The Guily Ones

Crazy Town

Someone had been in my house!

Despite the crazy night I'd had, this thought was the only one that kept surprising me. 

Someone. Had. Been. In. My. House. While I was sleeping! 

Surprised might not be the right word, though. After the months I'd been through, almost nothing surprised me anymore. But it certainly didn't make me feel safe, imagining someone standing over my bed like in a scene from "Scream" while I slept.

And then, there was the whole writing on the wall in blood thing of course. Which... ugh. Yeah, admittedly, that was rather alarming. Whatever.

I must have been really out of it not to notice. Looking back, I guess I was. The next day, as I cleared tables at Merlotte's, I tried to make sense of it all, unease still slithering down my spine, my senses on high alert. 

"You forgot the fries, sweetheart!" called an unfamiliar man, about fifty, twenty kilos overweight, in faded jeans and a white muscle shirt, as he tried to slap my butt.

I paused for a second, considering a response, but decided it wasn't worth the stress right now. Instead, I placed the burnt burgers in front of his buddies at the next table and ignored their complaints.

There was still no sign of Lafayette, who wouldn't have let the burgers burn in the first place. I wasn't surprised.  I had checked on him that morning before my shift to make sure he was okay, but even after loud knocking and shouting, he hadn't opened the door. I'd briefly considered entering his house to ensure he was still breathing, but when I heard his shuffling behind the door, I knew he just wanted to be left alone. So, I scribbled a quick note and slipped it under the door:

Lafayette,

I heard what happened. Let me know if you need help! My sweet ass is just a call away. 

Seriously. Call me!

Ash

All morning at work, I felt dirty. 

I blamed myself, at least partially, for Lafayette's state. If I hadn't poked the hornet's nest called Northman, they never would've noticed Lafayette, and he'd still be dancing happily through the restaurant, spreading glitter and love. I'd be blissfully numb, going about my job, not having dirty dreams where I was falling for my boyfriend's murderer—um, just dreaming of my boyfriend's murderer. No falling. 

Right on cue, the image came back.

Tom. In the elevator. Dead. Blood. And then the blissful light before darkness swallowed me whole. 

Would these images ever leave me?

A dirty dishcloth flew through the room coming straight for my face – I caught it just in time.

"Whoa, good reflexes!" Terry, busy burning the next batch of ground beef on the stove, shoved two more plates under my nose, looking slightly concerned. "I know that look you just had, you know. You were completely zoned out... Were you in a war I don't know about or something?"

I gave him a weak, fake smile, hoping it wouldn't fall short. 

"No, Terry. Just tired," I replied. He scrutinized me a bit more, then shrugged.

"Sorry, girl, I always see ghosts where there are none."

His face went blank before he shook it off and handed me two more plates piled high with burgers and fries. "Table 7!"

Grateful not to continue the conversation, I rushed off, focusing hard on not getting lost in my memories again. And then I noticed it.

I couldn't pinpoint what it was or where it came from, but something was different. The air crackled, and the patrons were shoveling—no, stuffing—their food in. Searching for the cause, I spun around, trying to tune everything out and concentrate on my senses. If you needed Sookie, she was, of course, nowhere to be found. Didn't she have a shift? I was probably just paranoid... Somehow—