Note: This story deals with discussion of sexual violence. However, it is not explicit. This fic is a sequel to my fic, "Dead From the Waist Down".

Everyday

Don't let anyone tell you that the nightmares go away, or that you stop thinking about what happened. Don't let yourself believe that time heals all wounds. It doesn't.

I stayed with Eric, locked up in his windowless house somewhere in Shreveport, for three days. Have you ever watched those reality shows on television about the heroin junkies stewing away in rehab programs? I was one of those junkies. I walked back and forth from Eric's bedroom to his bathroom. I got used to the warm sheets, the pearly white bathroom tiles. I drank copious amounts of black, green, and herbal tea. I stared at the walls. I lost my appetite. Though I stopped eating, I continued vomiting like some sort of stomach flu patient. My skin had a pale green tinge to it.

If I had been more aware of the world, I might have noticed that Eric never left my side. Because I stopped eating, he stopped eating. When I awakened in the middle of the day, he disturbed his daytime slumber to stay awake with me. When I slept through the night, he held me against his chest protectively. Sure, I couldn't see him. But because of the bond, I could feel him. I knew he was there. If he departed for even a moment, there was a distinct and noticeable emptiness, hanging on my shoulders and weighing me down.

You'd expect him to get annoyed, maybe antsy or hungry or tired of the sight of me. The blood bond gives us a connection, and I can feel his thoughts. He never felt any of those things. He brewed my tea while I stood in the middle of the kitchen floor. He cleaned up the vomit I continued to leave on the bathroom floor, or in the sink, or in the bath. He talked to me, just quietly about different things, and when I drifted to sleep, he sang to me in his human language. His arms were always around me, touching me, cradling me.

After three days of moping, though, I was frustrated, sick of the sight of myself.

Do you get that way, maybe when you're sick or injured and your body is pretty much useless? You look down at yourself and think, damn it, I need to do something! I need to get up! I need to accomplish stuff on my own! I had cabin fever. Eric's hospitality was wonderful, but I needed my own bed. I missed Amelia. I missed Sam. I missed Gran's quilt.

"I need to go home," I frowned at Eric when he woke up beside me just after sunset. He nodded sadly and touched my shoulder. Why was he sad? Why were his eyes so deep and dark and profoundly sullen? He didn't argue with me. We got up from the bed and he handed me a bundle of clothes that Pam had donated from her closet. I slid my legs into a pair of gray pants, avoiding the bruises between my thighs. I held the cream colored sweater out in front of me. It would be too small. Pam and I were just shaped differently. I looked in the mirror above Eric's chest of drawers. My breasts bulged out of the top. I was exposed. Though Eric and I were alone in the bedroom, there were millions of eyes leering at me. I wrapped my arms self-consciously around my chest.

"Do you have a coat?" My voice trembled. Eric reached into his open closet and retrieved a heavy black wool coat. He held it out to me and I sank my arms into the sleeves. The Sookie in the mirror was swimming in wool, but the imaginary eyes behind her disappeared. I hadn't even noticed that I was holding my breath. I let it out in a long sigh.

The sky was still shaded pink along the horizon when Eric helped me into his car. I sat uncomfortably on the leather seat. Something was wrong. The dark hole of the trunk slid up in front of my eyes. A banging noise echoed in my ears. If he opened it, would Bill be in there, hungry and waiting for me? Would I be in there, scrambling in the dark, looking for a weapon?

"Look in the trunk!" I squeaked. I scrambled back out of the car. Frantically, I gestured at the back of the car. The paint was different, but it was the same trunk. The Viking didn't argue. I stood on the lawn, several feet away, and pulled the coat around me like an afghan. Eric hit a button on his keychain and the trunk popped open. I jumped.

"It's empty, my lover," Eric frowned. His hand stretched out in my direction, and he beckoned me to his side. I took it cautiously, inching forward to look down into the car. Could a car be manufactured without a trunk? I desperately wanted one.

"Okay," I sighed, reassured. "Okay."

I got back into the car. Eric joined me and started the ignition. He held the wheel with one hand, and reached over the parking break to intertwine his free fingers with mine. We drove in silence.

I had a sudden, overwhelming desire for pie.

I hadn't eaten in three days. I wanted Gran's pie, but Gran was dead. That sounded so final in my head. Gran was dead and I couldn't eat her pie.

