Chapter 1

Beginning of an Eric/OC series

Following various seasons of True Blood while using my own storylines too

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Remember, this is only the beginning

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Sorry if its a bit late - in the midst of 2nd year college exams

Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood or any True Blood characters. I do however own my own characters and own plot details

Don't be afraid to comment, I don't bite...sort of...

"Melody Ryan, get your shoes on! You'll be late for college!"

I physically cringed at the voice as my mother yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Groaning, I flipped the screen of my laptop down and ran out of my bedroom. Like every other teenager in England, getting up on a rainy Monday morning for school was nothing short of a chore, and I deeply despised chores.

"Melody!"

"Ugh, I'm coming!" I shouted back while cramming my feet into my boots. I shut my bedroom door, not before muttering, "Don't get your panties in a twist."

Appearance was key for pretty much every student and so I took a quick glance in the mirror before meeting the nightmare that was my mum. In the cold November air, I had decided to wear a denim jacket, tights and a white dress. I checked my makeup and growled at the tangled locks that was supposed to be my hairdo. You could say I was the poster girl for every insecure teenager in the country; my hair was long but I was not happy with my natural hair colour of reds and browns. My eyes are hazel and boring while my body is far from perfect. I wasn't fat, but curvy, while every other girl in my school was as thin as a chip. I wasn't happy with the way I looked. My mum insists I'm beautiful, but when the 'great personality' speech comes along, I know it's just her nice way of saying I'm below average. I stared at the image in front of me and sighed heavily.

I'm not ugly. But I'm nothing special either.

"Melody Ryan, if you don't get yourself down these stairs in ten seconds, so help me I will stop your pocket money this very instant and I'll-"

At the word 'money' I sprinted and practically flew down the stairs, only to meet an exasperated mother. Never having a job in my life, I couldn't risk losing money. My mum was small like me, petite but lovely all the same. She had frizzy red hair and a smile that could get even a vampire's heart to beat. But then her small-packed rage could very well cause said vampire to stake himself willingly, just to get out of her firing line. My mum had a temper and I tended to push her buttons too often.

I jumped from the last step and grinned at her, only for my smile to sober once I saw just how angry she was.

My shoulders slumped. "What?" I moaned, circling her petite body as if she were a time bomb about to go off. "You said I had ten seconds."

She spun and fixed me with her stare. "We're half an hour late, Mel. Don't you even care that your little sister's going to be late for her first day at nursery?"

As if on cue, a tiny little figure ran into the hallway, crashing into my legs. I huffed out a breath from the impact but couldn't help but grin down at my little sister. Rosie was just three years old; a large fifteen year gap between the two of us. She took after our dad more so than our mum. She had curly hair too, springier than my wavy hair, but it was short and bouncy and dark brown. She had a 100-watt smile and had my parents and I twisted round her little finger. Today was her first day at our local nursery and she was as excited as anything.

There was nothing that Rosie loved more was my silly nickname for her. She was indeed a flower princess if ever one existed. Although Rosie was quite the chatterbox with our family, she held her tongue with others unless she knew them well enough to chat away. But with me? She never stopped.

"Melly, Melly!" She squealed, yanking at the end of my dress in her excitement. "Daddy says you're coming nursery with me!"

I laughed and ruffled her curls. "Only in the car, princess." She pouted and I crouched down to poke her chubby cheek. "Maybe next week, if you are very good, I'll sneak in with you. Does that please you, your highness?"

Rosie giggled in delight and clapped her small hands together. Oh, how she loved being the centre of our family, and she very much was.

"And why is the flower princess not in her booster seat?" Dad's voice was mock serious as he walked in from the kitchen, biting into an apple. Droplets of juice dribbled down his chin and he grinned at his youngest daughter. He opened the front down, bowed at the waist and gestured to the car. "Your carriage awaits, milady."

In her florescent pink wellies, Rosie ran to the car and impatiently waited for dad to unlock it with a click of the button on his keys. Mum strode up to him and slapped his chest, before kissing his2 lips abruptly. He winked at her before allowing her to pass, letting her strap Rosie into her booster seat. Usually girls my age would cringe at the sight of their parents in love. But it wasn't five years ago that my mum and dad were separated, almost making it six years apart until they found each other again. They still argued, and they still had their differences. But at a parents evening thanks to moi, they found their love for each other once more. Hence the three year old now singing in the back seat of our car.

I went to grab my schoolbag but dad was already there, pulling the long handle to rest on my shoulder. My dad was average height, with curly dark hair and the eyesight a mole would be happy to have. He had thick glasses on that suited his stereotype of a college professor for English Literature. I may enjoy seeing my parents happy, but under no circumstances did I enjoy the fact that my father worked at the college my friends and I attend. Nor did it help that my 'so-called' friends told me just how dishy he was.

