A/N- This is a M rated story. If you are unable to read stories of a sexually violent nature, this is not the story for you. I decided to step away from my usual style of writing and explore different area's. Again, do not read this story if you can not tolerate violent, nonconsensual sex. Thanks
My name is Sookie Northman. I am a newlywed, having been married for ten months. My husband is the very powerful, very protective Sheriff of Area 5. In case you were wondering, Area 5 is my little corner of Louisiana. It is a community of vampire politics. My husband is Eric Northman.
I am a telepath. I can read the minds of humans and Supes, but for some reason I can't read vamp minds. That is the only thing that has kept me alive this long. That, and my husband. Not only am I a telepath, but I am also part Fae. That's right, I am also part Fairy. I'm sure you can guess that I lead quite an extraordinary life.
My name is Sookie Northman and I am being held against my will. I am in danger, please…if anyone can hear me…I need help! I lost count about four days in to my captivity. The last thing I remember was shopping. I was grocery shopping. I was walking my cart full of groceries to my car.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was so warm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I remember feeling the sun on my face and smelling the beginning of spring. I was placing the bags in my car, happy to be done so quickly. I hate grocery shopping. I caught a thought…fuzzy, black. It was from the mind of a shifter. I felt a pain in my head, and everything went black.
I lost count about four days in…I'm dirty and I'm hungry and I'm sore. My tormentor is a shifter, his thoughts are not coming in clear to me. Mostly he is thinking about hurting me further. I can feel my love searching for me.
He is searching for me and I am being drugged. My body is numb and I can't feel my emotions. I am trying desperately to call out to my husband, but I can't concentrate. My eyes look like a wild animal's. They are searching for the slightest movement, hoping that I am imagining things, and not that he is coming back in for me.
After the first couple of times my body has become numb to his abuses. I know that he will be quick, he will be unemotional, he will be forceful. The shifter holding me against my will is brief, but he is very good at inflicting pain.
At first he will slap me, hard and authoritative. Next he will force me to the ground and he will bang my head against the floor. The concrete slab of a floor is merciless and cold. It is at this point that I have quickly learned not to fight back, it only causes him to slam my head into the floor more.
He liked it when I was putting up a fight, it apparently turned him on more. It is best for me to just act as though I am passed out. God, my body aches to lose consciousness. I silently cry, praying that he will be done quickly. As it has become routine, after my head hit's the floor, he is slamming himself into me. He is unrelenting as he thrusts his half erect member inside of me.
I can feel every pump, I can feel his hand cover my mouth in order to prevent my cries. I can feel my body tense and cause the pain to be more intrusive. Please, God…just let my mind go dark. I feel as he finishes, his warm poison flowing into my body and spilling onto my flesh. Like every other time, he climbs off of my body, zips his pants, and to prove his dominance, he kicks me as I lay crumpled on the floor.
He takes a syringe and injects a drug that is keeping my mind from calling out to anyone that can save me. I feel like I am drunk, I feel like I have the flu. My body can not take this much longer. I am weak from not eating, I am weak from his torture.
I pray that I can take the easy way out, that one of these times my head will crack on the concrete. My blood and my life flowing out onto the cold, gray floor. That would be too easy. I want my husband, I want my Bonded. I want to call desperately to him. I can't, I try…no noise, no thoughts enter my brain.
I must fight. I must save myself. I need to be strong enough to fight against the drug that is keeping me so incapacitated. The world around me is moving in slow motion, as though everything is on a delay.
My body is so cold, I was stripped of my clothes the day I was brought here. The only thing in this god forsaken room is something that resembles a toilet. It looks medieval, it is disgusting. It is a harsh reminder of my whereabouts. My legs couldn't hold my body up long enough to even use this.
For now I will wait, I will plan, I will dream of beautiful things. I will not give up. I will not break. I will find my way back to my life, my husband, my friends. I know that they are searching for me, I know they are scared. Just a little longer, I can take it just a little longer.
My tormentor enters the room again, only this time he is holding something. What does he have? I am to weak and tired to read his mind. He doesn't come through clear anyway, mostly dark images of what he has done, or plans to do to me. Sometimes that is more horrifying than the actual act itself.
