It's About Power
Chapter 13
I couldn't help looking out the window. I was making tuna noodle casserole, intending to bring half of it to work with me on Monday. I was draining tuna cans in the sink when I looked through the half-open blinds, out across the dark lawn. There he was, Bill Compton, my ex-boyfriend. A part of me missed having him around. It wasn't him that I missed specifically. It was the principle of the thing, the body next to me, the arms around me, the fingers in my hair. You always remember the bad things in your old relationships right? Whoever remembers the good times when the break-ups are bad? I couldn't recall a single time when we'd been truly happy, but I knew there were times like that. When we'd first started dating, he'd devote whole nights to my physical pleasure. He'd watch me writhe under his gentle tortures, and when it was over, he'd pull me against him and kiss me. It wasn't the sex I missed, though, so much as the holding, the touching, the caressing. I didn't let anyone hold me now. I didn't let anyone get too close. If people could hold me, they could hurt me. I couldn't let anyone in.
There he was, Bill Compton, a hundred feet away or so. He was nursing a bottle of True Blood. He was staring at me. I had no doubt Bill could see the whites of my eyes from this far away. He said he didn't love me, but that didn't mean he didn't want to hurt me some more. I set the cans of tuna down. I turned off the pre-heat setting on the stove. I grabbed my keys off the hook beside the back door. I left on every single light in the house. If it was on, I left it on. If it wasn't, I flipped it on before I exited. I jumped in my car. It was the first time I'd been outside after sunset in two months. I'd cooped myself up, knowing that I'd be safe from him inside those walls. But in there, only my physical body was safe. My mind was never free of him. He was always there, even when he wasn't.
At first, my instinct was just to drive. Just drive and drive until you get too tired. I had my wallet, my handbag, enough money for a hotel room (barely). If I needed to stop, I could stop. But I knew I would feel better if I kept driving. I got on the interstate toward Shreveport. It was a simple decision, a decision I couldn't explain. I just got on the road and sped off into the darkness. If I drove fast enough, he couldn't catch me. I didn't even think about police. They didn't enter my mind at all. None of them ever followed me either. Maybe they had a sixth sense: avoid the crazy bitches. I pulled off the interstate when I zoomed into the city limits. I drove through every well-lit street past fast food restaurants and bars that opened early and adult bookstores with yellow neon signs.
I thought about Eric. Eric Northman was the only man I knew in Shreveport, and I didn't know him that well. Still, he'd been kind to me. I decided to drive there, to get a drink, to calm my nerves. I checked the clock on the dash. It was only nine and the bar didn't open until ten. I knew it would be open though. Bill and I had been there at such an early hour before. I pulled into the parking lot and parked beside a pristine black 1970 Z28. It was a beautiful car, and I had seen it once before at a distance. The muscle car, with wide black leather seats, belonged to Eric. I watched the grey aluminum door for awhile. It never opened, never moved. Could I go in there? What would I say? Did Eric know that Bill and I had split up? I had no way of knowing unless I went inside. Part of me was afraid. If I went inside and talked to Eric, it could get back to Bill. What would Bill do to me if he knew I'd spoken to his boss? What did I even intend to tell Eric? Was I going to complain about Bill, ask for help? No. I didn't need anyone's help. I didn't want to owe anyone a favor, especially a vampire. Something had compelled me to come here. I'd wanted a drink, something soothing, but the bar wasn't open yet. You could have gone anywhere for a drink, Sookie. You came here because Eric Northman was nice to you. He knew you were having problems with Bill long before you took notice. He seems like a good man. But he's still a vampire. Hell, he's still a man.
I got out and walked up to the door. My hands were shaking when I knocked, the same special knock Bill had used, and the door opened. Pam, the blond vampire with the thin face, smiled at me.
"Sookie Stackhouse," she nodded her head. "Please come in."
"I wondered if I could…if Eric is here," I said in a wishy-washy sort of way. I wasn't used to asking for things I wanted or needed.
"Wait here," Pam said. "I'll see if he's available."
I stood silently in the entrance, just in front of the door. My mind raced back to the thoughts in the car. If I stood here and talked to Eric, I'd have to come up with things to say. I could thank him for making me realize that Bill was wrong for me, but I hadn't realized those things until long after Eric had mentioned them. I could tell him that I'd broken up with Bill, but he probably already knew. I could tell him I was just in the area and wanted to come by for a visit. That would almost work. It sounded almost solid. But there was that lingering feeling again. What if this visit got back to Bill somehow? Would he be angry with me? Would he come to the house? I tried not to think about how much his yelling at me had an effect on me. He could still order me around, I had no doubt in my mind. If I screamed at him, I could block him out, but that was the only way. I wasn't even sure I had the strength to do it. I'd told him no once before. But could I do it again? I'd gotten myself so mixed up in Bill. I was afraid to put myself back in that position again.
Eric walked toward me. His long blond hair was down, hanging around his shoulders, falling smoothly down his back. He had a small smile on his lips as he came sauntering down the hall. He looked confident, perhaps even pleased to see me. His blue eyes flashed. He was wearing a white tee shirt, taunt around the pectorals and biceps, and blue jeans, also tight. He was a well-sculpted man, a beautiful creature. I bit my lip. I grabbed for the door knob behind me and I ran out the door.
