It's About Power
Chapter 11
Bill stood over me, his hands around my throat. We'd been in this situation before. Bill would squeeze off my air supply. I could watch his cock grow with wide eyes. I'd struggle and squirm and that would only make him want me more. The fact that he wanted me made me want him. It was an exercise in fear and desire, the two emotions coupled together in some sort of strange erotic interplay. It haunted me now. I woke up panting, as though I was still struggling to breathe. My head was pounding from lack of oxygen, and the knocking on the front door didn't help.
I got up slowly and uneasily off the sofa where I had fallen asleep after work. My black tennis shoes brushed against the hardwood floor because I had trouble lifting my feet when I walked. I opened the door without thinking, but then again, we didn't have a peep hole. I thought about getting one installed when I saw who was standing on the doorstep. Bill Compton looked neat and pristine. His jaw was tight and set, and his hands were pressed against his sides. I looked at him through the screen door. This was as close as he could get to me.
"Come outside, Sookie," Bill said plainly. I opened the screen door and he moved out of the way. I walked outside and sat down on the porch swing. It was more like a reaction than a thought process. I was already outside and seated before I knew I'd followed his instructions. I felt like such a stupid fool.
"I'm ready to hear your apology," Bill sighed. He touched my knee and I flinched involuntarily. He didn't pull his hand away, and I didn't push it away. But I wanted to push him away. I wanted to run back into the house and hide.
"I don't have anything to apologize for," I replied through clenched teeth. It would be easier to apologize. It would be easier to give in and tell him I was wrong. It would be easier to take whatever punishment he would give me. It would be easier to do that than to do what I had planned. I stood up and his hand slid away. I walked over to the railing that surrounded the porch. I leaned against the wood and closed my eyes.
"I want to break up with you." There were already tears in my eyes and they rolled down my cheeks in big, heavy drops. I couldn't not cry. I'd tried to hold back the tears when I practiced this stupid speech in front of the mirror, but I couldn't do it. I knew this day was coming. We'd been at this too long and it was just too hard. I loved Bill, but I just…
"I love you. I love you and I don't want to be with anyone else. But I can't do this anymore. This isn't me. I'm scared of you, and I'm scared of what I am when I'm with you. I shouldn't be crying after we make love! I shouldn't be telling myself to shut up when I'm hurting. I'm miserable when I'm with you. I can't… I'm sorry." I was sobbing now. My knees were shaking and I had to hold myself up with the railing. I hiccupped as I gasped for air.
"I've known for awhile you were unhappy, Sookie." Bill said plainly. The blank look on his face didn't change. I couldn't tell if he was upset or happy, angry or just as blah as he really looked. "I've always looked out for your best interests, but you are just not submissive enough. You don't have it in you. You're rebellious. This isn't the relationship for you. We aren't right together." He stood up and towered over me. I thought I couldn't breathe before, but I really couldn't now. What did he mean? Was he saying I'd failed? For a year I'd failed? I hadn't put up a fight and I hadn't told him no and I'd stood up to everything he'd ever done to me and I still wasn't good enough?
"I never loved you, Sookie." Bill said matter-of-factly, the same way someone says they don't want ketchup on their French fries. I stared at him. I wanted to scream and carry on, to slap him across the face, to rip out his dead heart and beat him with it. Instead, I just stood there and stared. I'd broken up with Bill, but somehow he'd just broken me.
Bill walked down the steps and away from the house. I went into the house. I stood in the middle of the floor and I looked around, completely at a loss. This was my grandmother's house. She'd died of a heart attack in these walls while I was being used for sex by my boyfriend, my boyfriend who didn't care about me and knew I was unhappy and kept stringing me along. I picked up a glass candy dish from the coffee table and threw it against the wall. It shattered, leaving a dent in the wallpaper. Glass went every which way. I picked up a vase. Threw it. More shards of glass and ceramic this time. I picked up more things and threw them. I threw things until I ran out of things to throw.