"Sarah tells me you have a philosophy test today?" He said with a mouthful of apple, pushing me out of the door and shutting it behind him.

I gawked. "Sarah?" I shivered at the first name basis of his fellow colleagues. "You mean Miss Wright?"

"Yup," he smirked, knowing how awkward it was for me that he often invited his friends from work round our house. "I'd wish you good luck but I know you won't need it."

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks dad. You're the best."

He nudged me with his shoulder and yanked at my bag to stop me walking. Picking up on my sarcasm, he smiled softly and cupped my cheek. His lips pressed against my forehead in a fatherly gesture and pulled back.

"Good luck, my sweetheart," he spoke warmly, his Irish accent coming through slightly when he acted so kindly. "You'll do amazing, I know you will."

"Of course I will," I said, full of myself when I really wasn't. "What's not to know? Bla, bla, God…bla, bla, government…bla, bla, evolution, bla."

He chuckled, only to jump when the car horn blared. Mum really wasn't the patient type. We scrambled into the car and drove out of the estate.

First thought that came into my head? My head hurts. No, more like it kills! My head was pounding and I let out a breathless groan, the noise tearing from my lips. And I ached everywhere. I didn't think it was possible to be this tired and to hurt all over my body, not knowing why or how. I started to get a feel for myself. It was like waking from a full day of sleeping, not knowing where you are or how you got there.

Everything was black. I tried not to panic. Think, Melody, think. My eyes were closed. I ordered myself to open them but felt my mind rejecting the idea. They were heavy. They were tired. I didn't want to wake up. Was I asleep? Maybe this was just a dream. A deep, limitless dream.

One where I physically ached? Or was that all just in my head too?

I was lying down. I was pretty sure I was. On a bed? There were sheets underneath my fingertips. I lightly stroked and clutched at the fabric. Am I home? Am I hung over from a night out with my friends? No way, it was a Monday last night. Was it last night? How long have I been like this? I'm on a bed. It's not particularly comfortable. But with my entire body moaning at me not to move an inch unless I wanted to feel more pain, comfort wasn't my priority.

I jerked slightly, like you do when you're running in a dream and suddenly fall. Was I falling? I hissed at the pain. I think someone's hit me over the head with a hammer. I could hear something now. Beeping. A steady rhythm of beeps, electronic and irritating. Another sound. Not beeping; I'm pretty sure they're voices. Mum?

"Go get the doctor," a hushed female voice ordered.

Doctor? Doctor who? Maybe I really am dreaming.

But the beeping. The constant beeping. I wanted to shut it up. Quiet. I needed absolute silence and it made me angry. Don't they know my head hurts?

Doctor. Why is mum talking about a doctor? Is that my mum?

Something's not right. I'm not so sure I'm dreaming anymore.

I clenched my teeth as I opened my eyes, letting them flutter before adjusting to the bright lights. I'm in my room. No, that's not my ceiling. I looked across the room. Those aren't my walls. I grit my teeth as my head felt even heavier just by turning it slightly, seeking out the beeping noise. There's equipment by my bed. No, not my bed. Not my room. Where am I?

A flash of white distracted me from the equipment. A man in a white coat strode up to me, pulling something from his pocket. I flinched as he drew closer, hovering over my chest. Who the hell was this guy?

"Melody?" he said, and rather loudly too. I blinked furiously as a light blinded my left eye, then my right. "Melody, can you hear me clearly?"

I resisted the urge to nod; my head couldn't take it. I wanted to say yes, to tell him to shut up, but my throat was parched. Water.

Another hand moved over my chest, reaching across my body. It was a young woman.

"Here you go."

Not my mum. The same woman as before, but it wasn't my mum. She held something to my lips and I glared at it. Water.

I gulped it down greedily, revelling in the way in soothed my aching throat. The strange man in the white coat drew back, smiling softly, and I really didn't like it. He was smiling but his eyes said something else.

"Melody, do you know where you are?"

I looked around the room and back to the equipment that made the incessant beeping noise. I knew what it was. I didn't want to know, but I did. And it made me go cold. The white coat…The young woman…The bed…

The heart monitor…

I gulped and stared up at the doctor, dread filling my eyes. "Why am I here?"

My red messy hair was pulled back. It felt stiff and uncomfortable, like something was tied around my head. I looked at my outfit for college. Only it wasn't. I was in a hospital gown. There were spots. Tiny red spots, but I could still see them. The smell of copper burnt my nostrils. My hand shook as it slowly raised to touch my head. It didn't meet my hair. I felt fabric underneath my fingertips. My head throbbed. The tips of my fingers trailed down until it felt something hard and lumpy. I rubbed it and drew my hand back, staring at the dried blood that had fallen from my skin. My eyes widened at the sight.