"Can we get some pie?" I asked, cutting the silence with my squeaky, unusually high strung voice. We were on the interstate headed for Bon Temps. Eric looked away from the road briefly to meet my eyes. I saw a hint of a smile on his lips. His happiness touched my heart. Maybe he'd been worried about my lack of an appetite.

Without a word, Eric turned off the highway and pulled up at a busy diner on the edge of the road. There were cars all around the place, and I could see a lot of movement inside. Eric looked at me, then at the crowded diner. I couldn't take my eyes off the glossy aluminum siding.

"What kind would you like?" He took his black leather billfold from the console between our seats and stuck it in the pocket of his dark washed jeans.

"Coconut," I said thoughtfully. Gran made a phenomenal coconut cream pie. I could taste it on the back of my tongue. Saliva filled my mouth.

"Do you want to stay here?" He looked uncertain. Should he leave me here, alone in the car, for five minutes, or should he take me inside with all those busy human brains judging me, my haphazard appearance, and my male company? I dropped my eyes to the parking brake pulled up between us. It had a distinctly phallic appearance. I shuddered.

"I can stay here," I said nervously. Come on Sookie, you're a big girl. You can sit by yourself in the car for five minutes!

"Lock the doors. I will be back soon." He got out of the car. The emptiness fell over me like a dark storm cloud blotting out the sun. A sick sensation filled the hungry void in my stomach. Gooseflesh crept along my arms and legs. Come on Sookie, you're a strong, independent woman. You can manage on your own! I stared out the passenger side window. Were there vampires out there? Were they my enemies? Did they want to hurt Eric by hurting me? Was I in danger? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

The Viking unlocked the door with his keychain. I screamed, slammed myself heavily against the passenger door, and went stiff as a board. Eric dropped the pie on the back seat and took me into his arms. I could feel him, but it was as though I had hypothermia. There was a bare outline of him that I touched with numb fingers.

"Sookie," he whispered, brushing my hair with his palm. "It's me. It's Eric."

"Eric?" He seemed to appear from the darkness of the car. I opened my eyes halfway and gazed at him. His pale skin was luminescent. His dark blue eyes were cool with concern. His fangs were retracted.

"Ssh," he hushed me gently. My face was wet with tears, but I hadn't noticed until that moment. His thumb brushed the tears away.

So much for Sookie Stackhouse, independent woman. I was Sookie Stackhouse, pathetic and weepy. Great.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I sighed as soon as we were back on the road.

"Well, in the last fifty years, humans have invented these ice boxes that keep food cold until you're ready to eat it," Eric smiled at me.

"Good thing I have one of those," I said, playing along.

"Hmm, yes. Good thing."

We pulled up in front of the house. A brown and white collie was sitting on the welcome mat in front of the back door. Amelia appeared in the open doorway, leapt over Sam, and barreled across the lawn to meet me. She had her arms outstretched. I froze. Don't hug me, don't hug me, don't hug me. Amelia wrapped me up in her arms. Her mile-a-minute thoughts bowled me over. I staggered backward.

"Ooh, sorry," Amelia let go immediately. Her arms fell against her sides. "I'm just so glad you're home." I was so worried! So, so worried! If that dickhead wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself. Can't believe what he did to her. Hope she's okay.

"Please stop thinking." I begged her through clenched teeth. I held my hands over my ears as if that would block her out.

"Shit! I…I'll just go. I made…coffee." She looked at me, then at Eric, and then at Sam who had joined us on the lawn. She stuck a hand in her pocket, jingled her car keys, and then ran over to her car.

Sam the dog licked my hand and I jumped backward. He let out a little whine and stepped back cautiously. His ears were pressed back against his head and he looked so sad. But I wasn't ready for a welcome home party, particularly not from my boss, the dog. Eric lifted me off the ground in one great scooping motion and took me into the house. My house. Gran's house. He set me down again on the floor in the kitchen. Coffee was brewing. Amelia had baked. There were cookies and cakes and pies. She'd piled casseroles up in the fridge. I felt a little queasy looking at all the food. The kitchen was spotless, not even a dish sitting in the sink.

I left the kitchen and went into the living room. I put a DVD in the player. Friends came on. The sofa was lumpy underneath me. Friends never failed to cheer me up when I was down. A smile painted my face by the time Eric joined me. His face was a bit pinker, and I knew he'd had one of the bottles of synthetic blood from the fridge. I was instantly glad he hadn't eaten in front of me. My spine sank into him when he sat down. His lips touched my scalp.