What does he have? He walks to me, sneering down as he watches me tremble and shake on the ground. He grabs a handful on my hair and he yanks me to a standing position. My body screams in pain, it is searing through every muscle. He holds my head by the hair and slaps me with the other hand. My head falls back, I am too weak to try and fight.
Next I get a very clear, very scary image. I know what he is holding and I know that he plans on violating me in a way that I prayed wouldn't happen. I feel the ice cold, steel blade press against my neck. Please, drag it across my throat and end this.
I would have no such reprise. Like usual, I am slammed to the ground, head bouncing off the floor. His usual, half erect penis is at full attention. He is excited about his plans for me. That might be the most frightening part of this ordeal.
I brace myself for what it too come. Crying and shaking as I feel him reach down and turn the knife towards my center. Instead of the steel of the blade, I feel the strong, wide handle attached to this blade.
I feel him plunge the handle end of the knife into my body, he has decided this is best used as a weapon of sodomy. My body has never felt a pain such as this. I can't help it, I scream in pain. He laughs, this urges him on. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping this will block my mind and my memory of what is happening.
Something inside of me snaps. I don't know why, I don't know how, but something took over. I screamed and I screamed, I felt my arms fly up. He was not expecting any sort of strength from my weakened body. I catch the side of his head with my fist and knock him off of me, taking the knife with him.
He is stunned, I need to take advantage of this. I quickly crawl to my feet, pushing my body to move. This is my only chance of survival, I can not let the pain take over. I feel my leg move swiftly as I kick him squarely between the thighs. He cries out as he must now taste his balls in the back of his throat.
He has lost control of the situation, he is unsure whether he should kill me, or punish me for my sudden outburst. It is too late, I have summoned the very last bit of hope and energy I have. I bring my knee to his head and hear him drop the knife accidentally.
With the grace of a falcon, I scoop the knife up. I feel the heaviness of it as I grip my fingers around it. The knife is still warm from being in his hands, and being manipulated into my body.
I don't think, all I feel is the solidity of this blade. I swing my arm above my head and bring the knife down. I plunge it into the side of his neck, hearing his flesh tear as it cuts through his body. The blood that sprays from his neck feels hot against my freezing, naked body. It is like a blanket covering me, enveloping me in it's warmth.
I pull the knife back and bring it down again, this time making sure to pierce his chest. I want him to suffer the way I have suffered. I only wish his pain was prolonged and drawn out, just as mine had been.
He slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds. He is dead, completely and totally dead. I feel nothing. I look at his body, happy to have saved another woman my fate. Just to show my dominance, I kick him as he dies.
I turn my eyes to the door. Freedom, it is the most beautiful thing I have seen. I drag my beaten and bloodied body to that escape, the gateway to my life. I have no idea what day it is, if it is night or day. I can only hope that it is night, I need to feel my husband.
I care nothing about the fact that I am naked. I walk through the door, afraid that as soon as I place my foot on the outside I will be attacked and beaten back inside. I crouch quietly as I muster enough courage move through the doorway. There is nothing, no one waiting for me. It is dark, it seems like a hallway. I feel my way along the wall, silently wishing I could run.
Another door, it is also unlocked. I turn the knob and hold my breath, it makes the loudest creaking noise I have ever heard. It could be my mind being overly sensitive, but that noise must have been heard for miles. I feel the very cool night air nip my body, it is night. I stumble outside, onlookers are staring at me. I am bombarded with their hideous thoughts. No one knows what to do, so they just gawk at me.
Finally a man with enough sense to help me calls 911. My legs finally give out as all of the adrenaline floods out of my body. I feel myself fall to the ground, the sidewalk somehow feels more comfortable than the concrete floor of my prison. My voice is barely audible, my throat is dry and raw from crying and screaming and not having any water. The man leans down and covers me with his coat. I look at him with appreciative eyes. I can't even squeak out a 'Thank You'. Instead all I can say is, 'Northman'.
