From the Waist Down

Chapter 13

Coffee percolated slowly through the filter, and the sound of dripping gave me a sound with which to focus my thoughts. Jason and Amelia buzzed around the kitchen like angry bees, pushing past one another to collect pollen for the hive. Their thoughts went in every direction, stabbing at me from all sides. My head pounded. Just focus, I thought. Focus on the coffee. Drip, rumble, drip. Victor's slippery voice wiggled between my ears, clogging up the tiny space left among Jason, Amelia, and the percolator. You're mine now.

A spoon clattered to the floor when I accidentally slammed my hand against it. The thoughts stopped, just for a moment, to assess my movement. Amelia pounced first, but Jason was right behind her, scooping homemade, sloppy pancakes onto a plate.

"What's wrong, hon?" Amelia asked, treating me like a piece of china that she'd glued back together with Elmer's.

"I…" I stammered. I couldn't collect my own thoughts. I couldn't say a word, not even if I'd wanted to speak. Something had me by the throat, and it was squeezing.

"Here, sis," Jason frowned, pushing the plate of pancakes in front of me. They were already dripping with butter and syrup. My stomach clenched looking at them.

"I can't," I breathed hoarsely. For the second time that morning, the kitchen chair tumbled to the floor with a screech. Their thoughts followed me like ghosts as I ran down the hallway, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom.

What can we do for her? Is she going to be okay? That bastard, if he wasn't already dead I'd kill him! Why'd she ever get mixed up with those demon assholes anyway? Oh God, poor Sookie. Maybe she needs to talk about it. I should talk to her. I'm gonna kill him! Stake him! Chop off his head!

The water from the shower drowned them all out, every last voice like a fire engine in my brain. The water was cold, and though I wore a pair of sweats and a long sleeve thermal, it didn't keep the cold out. I shivered under the stream, my tears blending in. Without their thoughts, the thoughts of my friends, my family, all I could hear was Victor.

No one is coming for you, Sookie.


"How is she?" I asked as soon as the door creaked open. Jason was standing there, his hand wrapped around a classic Winchester rifle, as though the vampire brigade was waiting on his doorstep. Jason Stackhouse was never going to win an award for brother of the year, but he had Sook's interests at heart. It was a start, anyway.

"She barricaded herself in the bathroom," Amelia frowned. She held a cup of coffee in her hand, but it had gone cold.

"How long as she been in there?" I pushed past Jason and walked inside, throwing the door closed behind me. Amelia looked at the clock on the mantel over the fireplace.

"A few hours,"

"Have you checked on her?" I demanded, my voice rising to a higher note. I ran down the hall and pushed open the bedroom door with my foot. Jumping around the bed, the sheets in disarray, I slammed my fist against the bathroom door. It was locked, but I could hear the shower going.

"Sookie!" I yelled. "It's Sam. I'm coming in, Sook."

On the other side of the door, I could only hear the shower. If she was really in the shower, this was going to be bad. I waved to Amelia, standing nervously on the other side of Sookie's bed. She hurried over, her eyes slightly bowed. Was she scared? Nervous?

"Sookie? It's Amelia. Can you let us in, hon?"

"We don't have time for this. Look, as soon as I get this open, you make sure she's…you know, decent."

"Yeah," Amelia frowned. "Okay."

It took a couple of tries with my shoulder up against the door, but I finally managed to pop the lock and burst in. I couldn't help but see her, try as I might to maintain her dignity. It didn't matter. She was fully clothed, barely responsive to my entrance. She didn't even look up. She sat in the tub under the shower head, shivering, her lips almost blue. I looked back at Amelia, but she was already grabbing towels and a robe from the linen closet.

"It's okay, Chere," I murmured, turning off the faucet and lifting her up out of the tub.

"No one's coming," she replied through chattering teeth.

"I'm here, Sookie," I sighed, pulling her into the bedroom so Amelia could get her wet clothes off.


"She can't be left alone," Sam frowned, talking over her head as I pulled off her soaking shirt. I'd seen Sookie come out of a few supernatural fights and things, but I'd never seen her look so defeated. Her skin was icy cold, as pale as the Viking's, and covered with bruises. I pulled her hair off her neck to put it into a towel, and could barely hold in the sound that threatened to slip out of my mouth. Shock, that's what it was. Pure shock. She had this gouging wound in her neck, like someone had tried to rip her a new air hole.

"We had her in the kitchen, but she bolted." I argued, looking over her forehead at Sam. He'd bought some blackout curtains and was getting ready to string them up on the plastic rods over the windows.