With the crook of his finger, he brushed my hair back from my shoulder to examine the wound my attacker had left. I turned my eyes to the television set, and I'm sure I looked as vacant and expressionless as I felt. Victor had made a mess of the wound. He'd torn at my skin, leaving a gaping hole where typical teeth marks might be. He hadn't bothered to lick the wound, to heal the hole. I was left with an ugly scar, right alongside the tiny white puncture holes that had remained after Eric had bitten me at Rhodes. Eric's entire demeanor changed to one of deep regret. He covered the wound back up with my hair and pulled me closer. I hadn't fed from him to help myself heal. I wouldn't let him lick the wound.

It would always be there as a reminder, as if I really needed one.

Eric tucked me into bed an hour later. He sat uncomfortably on the edge of my bed, holding my hand in both of his.

"Can you tell Sam I need to work tomorrow?" I asked him.

"Are you sure you want to…to work?" Eric sighed.

"I need to get back to my life. I can't just sit around and be depressed. I'll go crazy."

"It's only been…" but he didn't finish. I knew how long it had been. He knew I knew.

"I'll tell him." He paused and stroked my hand with his fingers. "I'll stay as long as you need me."

"I don't want you to have to sleep in the crawl space, not when I know your bed is so comfy."

"My comfort isn't important, love. I want you to feel safe."

But I would never feel safe.

Eric stayed beside me until I fell asleep, but when I woke up in the morning, his car was gone. He'd left a note on the fridge about Sam (who was giving me a half-shift from eight until closing). He promised to see me at the bar that night. Please try to eat something, my love, he'd finished before signing the note with a script E. I sighed and open the refrigerator door. Amelia had cooked a tuna noodle casserole, a potato and beef casserole, and an enormous three-cheese lasagna. Ugh. I took a box of cereal from the cabinet and poured myself a small bowl. The thought of milk on it made me feel sick, so I ate the cereal plain and dry with my fingers.

I didn't know what to do with myself all day. I'd spent the last three days sleeping. When I wasn't sleeping, I was crying. It wasn't the best way to live life, that's for sure. I slid out of the house and stood on the lawn for a long time. It wasn't really time for planting and growing, but I went down to the beds of flowers and pulled weeds. I knelt on the ground and tried not to imagine eyes watching me from the woods. There's no one back there, Sookie. It's the middle of the day! But I wouldn't be surprised if Victor Madden had had allies in the Were community, people just as sick and twisted as he had been.

Stop, Sookie. You need to stop thinking about him. Clear your mind!

But as soon as I was ready to stop thinking about him, about it, about everything, the memories flooded over me. I dropped the little trowel I'd been using. I sat back on my heels. I looked down at the earth. His eyes had looked that same color. A slew of foul words pierced the thick air around my head. They'd all come from my throat, but they felt foreign. I stumbled back into the house, tripping over my shoe as I ran. The door slammed shut behind me. You need to hide, Sookie. But from what? What am I hiding from? I wobbled down the hall and crawled into my bed. I was exposed there. The curtains were open and people could see me here. I grabbed my cellular phone from the nightstand, moved into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.

After a few minutes, I wiped vomit off the toilet bowl and flushed it. So much for that breakfast I'd eaten. I cradled the phone in my hands. My thoughts danced back and forth. Should I call Eric? I'd wake him. But I wanted to hear his voice. But I had to be strong. I couldn't keep leaning on him. But he wanted me to lean on him. I couldn't lean on him forever. But it had only been…

I dialed his number and put it on speaker.

It rang four times before it went to voicemail. I listened to the little robotic voice, and then his name, in his own tongue. I dialed again and again, listening to it ring, his voice come on for a second, and then the beep. When I called the fifth time, he answered.

"Sookie? What's going on?" His voice was sleepy, barely alert. But underneath that sleep, he was anxious and afraid. He couldn't do much for me in the daytime. He was so far away.

"Nothing," I murmured. "I just wanted to hear you." Wow, I sounded pathetic.

"Where are you?" He was so tired.

"My bathroom,"

"Call Sam. Tell him you aren't going to work tonight."

"No! I need to go! I have to go." I needed to be normal again. I couldn't go on this way, hiding in bathrooms in the middle of the day, waking up my vampire boyfriend, crying at the sight of…

"Sookie, please…" He sounded so sad.

"I have to," I repeated like a child.

"I will be there as soon as I can," Eric sighed, defeated.