I hear the screeching of the police siren, it sounds like it is a world away. The voices around me are echoing in my head. I can see their lips moving, but the sound is not with their words. It looks like a bad video relay, when someone is lip-synching, but off by a second.
Suddenly, my feeling begins to change. I am no longer cold, I am no longer afraid. He has felt me, he knows where I am. My mind was alert enough to call for him. The drug is wearing off. He will be with me soon, I can feel it. He is pushing all sorts of emotions through our bond. Relief, rage, sadness, love. He is preparing himself for what he will find.
The man that has covered me with his coat is keeping onlookers away. It is not everyday you see a bloody, naked, blond woman laying on the city street, covered my a man's overcoat.
The police speed to the scene, I hear their tires screech to a stop before us. I hear one of the men call for a bus. It is my experience to know that a bus in these instances is not a big, yellow school vehicle… it is an ambulance.
The police officer walks over to me, cautiously stepping as he can see my mental state is quite volatile. Warmth, it is becoming warmer. Soon, he will be here soon. The problem is I don't even know where "here" is. I can only go on instinct that he has felt me.
Just as I thought the words, I felt it. His presence, he was with me. I didn't have the energy to turn and look at him. I was too afraid to see the way he was looking at me. He could smell me, he could smell my captor…all of him. The police officer bent down and looked in my eyes. He smiled softly, trying to convince me that he was a safe person.
"Miss, everything is going to be ok. We're gonna git you to a hospital. You're safe now, we're gonna help you. Can you tell me your name? Do you know who did this to you?" The police office was using his best inside voice.
"S Soo…Sookie." I could barely get the words out. I picked up my hand and pointed towards the door that I walked out of moments ago. Eric saw me motion to the door and disappeared inside before the police even saw him move.
I knew that when he saw the body of my captor he would be both relieved and angry. He would have enjoyed doing to this man what he had done to me. He would have taken great pleasure in torturing him, violating his body in ways not even his mind would have thought possible.
Eric breathed in the air of my prison cell. He could smell my blood, my tears, my sweat, my body. The scent alone told him everything that had happened to me. His body trembled as he witnessed the horror that I had lived through. He looked at the bloody heap on the floor.
He saw the knife that I used to kill him, he could smell my body on it, mixed with his blood. He picked the knife up and drove it into the body. He was already dead, but the act alone made him release a slight amount of rage. He knew he needed to get out, he could hear the detectives coming in.
I was being loaded into the back of the ambulance. I looked around for him, afraid to be left alone, afraid to be taken somewhere by strangers. He saw my wild eyes and was beside me in an instant. He had not yet spoken a word, he was unable to voice what he was feeling.
My body ached as it shifted when they pushed the stretcher into the truck. I winced as I felt every pain so immensely. The siren blared as we pulled away from the curb, speeding towards the hospital. I felt his hand rest on mine. He took my hand in his and laced his fingers through mine. I finally felt the tears escape my eyes. I was not dreaming, he was really there.
"Eric…" A whisper was all I could get out of my mouth.
"Ssh, do not talk. Do not waste your precious energy on words. I am here my love." He touched his fingers to my lips. He almost pulled back as he felt the cracked, chapped skin of my lips. I closed my eyes and thanked God I was alive.
Nurses and doctors bustled around me. I felt a sharp stick as they drove an IV into my vein. They needed to get me hydrated quickly. Normally, I would have passed on the hospital trip and allowed Eric to heal me. This time was different, strangers had found me and the police were called. I needed to go through the motions, even though I knew Eric was seething with their medical care.
Warming blankets were tossed over my body. I was cocooned in polyester blend, microwavable warmth. At that moment in time it felt wonderful. A nurse looked at me, I could see the pity in her eyes. She has seen so many like me…beaten, bloody, violated. She brushed the hair away from my face, I instinctively flinched. She knew the reason and she reassured me with her words that she would not harm me.
Eric sat in a chair in the corner, not sure if he should cradle me and fly us home, or allow the doctors to care for me the best way they knew how. He watched as the medical staff came and went from my room. I could feel his disgust, if they only knew what his blood could do to help me.
