Chapter 5

2002

SPOV

I'm not proud to admit it, but the second I detected that crazy ass bitch's black hole of a mind at my door, I freaked. It never even crossed my mind that my daddy would be with her. The only thing I thought about was keeping me and Gran alive. So I called the only person I knew who might have a handle on how to deal with vampires; Sam Merlotte.

Everyone always said I was a difficult baby. That all I ever did was cry and scream. From what Jason told me, I would always put my hands on my head and say, "ouch". The thoughts of everyone around me bombarding my brain physically hurt, and it only got worse when I started school. As children all around the world instinctively do when they've been hurt, I told my momma. Not knowing any different, I'd thought everyone had my disability. Picture me surprised when Michelle called me a liar, said I made it all up for my daddy's attention. I stopped asking for help after that but when my crying wouldn't let up, and daddy started asking questions, she brought me to all sorts of doctors who put me on all kinds of medications. That didn't work as well as she'd hoped. The medicine kept me drugged up enough that my brain, and everyone's thoughts, were pretty much just mush. Kind of like being underwater and hearing people talk, only the voices were filtered through some sort of recorder that played things back in slow motion, so it wasn't too bad. Night time was a whole 'nother story. It was like my brain must've finally made sense of all the thoughts and secrets that people were too ashamed or afraid of to say out loud, because the nightmares I had were something awful. Daddy finally had enough and asked Michelle what was really going on since I was too scared to tell him myself. That was the first time I ever saw my daddy cuss out my momma. The next day, soon as he left for work, she bought herself a bottle of Old Crow and drank herself into a drunken stupor she didn't come out of until she almost got me and Jason killed driving drunk as a skunk two weeks later.

Daddy had her bags packed and out on the porch the day she got home from the hospital.

For the first time in my life, I was happy. And it lasted two blissful, carefree years. Instead of going to a school full of hyperactive kids whose thoughts were as loud as they were busy, daddy dropped me off at my kindhearted, tranquil grandmother's house where the only neighbor she had was a quiet old man on the other side of the cemetery. Gran homeschooled me and I learned more on that first day than an entire month at school. On Wednesday nights, since there weren't a lot of people out and about, daddy would drop Jason off with Gran and drive us out to the city where we'd play games guessing what people were thinking. It was exhausting those first couple of months, and I damn near lost my mind listening to all those thoughts but slowly, I began learning how to keep them in the background. Instead of dozens of voices shouting at me, they became a constant buzz; kind of like reading a book with the television on. After I got a handle on that, daddy began asking me to listen to one specific person at a time. I learned how to partition and shield thoughts on one of those Wednesdays and I also heard my first snarly mind. It wasn't until Sam Merlotte came to town and opened his restaurant that I found another one.

After daddy "died", Michelle came back to live with us. Gran put up a hell of a fight, but the judge said she was only our grandmother. I guess no one ever bothered telling him that an abusive drunk wasn't much of a mother. Michelle punished Gran by not letting us see her but we found ways around it. The only good that came out of it was Uncle Bartlett becoming persona non grata as well.

Growing up, between keeping tabs on Michelle during the day and making sure Pamela wasn't lurking in the shadows at night, I pretty much never stopped listening to my surroundings. Most of the time, I didn't even bother making sense of what people were thinking. But sometimes, like after I found a collie with the same snarly brain pattern as Sam Merlotte's in the woods around Gran's, I paid attention. I paid attention each and every time I went to work at his bar. I paid attention to each nasty thought he had about my body. And, I paid particular attention to how his brain became almost angry in their snarls right before a full moon which, funny enough, he never worked during. See, after watching the man who was your world get sucked dry and taken away by a beautiful monster, and getting beaten so badly you needed screws put into your body by the one person little girls were supposed to trust the most in the world, you learn damn well and early the only person you can really trust is yourself.

Sam was surprisingly helpful. He said vampires could only enter a home when invited and that invitations could, and should, be rescinded once they left. He also said silver hurt the bejesus out of them and that sunlight, a stake (which could be yours for an affordable $4.99 at Walmart) through the heart, and beheading were sure fire ways to kill them for good. He also mentioned calling some sort of vampire sheriff, but honest to goodness, I couldn't remember what was said after that because I looked up and saw the man who was my entire world, staring right back at me through the kitchen window.