"Eric," I mumbled. My eyes stung. I was holding onto tears.

"My lover," he whispered against my ear.

"I'm sorry…" I paused. There was so much I was sorry for. I was sorry for getting myself into trouble, sorry for letting Victor…, sorry for keeping him from his work, sorry for waking him in the middle of the day…again. I hung up the phone before I could finish. It rang back immediately. I stared at it for a long time. The ringing stopped and started again. Then it stopped. When it rang the third time, I answered it.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he said. He wasn't angry that I'd hung up, or if he was, I couldn't hear it in his voice. He didn't scold me for apologizing. He didn't scold me at all. I had expected him to yell at me. "You did nothing wrong."

We said our goodbyes. He told me he loved me. I said I was sorry for the twentieth time. I hung up. Then I crawled into the bathtub and fell asleep.

I woke up again at ten after seven. I flipped on the lights in the bathroom and took a shower. When I took my work clothes out of the closet, a wave of anxiety washed over me. There were two pairs of extra shorts, two cap sleeved tops, a pair of black pants, and a few polo shirts. I took one of the pairs of shorts out of the closet. I held it out in front of me.

They had ripped so easily. I took the seams in my hands and I tore. The fabric fell apart in my hands. Amelia stuck her head in my door when I expelled a scream of rage. I threw the destroyed garment at her and she darted back out of the room. I picked up the other pair and ripped it in half. Tears. Again with the fucking tears. I threw the other pair at that same spot in the doorway. A pale hand darted out and caught them. Eric was standing in the room. He filled up the white frame.

"I'm going!" I yelled at him. I grabbed the black pants and put them on. I pulled the long sleeve winter polo over my bra. "I can't stay here in my bathroom and cry all night!"

"I'll drive you," he sighed. My Viking walked around my bed and pulled me against his chest in a tight hug. I wiped my face on his shirt. I sniffled loudly.

"You won't leave me?" I whispered against his shirt pocket.

"I'll never leave you."

I put on my shoes and socks, tied my hair back behind me in a ponytail, and made sure that my wound was sufficiently covered by the collar of my polo shirt. Eric held my hand on our way to the car. I looked at the trunk warily.

"Do you want me to check it?" He asked, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. I was shocked by how irritated he wasn't.

"No," my voice wobbled. But I wanted him to check it. Check it. Just open it. Make sure I'm not in there. Make sure no one is in there. My brain started screaming. Check it. Check the damn trunk. Just open the fucking thing!

"Come on," he said, pulling me against him. "We'll check, just in case."

He opened the trunk with the key so it wouldn't pop open and scare me. I wrapped my fingers up in his shirt tail. There was nothing in the trunk. It was completely empty. I stared at it, in all its darkness. I let go of Eric and shot myself into the passenger seat of the car.

We drove to the bar together. Can I do this? Can I get through a whole night here? We walked in the front so I wouldn't have to walk past the supply closet. I trembled when I though about Sam's office. I stood by the bar, pale as my vampire. Sam looked at me. His eyebrows were knitted together with frustration, confusion. I tried to find that anxious smile of mine, the one that told the world I was okay even when I wasn't.

I couldn't find it anywhere.

"Hey Sook," he said quietly. "How…uh…" I was damaged and he didn't know what to say to me. I took an order pad from behind the bar and walked away from him. Eric sat in my section. I brought him a bottle of blood without asking if he wanted one. He drank it, but never when I was looking at him.

The bar was busy, and I think Arlene was happy to have me, even if she wouldn't look at me. I didn't know if she knew. She shouldn't. It shouldn't change our…our relationship. I don't need her pity. But a part of me ached for the Arlene I used to know. A part of me wanted to curl against her and cry. I sighed and walked to my first table. Andy Bellefleur and his wife, Halleigh, smiled at me. They were completely clueless. It was better that way. Looks like that vampire is Sookie's new beau. Wonder how many people he's killed. Don't know what Sookie Stackhouse sees in these monsters. Never would have pictured her a fangbanger.

"What can I get you?" I asked, taking a deep breath. I couldn't block them out.

"I'll have a chicken basket," Halleigh smiled. Huh, I wonder what that TrueBlood stuff is like? Does it look like blood? I mean, it would have to, wouldn't it?

"Cheeseburger for me," Andy nodded, folding up his menu.

Wish Halleigh's breasts were as big as Sookie's. Wow. She sure is pretty.

I delivered their order to the chef. I already felt sick.