When I was finally on my way to hydrated, given medication for the pain, and a sedative to calm me down, a detective was allowed to enter. She was young, too young to look as hard as she did. She had done this too many times already. I heard her thoughts, I was still to tired and weak to shield. I heard her think about all of the other women that she had seen like me. I heard her remember her own tragedy fifteen years ago. This was the reason she worked this job. She was not only doing it for the victim's, she was doing it for herself.
"Hi Sookie, my name is Jennifer. I'm detective Jennifer Rice, I want to help you. Are you able to talk with me for a few minutes?" Her voice was so soft as she approached me. She knew that it could be very possibly that I would become hysterical and seek shelter inside of my mind.
"It's nice to meet you." I was still a southern girl that was brought up with manners, even in the most difficult of situations. "He is dead, I killed him." There was no point in my trying to hide what everyone already knew. I felt Eric tense next to me as he heard my words, so cold, so distant.
"I know Sookie, the detectives found him. I know that you had to do it, in order to get away. I know it was self defense, we are not looking to press any charges. I'm here to help figure out how this happened, and if he is responsible for other attacks in the area." She smiled at me, making sure I knew that I wasn't in trouble. "A nurse is going to come in here and perform an exam. We need to do this to collect as much evidence as possible. If it's ok with you, we're also going to take some pictures." She waited for my response.
I instantly began crying as I thought of some stranger snapping photo's of my body. I wanted to forget everything, yet they wanted to capture it on film. Eric felt my shame and came to my side. He smoothed my matted hair and kissed my head. He understood that I needed to feel safe and protected.
"Sookie, is it ok if I send the nurse and the medical photographer in?" The detective was keeping with her calm, self assuring demeanor.
As a cheek slid down my bruised face, I nodded my head. "I'm ready, I can do it." I was trying to convince myself that I was speaking the truth.
"Do you want your husband to step outside of the room, would you like a little more privacy?" I had to think about that. I wanted Eric beside me, comforting me, supporting me. But, I could not handle the idea of him actually seeing my body. Seeing what another man had done to me. I hated the idea of him seeing my body, battered and hurt.
"No, he can stay." I needed him more than I needed my pride. I watched as the nurse entered the room, carrying a sealed medical kit. It was the same nurse that had looked at me earlier through pitying eyes. She had a mask on now, covering her mouth and her nose. I watched her as she motioned for me shimmy my way to the end of the bed. It was difficult because of the pain, Eric guided me and helped me.
"Sookie, I am going to try and not hurt you. If you need me to stop at any time just say so. I'm going to attempt to collect as much evidence as possible. Just relax, try not to think about what I'm doing. I'm going to touch you now, ok?" She knew all to well how to approach a victim of this violent crime.
I felt her guide my knee's, allowing them to fall open. The position was painful and embarrassing. I was unable to block her thoughts. I couldn't avoid them if money had been put on me.
Oh sweety I would have killed him too Look what this monster did Poor child is going to be in a lot of pain for a long time Bastard almost tore right through her
Hearing the description of my body through her mind caused me to break down. I let out a sob that caused my whole body to shake. I could feel how much damage had been done, she was only confirming the pain. For some reason, I don't know why, but Eric walked away from my side and looked at me.
I saw his face turn the palest shade of white I have ever seen. My body was overcome by a rage that I had not felt before. I have survived many things in my life. I have been shot, multiple times. I have been beaten and I have been bit in ways no human should have to endure. Christ, I survived a bombing…still, his body was filled with a rage like she had never felt.
He could not believe his eyes. My body was ripped, torn, raw…mangled. My body ached a pain like I had not yet felt. It was not the physical pain of my wounds, it was the pain that I felt when I saw his face. My spirit felt like it was breaking, shattering what was left of myself. I just wanted to cover up and hide.
After he had seen enough of my body, he returned to my side. He laced his fingers through my own and kissed the back of my hand. Sometimes the smallest gesture can make the biggest impression. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my bed, my life, my safety.
I closed my eyes and felt the nurse swab my genital area. I felt her cleaning my wounds and I heard a camera snapping. I could not open my eyes to look at the photographer. I let myself drift into sleep, the sedative taking me away.