"Well, what are ya waiting for, boy? Get in here and give your momma a hug!"

My daddy threw his arms around Gran and lifted her off her feet, all the while peppering her tear streaked cheeks with kisses. When he finally cleared the doorway to come give me a hug, the physical manifestation of my childhood nightmares was staring right at me.

Without thinking, I grabbed the broom, broke off its handle, and leapt for the bitch who destroyed my life.

An arm wrapped around my stomach and daddy's soothing voice crooned, "Shh.. Easy, baby girl. Everything's alright now. Daddy's here now and I ain't ever leaving you again."

It wasn't until then that I realized I was screaming, shaking, and crying hysterically.

Gran stared the vampire, whose merciless act all those years ago ripped our family apart, right in the eyes and said, "Won't you please come in."

I felt betrayed. I felt wronged. I felt like my world was turned on its head. And I knew, just knew, that if I could just kill her, then everything would be fine again. But my daddy kept a vise like grip on me and I wasn't going anywhere he didn't want me to.

She had the galls to appear contrite as she slowly crossed the doorway and entered my home, my sanctuary, my shelter from the nightmare that was my childhood. "I'm sorry for-"

"Killing my father? Throwing us over the bridge? Being the reason why my mother beat the shit out of me and, and, touched my brother?" I heard a gasp at this, but too angry to care about who I was hurting, I dredged on. "Because sorry doesn't fucking cut it when you've singlehandedly destroyed the lives of everyone I've ever loved. Sorry doesn't fucking make up for seven years of eating, walking, sleeping, and breathing in pain. It doesn't make up for a man who will never know a lover's touch without remembering his own fucking mother doing the same. It won't make up for the countless number of nights my grandmother stayed up waiting for my, or my brother's, phone call telling her we were alright before she'd let herself sleep. And it sure as shit won't make up for the years we lost with our daddy and son. So fuck you and your fucking sorry. You can shove it in the hole your cold undead heart was supposed to be and get the fuck out of my life."

I don't know what I expected to happen but it definitely wasn't Gran leading Pamela, by the hand, to a chair and wiping the bloody tears off of her face with a dish towel. Sometimes, I swear, that woman was too tenderhearted for her own good.

"Corbett, let go of Sookie and come sit next to your friend here. Sookie's going to wash her face and come back when she's ready to greet her daddy, and his guest, like the proper Southern woman I raised her to be." Gran said, while pouring four glasses of sweet tea. I knew she heard Flora say that blood was her only diet, so she was more shaken than she let on.

Too afraid to see my daddy's reaction, and too ashamed of being such a careless and hurtful shit, I walked quickly to the bathroom with my head down, and locked myself behind the door. I plugged the sink and turned on the cold water, belatedly realizing my body was shaking. The second the sink was filled, I dunked my face in and screamed. I screamed for the childhood Jason and I lost. I screamed for my grandmother who buried the empty coffins of both her children; one because his body was never found, and the other because she felt so imprisoned in her dying, cancer stricken body that she asked for her ashes to be scattered so that she'd finally be free. After I was done, I counted to sixty and allowed myself exactly one minute to grieve. I pulled the topper, fixed my ponytail, and headed back to the kitchen.

I sat in the only unoccupied chair and reached for a glass of sweet tea. I felt several pairs of eyes on me but I ignored them and focused on gulping down my drink.

When I was finally done with my glass, Gran pointed at Pamela and ordered, "Start talking."

A/N: I'm sorry I ended it on a cliffie but I was just so emotionally drained by that point that I really didn't have it in me to even think about how to fix the mess I wrote Pam into. The next chapter will continue in Sookie's POV but I have a feeling it'll be a short one.

I'd also like to apologize for not replying to everyone's reviews since chapter 3 (or was it 2?). I rarely have any free time, and whatever I do have I try to use to write. I'm sure you guys understand :)