than the occasional necessary communication, she just didn't say anything. She couldn't, really. Her throat would close up and she started to cry if she even thought of saying something even slightly personal.

Sookie heard Eric coming in her head before she heard his footsteps rustling the old fallen leaves. She guessed she was going to have to do this now. Shit. Her throat already had a lump in it. She hoped she could keep it together.

"Sookie, please let me apologize. Please."

"You already have." It was barely above a whisper, but it was something.

"Yeah, but…"

"I forgive you, Eric. I did a long time ago. It's fine. Whatever." She seemed to be staring at the grass.

"It obviously isn't fine."

She sighed, but didn't say anything else.

"I hate that I hurt you."

She shrugged. This was not going as he'd hoped at all. "Sookie, please look at me."

The frown lines appeared between her eyebrows. She shook her head once.

He was getting exasperated. "Sookie, dammit, talk to me!"

"What do you want me to say?" Finally, a flash of anger. It had to be better than the soul-crushing sadness, right?

"I want you to tell me what a jerk I am. I want you to punch me and scream at me and get out all of your anger at me, and tell me how I can make it better."

"You can't, Eric. Nobody can."

She glanced up at him. Eric looked confused. She sighed, and looked back down. "Yeah, what you thought hurt me. A lot. I can't lie about that. It was the one thing I was most scared to hear. And I was mad for a few minutes. But…" God, how in the hell was she going to say this? She blew out a big lungful of air to try to ease some of the tightness in her chest. "All I've ever wanted is to have a normal life. I don't think I'd ever want to risk giving this curse to anyone else, so maybe not kids, but love. A family. Happiness. But I hear the worst of everyone. Every ugly thought. Deep dark secrets nobody should ever know. Plus every terrible thing that everyone thinks about me. And the stupid, petty, and dirty ones, too. Touch makes it so much worse. I thought it was impossible. That I would have no choice but to always be the weird crazy girl who was always alone. That, as miserable as I was, there was no hope that it would ever get better, because it never had.

"Then you came along. Not only were you kind and polite and the cutest boy I'd ever seen, you treated me like a human being. And, on top of all that, all of your thoughts were in Swedish, and I couldn't understand one thing. I could hold your hand or give you a hug, and it didn't hurt me at all. I thought that maybe I could have a normal life, if I could spend it with someone like you. And I pinned all of my hopes and dreams on it.

"But, of course, it was all a lie. I was fooling myself all along. I thought that if I believed I could be normal, it would actually make me normal. I thought that if I couldn't read your thoughts when you were 11, it would stay that way forever. I thought that if I didn't know your thoughts, they could never hurt me.

"I'm not mad at you, Eric. I kind of wish I'd never met you. If I hadn't, I wouldn't know what I'd lost. But I'm not mad."

She never once looked up, so she didn't see the tears in his eyes. "Sookie…"

"Please leave, Eric. I had a really bad day and I need to be alone. Please just go."

He didn't say another word, but he left her be and walked back to the house. He sat on the porch swing and put his head in his hands, with his elbows resting on his knees. Adele came out and sat next to him, handing him a glass of lemonade.

"Is anyone ever going to tell me what happened when I was in Houston?"

Eric chuckled wryly, and then sighed. "No, I can't imagine you'll ever get the whole story. But the gist of it is that Hadley convinced Sookie that I liked her. She set it up so that we would be alone together. I kissed her, but I'm a huge jerk and she heard something in my head that hurt her very badly. I have apologized a million times, but…" He shrugged with one shoulder, and then finally met her eyes. "I'll understand if you want me to leave, Mrs. Stackhouse."

"Dare I ask what she overheard?"

He looked down again. "That I hoped nobody would find out."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah."

"And why did you kiss her? You know how she feels about you. You know how old she is."

He met her eyes again. "Because she's amazing."

"Eric, she's too young."

"I know."

She smiled at him sadly. "I don't want you to leave, Eric. Thank you for telling me, and for being honest. Sometimes you just can't help what you think in the moment, and I can tell how sorry you are. But I hope you think long and hard about your priorities."

"Believe me, Mrs. Stackhouse, I have. I haven't thought about much else since."

"She'll forgive you eventually, Eric. She can't seem to hold a grudge. I suppose, if she did, she'd run out of people awfully quick."

"She said that she has forgiven me."

"She talked to you?"

"Yeah. She said a lot actually. I ruined her life. I've crushed her hopes and dreams. She only liked me because she couldn't understand my thoughts, but now she can. She wishes she had never met me."

Adele snorted. "And now I guess it's your turn to feel sorry for yourself."

He looked up at her angrily, but then deflated when he saw the softness in her eyes, despite the grin that bordered on sardonic. "You know very well she likes you for more than that, Eric."

He sighed. "I know."

"Well, I'm glad that she got it off her chest, anyhow. I don't know what I'm going to do if she doesn't turn around soon. Are you staying for supper?"

"Yes, please."

"You're a good boy, Eric, and we all love you very much. You're always welcome in my house." She patted his knee, got up, and went inside.

He drank his lemonade, rinsed out the glass inside in the kitchen sink, and went up to Jason's room to hang out. He resolved to try to start thinking in Swedish again.