The Guily Ones

Home, Sweet Home

I rode the bus home from the hospital, head still in the clouds from the drugs they had provided me with. However with every passing minute, anxiety had me more clawing on the edge of my seat, trying to get a handle on the situation. 

Instinct told me, that it was time to run again. 

James had found me (was a vampire, could you believe it?)

He had also not so subtily insinuated that I had been playing a part in the demise of Godric – which was a way bigger reason to pack my things and make sure to keep at least an ocean apart me and his vampire son Eric... who I'd nearly fucked in Dallas. 

Where I had gotten involved with a cult that wanted to end all vampires. 

My vision turned blurry again, the drugs trying to pull me back under. I shook my head, angry at my scattered thoughts. 

Run.

James.

Godric.

Eric.

Eric...

Jesus, our make out session had been otherworldly...

I smacked my hand against my forehead. Why did that kept happening? Why were my thoughts always straying away, when I tried to make plans for departure?

Maybe I should just leave Bon Temps right now. Before the others returned. Before dawn. Before... seeing everyone. And having to say goodbye. 

My throat clocked up as anxiety ramped up again.

Nothing was worse than having to take the bus when you were on the run. Every five minutes, it stopped at a station, new passengers got on, others got off, while I sat in the back, trying not to jump out of my skin. At one point, a group of nuns boarded, paying for their fare with jingling coins. Outside, the sky was already starting to change color. It wouldn't be long before dusk settled in, and by then, I had hoped to be far, far away.

I didn't believe that Eric knew about my involvement in Godric's death—hell, even I didn'tfully understand how I was involved in all of it — but I wasn't about to take any chances. Even though I'd surprisingly seen a more human side of him, I was convinced he wouldn't hesitate to remove my head from my shoulders and turn my skull into a decorative vase when he'd find out. And he would find out eventually. Godric was his maker, his father figure. Whatever had been between us, or could have been, wouldn't matter. I might have been clumsy, sometimes a bit stupid, and hot-headed, but I wasn't naive. I knew Eric was dangerous, and I knew when it was time to leave.

For example, when I had some involvement in his makers death, however involuntarily that might had been. A lone tears freed itself from the corner of my eye: Damn it, I had actually liked that kind vampire Godric. 

Nervously, I chewed on my bottom lip and tapped my foot on the floor as the bus crawled along.

"Bon Temps, next stop!" the bus driver yelled over his shoulder, his voice garbled, before spitting some tobacco into a metal can next to his steering wheel. Startled, I stood up and looked out the window.

"Um, excuse me, but Bon Temps is still at least 8 miles away!" I tried to reach the driver on my left. The man, probably in his fifties and slightly overweight, gave me a once-over, lingering on my chest before muttering, "Roadblock. You'll have to get off here, sweetheart."

With those words, he brought the bus to a stop and stared me down until I stumbled out. As soon as I stepped onto the ground, the bus was gone, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind.

"Well, thanks a lot," I muttered, brushing the dust off my pants with a heavy sigh. At least I didn't have much to carry. Slinging my bag over my good shoulder, I started walking. It took a full hour before I got close enough to the town center to realize something was wrong. Sure, Bon Temps had never been particularly clean or well-maintained, but it had always managed to hold onto a certain appearance. I'd never seen an abandoned building with a blaring alarm, shattered windows, and graffiti covering the walls. Nor had I ever seen two naked men going at it on the lawn in front of said building.