The beginning is always the best place to begin. So much has happened since this has all began. It was like a wave that overtook me and dragged me to the bottom of an ocean, just waiting for something to eat me alive. Not necessarily a bad thing because I hadn't felt anything in years. I had always been of the mindset that feelings are exhausting. They are; that hasn't changed. In any case one needs to feel things to let yourself know that you are still alive. I had finally discovered that I wasn't dead, but enough. Let's get to the real story…

I haven't been alive for many years. I was just going through the motions of life without really feeling anything or even knowing that something mattered. I had closed myself off to everyone around me. To anyone who knew me I was the same woman I had always been, happy, bubbly, at times feisty, and full of life. I was the only one who knew the truth. I put up a good front to the outside world but I was so damn tired of pretending with everyone. I wanted to let go, show everyone that I wasn't alright; that I couldn't be strong forever after what had happened.

What had happened to me? Well that's something you'll find out later. I was suffocating; I could feel myself being pulled under, just like I was drowning. I didn't know if I had any fight in me left to claw my way back to the surface. I ran one of my hands up my neck and could feel my pulse ticking away just like a time bomb. At this moment in time I even encouraged death. I simply wanted to die so I could feel something.

I had to get away. The walls of my home were closing in around me. I started to panic. My rich brown eyes darted around my sitting room; it was as though something unforeseen was just waiting to attack me. I could feel it. My urge to run became stronger. Not only for myself because now I had a real fear that something was not quite right. I silently counted to ten and tried to regain whatever level of sanity I still had. When that didn't work I darted up the stairs to my bedroom. I quickly dressed in a white eyelet dress. I didn't bother to pick up a brush and comb it through my hair. I didn't care who saw the wreck I had become, nor did I slip any shoes on my feet.

Minutes later I was outside. Now what? My mind screamed the question but I didn't have the answers. I didn't even try to find the answer. I was too frightened. For the first time in years I was feeling a real emotion and I had no idea how to stop it. I didn't know if I wanted to stop it. I knew…nothing. A Mack truck could run me over right now and I wasn't sure if I would even know it.

I walked towards the woods. Leaves rustled under my toes as the crisp cold air reached me. I must have walked for hours. It didn't feel like it but I knew it must have been. Time didn't matter. Time had no bearing on what I needed, for I still didn't know what that was. I suddenly stopped and sank to the ground, not even mindful that I was such a dirty mess that I blended in well with the darkness of the woods.

I was lost. In more ways than one. All at once the thoughts invaded my mind; everything that I had blocked out the last few years was back. I let the memories wash over me. I welcomed them. I could feel the pain. It had an inescapable hold on my heart; the grief, the overwhelming despair, all of it. As I remembered I saw his face; the one who I didn't want to be reminded of. His face brought back happier memories. He had always brought out my spunky and playful side. I knew I still had it in me. I just needed help to let it back out. I needed help, period.

The memory of the last time I was truly happy invaded my mind. I shook my head as though that would get rid of it. What a foolish thing to do. Instead I let it overtake me.

His big hands cupped my face, a light shimmering in his intense blue eyes. A burning passion that I knew was all for me. His thumb brushed over my lip and I bit down on the pad of his thumb. I felt his soft flesh in between my teeth and gave a further playful nibble. He laughed. I loved the sound of his laughter. It wasn't often that I heard it so when I did, it did magical things to my insides. With his free hand he brushed back my hair and tangled his fist in it. Every movement of his was intense, passionate, and I was never wanting for excitement. Being with him was a constant thrill. I was convinced that there had never been a more perfect specimen on this earth than him.

His gaze never left mine. "You know how I feel about you."

I nodded.

"Even if I'm not able to speak the words yet, you know."

I took his finger out of my mouth and placed it directly over my heart. "You don't need to say it. I know all too well how you feel. I feel it in here." I moved his fingers and palm over my heart and his eyes darkened with an unexplained emotion for him.

He turned away suddenly and grabbed his black leather jacket, one of the staples of his wardrobe. "I'll be back, lover. I promise."

I believed him and knew that it was true. I watched him turn the doorknob and his big long strides carry him outside.

That was the last time I would ever see him.

The mere memory of that day and what I would discover only a few hours later had tears shimmering in my eyes. I tried to hold them back but I knew it would do no good. They escaped my eyes and fell down my cheeks. Silently. I didn't bother to brush them away; if only my pain could be brushed away as easily as a tear could.

There was a sudden movement behind the trees. I turned frantically towards them and a lump of fear caught in my throat. A figure was looming there; from what I could make of it a tall one at that. A man. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. Would this be my last moment of life? I couldn't help thinking it. That's what it felt like.

The figure moved closer. I could almost see him. I was rooted to the spot. Fear had crippled me. I couldn't move.

Suddenly he moved past the trees and I saw his face. The face I had yearned to see again for years.

He didn't come any closer and my mouth opened in a mixture of horror and shock but no sound came from me.

"Hello again, lover." His voice came out raspy as though he hadn't used it in a while.

I got up and moved slowly towards him. It seemed like it took a thousand years to reach him. I reached out to touch him. My fingers gently brushed his face. Cold but there was no doubting that he was still alive in the way that mattered.

"Eric," I whispered.

For he was Eric Northman and I was Sookie Stackhouse.

TBC

A/N: Hey all! This will be the start of a new chapter series. I have many ideas rolling around in my head and this is going to be a long one and what I feel will be an interesting read. For all those who have stuck by me in my absence of updating you should know that Let the Games Begin and Back Again will be continued and should be updated again in the next coming weeks. If you're interested in reading more of this story leave me a little review. That's what makes it all worth it for me.

xoxo