I remember nothing!
My mind is a blank slate; I have no recollection of who I am. I do know what I am: vampire. Do not ask me how I know what a vampire is, but I know that I am one.
I have no idea how I came to be in my current location. It is as if I have been in a coma and have suddenly woken up in a strange place where nothing is familiar.
I find myself walking down a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. Not that I would recognize anything once I see it… I do not know where I am heading but something is compelling me to move forward. It is as if an invisible rope is around my body pulling me in this direction.
The night is cold; I can tell we are in winter. I can also tell the sun will rise in a few hours. It is as if there is a clock inside of me, tracking the seconds until the sun’s early rays break across the horizon. I can sense that I have not seen the sun in a very long time.
My ears detect the sound of an approaching vehicle. I know about vehicles, yet I have no idea why I am without shoes and a shirt. This situation I find myself in is puzzling indeed. I am walking along the side of the road, so I have no fear that the vehicle will strike me. The vehicle pulls beside me. I do not glance towards the vehicle; friend or foe, I do not know what awaits me in that car.
The driver rolls the window down slightly, and asks through the gap, “Can I help you?” I stiffen as a slight breeze wafts the scent of the human towards me. I panic as I realize I am very hungry. I do not wish to harm this woman for trying to be a Good Samaritan. I continue walking forward; perhaps if I do not acknowledge the driver, she will leave me alone.
I hear the car shift into park, and the driver’s side door opens. “Eric! It’s me,” the woman calls out.
I turn around quickly, my fangs fully extended, my hands twisted into claws, hissing. The girl stops suddenly with her hands in front of her as a sign of peace. This is the first chance I have to really look at the girl. She is beautiful like an angel; long golden hair pulled back from her face, tan skin that seems to glow with the light of the sun, and wide, expressive blue eyes that stare at me with fright. I cannot tell about her body because she is wearing a hideous coat, but I have a feeling that she has a lush figure a man could lose himself in. My fangs are aching from lust now as well as hunger.
“Stay back woman!” I do not know if I am warning her or myself. My voice sounds raspy, as if I have a cold. Of course that is impossible; vampires cannot fall ill.
The woman demands with her hands on her hips. “What are you doing out here?” The angel has fire…
“You know me?” I rise out of my defensive crouch and slide my fangs back in my gums. This girl seems familiar to me. Nothing concrete, but I feel that I am safe with her. I feel at ease, peaceful.
“Of course I know you, Eric. Stop messing around!” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts tightly together, straining against the fabric of the coat. I knew I was right about her body…
“Eric is my name?” A name…my name. I had hoped that I would recognize my name, but I feel nothing.
My confusion has finally penetrated the woman’s defenses. “Eric Northman is the name you go by these days. Do you know why you are out here?” Concern for me stretches across the features of her beautiful face.
“I remember nothing. I was a void until you found me.” My eyes search her face, hoping to see any clues about myself.
“You know you’re a vampire, right?” She is scared of me. This I cannot allow. She is my lifeline; she is all I have in this existence.
“Of course, and you are not. Do not fear me; I mean you no harm,” I say to reassure her.
“Famous last words,” she mumbles looking at me skeptically. I do not understand. She squares her shoulders and straightens to her full height. Her head does not even reach my shoulders. Is she trying to intimidate me?
“Come on then,” she gestures towards her car. “It’s late, I’m tired, and it’s freezing out here. We’ll go to my house.” She walks back to her vehicle and opens the passenger door. She reaches inside and pulls out a crocheted afghan. It is quite possibly the most hideous thing I have ever seen…at least I cannot remember anything as ugly. She walks towards me with the blanket and holds it out to me. I look at her in confusion.
“Here, put this on; you look cold.” She glances down at my feet and a small sound of distress escapes her. My feet are bare and covered with mud and blood. “Oh Eric,” she says sadly.
I take the blanket from her and cover up as best I can. The cold does not affect me as it does a human, but the warmth of the blanket does feel good against my skin. I gingerly walk forward, staring at her car. I have serious doubts that I can fit inside it.
“Eric?” I glance at her face and can see her exhaustion. I do not wish to burden her further, so I bend my body inside her rusted metal bucket.
We drive in silence for a few miles and stop in front of a rundown farmhouse. I frown as I take in my surroundings. The farmhouse has seen better days; parts of the porch are in disrepair and the paint is faded. What gets me is how isolated the house is.
“You live here alone?”
“Yes, I grew up here. My Gran lived here until…” Her voice trails off as sadness overwhelms her. Wait, why can I tell how she is feeling?