"Shit," I hissed, realization occurring like a lightning bolt hitting the earth. "I bet we were thinking too loud. Probably just making it worse."

"You can't help it, she knows that," Sam sighed, looking at me. He pushed a curtain down its rod and hung it back up.

"But even when she's feeling tip top, I give her migraines. Good job, Amelia. Way to go."

"Hey," Sam sighed. He'd moved on to another window, but already the room seemed darker. "Don't blame yourself. Hell, if you want to blame someone, blame me."

"No, Sam," I argued. We'd had the big sit-down last night, after Sookie fell asleep. Eric Northman, Sam, Bill, me and Jason. I didn't want to know the gory details, but they told us as much as they knew. I felt so sick after that I puked up the bagel I'd eaten to settle my stomach.

"Couldn't get to her," he whispered. He spoke to the wall, not to me, but I could still faintly hear him.

"You tried, Sam! You got shot!"

"I'd die for her," he admitted quietly.

"You almost did!" I shot back. "I'm not sure that either thing is better. Losing your friend or losing…"

"Neither one," Sookie croaked beneath me. She hadn't said anything at all since we'd pulled her out of the bathroom, and at first I wasn't sure she'd spoken at all. She looked comatose with her vacant, staring eyes and her purplish lips and her rigid fingers. She didn't say anything else, but she looked at Sam for a long time. It was Sam that turned away, his attention reverting to the curtains, which he finished putting up in record time. The sun wouldn't rise again in Sook's east-facing bedroom for awhile. It was so black in there, we had to turn on the light.


The rest of the day passed in near silence. Jason reluctantly left for work and Amelia ordered pizza at four in the afternoon. We sat and picked at the pizza toppings while Sookie stared vacantly at a glass of orange juice. I wondered if, if she stared at it long enough, she'd find peace swimming around the glass. As the last rays of sunlight blended with the purple and red clouds of sunset, the closet door in Sookie's old bedroom clattered open. Eric swept from the room and was upon us in seconds, his fangs out and his face ghastly white.

"Sookie," he faltered, seeing her sitting at the table, unharmed. Amelia and I had put her in flannel pajamas after she'd finally thawed out. She'd have looked cozy, like a child in onesies, if she didn't look so dead.

"I'm okay," she said, rather unconvincingly.

"No, my love," Eric frowned, dropping to his knees in front of her. He looked up at her tragic face, and though I never liked the guy, I could see all the pain I felt in his eyes. "You're not."

"We should not have brought her back here," Eric sighed, looking over my head at Sam. They didn't act like I could hear them, but that was fine. If they pretended I wasn't here, I could stay out of the conversation. My throat was clamped shut anyway. Every urge to speak was easily suppressed. It was too hard.

"She wanted to come home," Sam frowned. He was plugging the television into the wall. Eric arranged the blankets around me and crawled into the bed beside me.

"She doesn't feel safe here," the Viking replied. He put his arm around me and for a moment, I froze. His hand stopped, aware of my body language. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

"With the blackout, you should be able to sleep beside her. No sunlight. That'll help."

"Yes," Eric nodded. "Thank you."

"I wish I could do more for her. Hell, I wish…" Sam started, but stopped. "Doesn't matter. All I want is for her to…"

"She will."

"If you need anything, Cherie," Sam sighed, looking at me. His voice seemed broken. Heck, he seemed broken. "You call me, okay? Doesn't matter when."


"I could hear you scream," Eric admitted as soon as Sam left. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to you."

"It was just a nightmare," I said quietly, pushing the memories of the swamp away. They kept creeping back, like water collecting in a puddle.

"I'm bonded to you, Sookie, as you are bonded to me. I can feel you, even when I am sleeping. I could feel your heart pulsing, your blood pressure rising, your fear. You do not have to lie to me. I know you were afraid."

"This is my home, Eric," I squeaked, looking up at his chin with watery eyes. "I don't want to leave it."

"I won't take you away," he soothed. "But…I won't leave you alone either."

On his belt, his cellular phone vibrated. I unclipped it from his belt and looked at the lit screen before he snatched it from my hand and threw it across the room. It shattered, tiny pieces of plastic going every which way. The sound set my body to shivering, which the Viking cured by pulling me against him. He handled me like a porcelain doll, as though he might break me. But see, Eric, I'm already broken. Nothing to worry about.

"If it's important, they'll leave a message," Eric reiterated. He tucked me against his side and pulled the blankets around me like the layers of a womb.