I went into the kitchen and rummaged around in the junk drawer. I caught my finger on an exacto knife blade that hadn't been properly stored. I pulled my hand out of the drawer and looked at the drops of blood on my fingers. I'd sliced them clean open, but I couldn't seem to feel the sting. I held my hand over the sink and watched the blood drip into the porcelain basin. Drip drip drip. I couldn't feel a damn thing. It was like I was dead inside. I dug around in the drawer again, and this time, I pulled out a big kitchen knife. I thought about Bill hurting me. I thought about how much I'd liked it, how much I'd enjoyed him enjoying me. I looked down at the blade and saw my tear-stained face reflected in it. I pressed the edge to my skin and I pulled. The knife was sharp, but not that sharp. I left a line in the skin, several layers deep, but only deep enough to get small bubbles of fresh blood. I dropped the knife in the sink, abandoned it.
Even though it was dark, I stormed out of the house. I walked up the gravel driveway. I could barely see through my streaming tears. My shoulders shook. My hands quavered. I couldn't even walk in a straight line. I marched up to the sidewalk that traced the main road. I stalked down it, swinging my arms like baseball bats. All I could think about was Bill, how I'd wasted my time, how I'd put myself in that relationship, how it was my stupid fault. I'd done those things. I'd let them happen. If only I could have seen him for what he really was. If only I could have pulled out when I had the chance. I was so damn stupid.
I didn't even hear him pulling out into the road. I looked both ways and I made a beeline across the parking lot exit. The car pulled out so suddenly into the beam of a single street lamp. I screamed, and because I was weeping, the sound was lost. I stumbled into the road, pinned to the grill of an old Chevrolet by force alone. I fell on my knees and cried anew, more from the shock than anything. The driver jumped out of his car and came to my side. Another car, passing by, peeled to a halt. That driver got out and ran over to me. She put her arms around me. I flinched and shrugged them away.
"Hey, you okay?" The woman asked me. She bent down at my side and looked at me. She was a pretty young woman, about my age, with wavy auburn hair and green eyes. She wore glasses, but they were pushed up on top of her head. I gathered she wore them for driving.
"Fine," I grunted. I pushed myself up off the asphalt. I'd skinned my knees when I fell, but otherwise I was fine. More shocked than hurt, my Gran would have said.
"Hey, can I at least give you a ride home?" The woman asked. At the same moment, the cloudy sky broke overhead. It thundered. The street pitter-pattered with rain drops.
"You sure we don't need to call the cops or something, lady?" The driver asked.
"I'm sure. You go on home and watch where you're driving, okay?" The woman helped me to her car. She stuck me in the passenger seat and went around to get in on the other side. She had some sort of crystal hanging from her mirror.
"I'm Amelia. I just moved here from New Orleans. Where can I take you?"
"Sookie," I grunted. I pointed her back down the road to the farmhouse.
"Look, I don't mean to pry since we just met and all, but you want some company tonight? I was thinking of ordering some Chinese, and shit girl, you look like hell."
"I'm not hungry," I said. Gran would've rolled over in her grave, but…
"Well okay. Hey, I don't have too many friends in Bon Temps yet. Maybe we can get to know each other better, yanno? I'm trying to get a job at this bar, Merlotte's. Do you know it?"
"I work there."
"Oh really? Great! I think that Sam is such a cutie. Okay, well, here we are. Are you sure you don't want some Chinese? It's totally on me."
"Yeah." I looked at her. If I were in a better mood and didn't have broken stuff all over my floor, I'd invite her in. But that wasn't happening tonight, or anytime soon.
"Well, it was a pleasure saving you, anyway. Maybe I'll see you at the bar, huh?" Amelia smiled and waved after she drove away. I looked across the lawn at Bill's house. His car was gone and the lights were all out. I shuddered and went inside.
I spent weeks avoiding people, all people, any people. When I worked at the bar, I took day shifts. Amelia got the job as a new waitress slash barmaid, but she took on most of the night shifts I refused and we rarely saw one another for more than a couple minutes. She was sweet on Sam, and that just made me even more uncomfortable around the lot of them. When Tara or Sam would call, I was busy cleaning the house or working or washing my hair. I never went out, and if I did leave the house, I was sure to be back before nightfall. Looking back, it sounds like a pathetic existence, but at the time, it made me feel safe and in control. Those two states were more important to me than anything else in the world. As long as I was safe and in control, I couldn't be under Bill's thumb.