We get out of the car and I scan the area for any dangers lurking about. My savior moves on autopilot to the door with her keys in hand. She is blithely unaware of how vulnerable she is out here. I hover behind her, making sure she is protected. She pushes the door open and walks in what looks to be the kitchen. I move to follow her but cannot. An invisible barrier separates me from her. A sound of distress escapes my mouth as I push futilely against the invisible shield.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Eric, won’t you please come in?” I rush inside and close the door behind me, flipping all the locks. I turn around to find her at the sink filling a pan with water. She gestures for me to have a seat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. She puts the pan of water on the ground. I can see the steam rising from the pan.
“Those pants are filthy. Rather than get them wet, take them off. I can wash them for you later.” She turns her back to me so that I can undress in private. Her modesty is adorable. I pull off my pants to find myself encased in red bikini underwear. I shrug my shoulders…not what I thought my choice in underwear would be. I pull the blanket around my body as much as possible and sit down in the chair. I guide my feet to the pan of water and moan in appreciation. The warmth feels amazing! My angel takes the pants I left on the floor out to the porch where her washer and dryer are.
Once she comes back in, she reaches for her telephone. How is it I know about technology but I do not know anything about myself?
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to call Fangtasia.” At my blank expression, she explains. “Fangtasia is the bar you own with Pam, your progeny. She is probably worried about you.”
“How do you know she is not the one that did this to me?” I am hesitant to trust anyone else in the this situation. I think the more people who know about my situation will be worse for me.
“Well, we need to know either way.” She makes her telephone call. She reaches this Pam and speaks with her for a few minutes. From what I am able to hear, witches have done this to me. Pam asks my angel to keep me here for the evening, unless my angel thinks I am a danger to her. I would never harm her, and I feel insulted that this Pam thinks I would. Pam will come tomorrow night to explain everything, and ends the call. I am happy that I do not have to leave.
The water in the pan is cold, but it does not bother me. I am swirling my feet in the water. My angel turns to face me, and a small smile spreads across her face, amusement bubbling up inside her. She moves over to the sink and grabs a towel and soap. “This may hurt a little,” she says as she kneels on the ground at my feet. She washes my feet with the soap and cloth. It stings as she washes a particularly deep cut on my foot. However, once all the loose rocks and dirt are out, my skin stitches itself back together. She lifts my feet out of the pan of water and places them on the floor. She dries my feet with another towel. I am grateful for how she is taking care of me even though I know she is exhausted.
“Thank you,” I say simply. I do not know how I can ever repay her for what she is doing for me.
She nods in understanding. She stands upright and sways on her feet. I reach out to steady her by grabbing her arm. She feels so warm through her t-shirt. I want to wrap myself around her warmth and snuggle in.
She moves out of my reach and walks down a hallway towards the back of the house. I find her in a bedroom lifting items out of a closet. Once the floor is clear, she lifts a trap door. “I know it’s not as fancy as you are probably used to,” she says gesturing to the space, “but it’s light-tight. You will be safe during the day.” I nod in understanding. I do not know what type of accommodations I usually favor; I am grateful to have a safe place to rest.
“Do I have to get in there now?” I do not want to leave my angel’s side. She is all I know in this existence; I find her comforting.
She looks down tiredly and shakes her head no. She leaves the room, heading to her bedroom. I hear her grab items from a dresser, and move to the bathroom. I move to her bedroom and inhale deeply. Her scent is very sweet, and the way it clings to the air makes my mouth water. In her bedroom, it is very concentrated and my fangs click down. I move to her dresser and see various bottles of perfume. I quickly smell the bottles, but cannot find the source of her scent. It must be unique to her. I want to bathe in her scent; I want to surround myself with it always. It is both comforting and arousing.
I hear my angel finishing up in the bathroom, so I move to sit in the chair in the corner of her room. She comes out of the bathroom wearing a long flannel gown that completely hides her figure. She turns the light off and climbs in bed. I feel the need to be close to her, so I climb in bed next to her. I can feel her stiffen, so I seek to reassure her that my intentions are pure…mostly.
“Woman, what is your name?” I must know her name.
“Sookie, Sookie Stackhouse,” she mumbles sleepily. Her hand reaches for mine underneath the covers and our fingers intertwine. She falls asleep holding my hand. Her face is towards mine, her hair fans out on her pillow like the rays of the sun. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes deeply in sleep. I find it peaceful to watch Sookie sleep. I have so many questions about her. How did we meet? What is our relationship to each other? I have been able to sense her emotions all evening, so I know she had my blood at some point. Does that mean she is mine? The thought of her being mine fills me with excitement. But if she is mine, why does she live in this house? Why have I not provided for her? Am I such a selfish asshole that I do not take care of her?
I stay with her as long as I possibly can. When I leave her, it feels as if I am leaving a part of myself with her. I lower myself in the hole in the closet. I stretch my body out as best I can in the cramped space. My last thought before I enter my day time rest is of my angel…my savior…my Sookie.