I started the car. The back door open and Eric stepped out into the parking lot. He looked angelic, illuminated under the security lamp. I gunned the engine and peeled out of the lot, racing down the street. All I could think of was Bill, what Bill would do to me if he knew I'd been here. He'd know. Somehow he'd just know. I couldn't think about anything else. He was a plague in my mind, a disease under my skin. I felt sick, like I was going to have to pull over and throw up. I didn't even see the stop sign. I lunged through it. The oncoming car obviously didn't see me. He pulled forward and we hit with a loud, screeching crunch of metal.
I jumped forward, aware that I'd forgotten to buckle my seat belt. My chest slammed heavily against the steering wheel and I smacked my forehead on the windshield. It cracked under the force. As soon as I'd rocked forward, I fell sideways. The driver's side door held fast, catching me as I nailed it with my arm, my elbow. I knew I was screaming in pain, but I couldn't hear myself. I watched the other driver get out of his car. He was a big man with dark brown hair and tan skin. He raised his fists and gestured at the wrecked front of his vehicle. He was screaming at me, his face red and sweaty. I saw Bill's features in his face, the curled lip, the fangs, the piercing, drilling blue eyes that dug right into me like claws. Every part of my body ached but all I could see was the driver, Bill Compton, raging and fuming like an animal in a trap. If he could have gotten any closer, he would have been in the car, wringing my neck, killing me.
The driver's side door popped open and I fell sideways, unable to catch hold of anything. I felt arms on my body and I whined in wordless protest. If he touched me, he could hurt me. I was already hurting, but it could always be worse. My head was damp and I reached up with my good arm to wipe it. I brought back blood. Not good. I looked up into the face of my rescuer, expecting to see Bill. Instead, I saw the steely blue eyes of Eric Northman. His mouth was turned down in a garish frown, and I could see in his eyes that his fangs were out, at least partially.
He lugged me into his arms, wrenching me out of the car. I really felt sick now, but I swallowed it down. I let him hold me, but I remained rigid, like a stone. I wasn't going to enjoy this, even if it was necessary. I don't know what Eric did to the driver, the Bill Compton lookalike, but his excessive yelling stopped. My rescuer dumped me, unceremoniously, into the backseat of his pretty black Z28. I yowled and stared up at the ceiling. It was like lush black carpeting.
I woke up in a sort of daze and the pain flew back to me like I'd been hit all over again. I tried to remember where I was, what had happened. I looked around and regretted it instantly. My neck and back were more than sore, they were on fire. I felt a hand on my face and I flinched.
"Sookie," Eric murmured. I tried to see him out of the corner of my eye. I caught only a flash of blond hair. "It's Eric. You're going to be okay."
"I need to go," I whimpered. I wasn't safe here, not when I was incapable of even turning my head.
"Not yet," he said softly. He sounded like he was walking farther and farther away. He held his forearm up in front of my face so I could see it. Blood dripped from two holes in his wrist.
"Drink this," he said so quietly I barely heard him. He pressed his arm to my mouth. I couldn't. I couldn't drink him the way Bill had…tasted me. I shook my head, but it was an intense and stupid gesture. The whole room began to swim.
"Please Sookie," Eric whispered. I felt his mouth on my throbbing head. He was kissing me. Why was he kissing me? "Please drink it."
He wasn't telling me. He was asking me. Vaguely, I recalled what he'd told me about vampire blood. It did strange things to humans. It was magic. I licked his arm tentatively. I don't know what I expected it to taste like, but it was definitely the rusty penny-taste of regular old blood. I ingested more of it. As soon as I got over the taste, I was hungry for it. But at the same time, I was weak and so tired. I pulled away and let it dribble over my lips and down my chin. Eric pulled his arm away. I closed my eyes again.
I woke up again feeling better, even though I wasn't a hundred percent. If my arm had been broken before, which I suspected it was, it was only sore now. Where I'd cracked my head on the windshield, there was only a scab under my bangs. I could taste dried blood on my lips. I turned over and found myself lying beside Eric Northman. He was awake, which meant it was still dark outside. I hadn't been out for too long. His arm was draped around me, and he was looking at me intently. The look on his face? I didn't know for sure, but it looked like he was trying to figure me out.
"You taste different," Eric said quietly, partially lost in thought. He tucked me against his chest. I allowed it for a moment, a moment when I forgot everything that touch meant, that it could mean.
"You tasted me?" I blinked.
"You tasted me first," he chuckled.
"The car…my car…" I sat up. Eric's arm cupped my spine. I rolled off the bed he'd apparently laid me out on. There was blood on the sheets, my blood. Eric sat up. He was naked from the waist up. I shuddered where he touched me. I backed up against the wall and reached for the bloody mass of clothes he'd apparently stripped from me. This scenario was getting more and more troubling by the second.
"It's out front. It's not in the best shape, but it'll get you where you need to go." Eric frowned. He got up from the bed and came around it to stand in front of me.
"Why did you come to see me?" He reached for me again. I ducked out of the way and backed toward the door. This was all getting to be too much. Bill would definitely know I was here now. He'd know, and he'd be angry.
"I have to go." I breathed. I yanked open the bedroom door. It flew open and slammed into the wall. I squinted when it made a loud banging noise.
"Sookie," Eric reached out to take my arm but I yanked it away from his outstretched hand. I stumbled down the staircase to the front door. I didn't turn around, but I knew he was watching me. People are always watching me these days.