The doctor sighed heavily and took my hand in his, as if he was an old friend. I wanted to pull away but didn't feel I had the strength. Mentally or physically. I had a strange sense of foreboding. Why did it feel like my whole world was about to collapse in on itself?

"Melody, you must take it easy. You've been in an accident."

"An accident?" I swallowed.

"You've been unconscious for almost three days now. Your family's car was involved in a traffic collision and you suffered injuries to the head and to your upper body." He tried to offer me a reassuring smile. "It seems you are recovering well. Slow and steady, mind you."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Where is my family?"

His eyes became heavy and a blow struck my aching heart. "I am very sorry to tell you this, dear. Your family suffered from far worse injuries than yourself." He drew in a heavy breath and released. "Your mother was killed upon impact while your father was brought into the hospital. I am afraid he died later that day."

Hot tears fell from my eyes. Mummy? Dad? Oh, God, please no…

My eyes met his. "Rosie? My little sister, she was with us, she…" My weak voice trailed off at the grieving sight of the doctor and nurse. He squeezed my hand tightly.

"I am so very sorry, Melody."

The droplets from my eyes scorched into my skin, burning as they fell one after the other. No! Not my little sister. Please no! I couldn't comprehend his words. My whole family. Not possible. No, no, not possible. My body twisted to the side and I fell over the safety bars of the hospital bed, spilling the little contents of my stomach before sobbing into my blood stained hands.

I would be eighteen in just two more months. We had been planning to spend the day in London. Mum and I were going to go shopping in Harrods, then take Rosie with us to see The Lion King on stage. Dad had given me a Tiffany necklace early because he just couldn't wait until January. It was partly a 'well-done' present for my exam results, he says.

Said.

Who knew it would become one of my most precious possessions?

I was told to stay in hospital to recover. At only seventeen, I was required to live with my dad's oldest friend. My parents had few living relatives left, and those who were still alive were cruel and unloving. Dad's friend from school, Barbara Yuley, or Auntie Barbs as we called her, had a family home she had lived in for the past twelve years. She moved from Essex to the USA when she inherited the farm passed down from her own uncle that bared no children. It resides in a small town known as Bon Temps in the state of Louisiana, and I had only seen it a few times when I was young. America was known for the largest number of known vampires. Since they had come out of the coffin, the US had been the leading country for Vampire Rights. Apart from London, vampires remained unknown and unwanted by the humans of the United Kingdom. But I was intrigued by them. I just wished I was lucky enough to meet one.

Auntie Barbs was crazy, or at least that's what everybody else thought. My mum used to tease me. She told me Auntie Barbs was a witch. A good witch and would one day teach me all she knows. Her crazy antics and 'spells' she cast was one of the reasons my dad was instantly drawn to her at school. That and she used to help him cheat in tests.

Two weeks later, the woman I remembered from various visits and holiday cards ran into my hospital room, almost beside herself with worry. Her eyes were red, making it glaringly obvious she had been crying just moments before. Auntie Barbs was plump, with grey streaked hair. Her sunglasses pushed back her fringe and her cardigan sleeves were wrapped around her fingertips anxiously. She used it to wipe under her eyes, new tears forming at the sight of me.

I had the chance to glance in the mirror on a visit to the toilet. I was quite the sight. I had stitches across my forehead and up past my hairline from where my head hit the back on my mum's seat. My arm was in a cast and placed in a sling. The purple and yellow bruises were beginning to fade but my black eye had not yet left. I was a mess. But I was alive.

I couldn't even think about my family. They were gone. Little Rosie was gone. Just three years old, and her life had been snuffed out like a candle. All those years taken away. Her future untouched. Unlived.

Auntie Barbs let out a grief-filled sob and I hadn't been aware that I was crying too. Almost silently. My hysterics had since died out in the last couple of days. But it didn't hurt any less.

Auntie Barbs ran across the room to my bedside and took me in her arms, clutching my head to the crook of her neck. She soothed my dying sobs and pulled back to stroke my bruised cheek.

"My dear, I am so very sorry," she whispered. "Your mum and dad were good people. And that sweet baby of theirs…" she trailed off, knowing what pain it must cause me to hear her speak of them. Auntie Barbs had an odd mixed accent. While Louisiana had clearly rubbed off on her, her London accent from years back still tried to creep its way back in.

I forced a smile out. "Thank you for coming."

"Oh, darlin', of course. As soon as I heard." She took my hand in both of hers and kissed the back of it. "I'll take good care of you, Melody. You'll like it back in Bon Temps. The old farm, just as you remember it."

I nodded along, although unsure of what to make of her plans. Moving to America was a big deal. Moving into a country full of out-of-the-coffin vampires? That was a whole other scenario. Then again, I didn't really have a choice now, did I?