Hey, there's Sookie. Ain't seen her in a few days. Maybe she's been fuckin that vampire of hers. If I were into men, woo boy. Good thing I ain't.

I wonder if Crystal knows I've been making googoo eyes at Jason over the meat counter at the store? 'Course, we all know she cheats on him whenever she can get the chance. Dumb bitch, shoulda never married Jason!

"Hey! Miss? Can I get another beer over here?" Dumb bitch, completely oblivious. See what kinda tip she gets.

I gritted my teeth and walked around to a few more tables. You can do this Sookie. You can find that big ol' mental wall. You've done it before. Just…take a deep breath.

"Yo! Sookie!" Jason was coming in with his trashy HotShot wife. He had no idea. I didn't want him to know, but a part of me wished he were a better big brother. I wanted to take him aside and crash his head against the wall. Look Jason, I was fucking raped! Be a brother! Do something!

I was raped.

I looked down to see my tray of drinks on the floor. Had I been carrying it? When had I dropped it?

I was raped.

I picked up the tray and plastered that smile on my face. Eric was by my side, helping me. Sam came over too. Arlene touched my back. Jeezus, I hope Sookie's okay. She isn't lookin' so good. Maybe she's pregnant. I straightened up again. Sam went to get a mop.

"Silly me, all klutzy," I giggled a little to prove how goofy I was.

It was all real now. Everything looked black and white and very, very real.

"Hey, waitress?! Can I get a beer over here?"

Sure, jackass, you can get a beer. I went over to the bar and picked up a bottle of Budweiser. It was open and waiting. I heaved it with everything I had. Softball pitch. It flew up and over the heads of a few patrons. It shattered just a little to the right of him, against the wall, and sprayed him and his buddies.

"Anyone else want a drink from poor pathetic Sookie?" My voice was so high, I think I broke some physical law. "How about a good fuck, huh? That's all I'm good for, right? Not smart or kind or great at math. Just breasts with legs, right?" Screaming, Sookie. You're definitely screaming now.

My legs gave out and I was sitting on the floor. The screaming turned into crying. The cook came out from the kitchen. Eric and Sam bent over me. Arlene went to give the beer guy a piece of her mind. Several of my customers got up. My brother hovered over me. Most of them were thinking. I bent my head to Eric.

"Get me out of here," I whispered hoarsely.

"Is it always going to be like this?" I asked him in the darkness of the car.

"No, my love, it won't always be like this." He said it so sadly but so firmly.

"How do you know?" Valid question.

"I've lived a long time." I figured that meant he'd seen other women in my…condition. I didn't want to know.

"Jason doesn't know."

"No. I've only spoken to Sam, and Amelia."

"And Pam and Bill."

"Yes."

"I don't want to tell anyone else." I shook my head. Would they treat me differently? Would they ask me questions? Would they think it was my fault? I'd gotten mixed up with vampires. Victor Madden had been Eric's enemy. They'd think it was my fault. I certainly did.

"Then we won't."

Eric took me into the house. He started a fire. It wasn't cold, but I was glad to have it. I stared into the flames for a long time before I spoke. Eric was holding me. This was the safest I would ever feel, but I didn't feel safe.

"I was raped." If I kept saying it, maybe… Maybe what, Sookie? Eric didn't say anything. He touched my face. He kissed my forehead. What did I want him to say? Yes you were?

"Sookie," his voice was warm. "I've lived a long time. I know that this will be with you…every day. But eventually, the pain will lessen. You will remember how to be that independent, fiercely prideful, intelligent, honest, and sweet Sookie. And I will always be with you, every day."

He tilted my face up to his and kissed my lips. He hadn't kissed me, there, since before…before I'd been raped. I hadn't noticed how much I'd missed it. He hadn't wanted to violate my space. I don't know how I knew that, but I did.

He got to his feet and took my hand. I followed him, because I'd follow him anywhere. He took my arms and wrapped them around his neck. His voice was barely there against my skin, and only I could hear him. I didn't want to hear anything else.

"My love, come and dance with me."

Author's Notes: This story takes its' title from one of my favorite song's, "Everyday" by Dave Matthews Band (specifically the live track from the Weekend on the Rocks set). I did not decide to write a sequel until several of my readers asked for or suggested an aftermath wrap up to "Dead from the Waist Down." This is for all of my readers. I hope you enjoy it!

Keep an eye out for new material!

-At A Venture