Sookie Stackhouse, sitting on her porch swing this evening, is in a very peculiar mood. The bright porch light is the only light source illuminating the area around her home tonight; a full moon is hidden behind gray clouds and darkness surrounds the farmhouse. There is a gentle breeze creating a lull within her. An open bottle of tequila lays half-empty, placed between her legs. She is rocking back and forth, hugging her legs to her chest. She is feeling the full weight of her three decades on Earth tonight. Her body is sore from a twelve hour shift at the restaurant she works at. She feels picked apart from the disparaging looks and comments she had gotten from the business women she waited on this afternoon. She is Tired. She is alone.

For the longest time she had fought to live. While those she loved died, some dying in her defense, some in her place, and some having died trying to end her life (seemingly to save her semi-human soul), she had made it through her every brush with death. It was practically the only thing she knew how to do well.

Sookie Stackhouse, professional Mistress of Death, ladies and gentlemen.

By sinking her teeth into her lip and losing herself in Bill, she had made it through her grandmother's murder. She had swallowed her screams of rage, of pain, and kept living. She had gathered her strength and buried Renee when he finally came for her. She had gotten justice for the one person who had loved her without condition. She had lived!

She had buried Tara, a sister from another mister, who had taken a bullet meant for her. Tara had risen as a vampire, but their friendship had been left among the turned soil Tara rose from. The last she heard of Tara had been from Pam, warning Sookie to let her childer live her vampire life in peace.

She had buried Alcide. A strong and dependable man, who died defending her even when her heart had been lukewarm towards his own. She had never admitted it to anyone, but she knew she had done Alcide wrong. She felt a pressure against her chest as she once more thought about what a waste his death was. Her fault.

She felt the weight of her sins and choices press down on her breasts. She looked at the woods surrounding the Stackhouse farmhouse, willing Death to manifest in front of her eyes, to lock his haunting blue eyes on her and end her sorry existence. Sookie has decided to die. She is tired of just living. She is a waste of life.

Jason had a beautiful family now. A beautiful family he only brought around to visit their spinster aunt Sookie at holidays or when he and his wife wanted a date night. As dumb as people made him out to be, even he had cottoned on to her dark secret. Lafayette was probably the only friend she had left in Bon Temps, but he treated her like one should treat someone with such an intimate relationship with death. He and his vampire boyfriend treated her kindly and with respect when the met, but they kept their distance. Sookie couldn't blame them. They were life personified.

And Eric, her beautiful Viking. He had moved on faster than she could say I'm sorry. She couldn't blame him for getting tired of her insecurity bullshit. Sometimes she tormented herself by watching the local coverage of whatever fundraiser he attended, always with some blonde model clinging to his arm, and a playful twinkle in his blue eyes and a beautiful smirk on his face, as the women around him gushed over him.

Who had she even kidding?

She takes a swing of the tequila.

Men like Eric Northman did not end up with uneducated barmaids like her. Losers like her, with only sweet blood and a gift of telepathy working for (but mostly against) her.

Her eyes close in self-disgust. It didn't stop the tears from tracking down the sides of her face. She loves Eric. She loves him still and it's killing her slowly. She had spent so long confused about what she truly felt and what was an effect of vampire blood, dazed and tormented by the deaths around her, insecure about whom she was: fairy, human, danger whore. She hadn't known her own heart. Now it punishes her disloyalty. It weighs down her chest, sometimes so heavy it fills her eyes with tears and leaves her short of breath.

She feels so lost. She couldn't recognize herself anymore. Sookie Stackhouse, a half-crazy woman, who fucked vampires and shunned good men, only to be dumped time and time again. She was a warning Bon Temp parents gave their rebellious daughters looking for the thrill of dating a vampire. Do you want to end up like that? She was someone who had reached for the stars only to have her hand slapped back down.

The only bright spot she clung to nowadays is the memory of Eric's love. She had felt it swim within her, like a current of warm water sustaining her. She had been loved, truly. She had felt her soul twine with his more strongly than their bodies had twined together. It had been beautiful, even in its shortness. His beautiful smiles and the loyalty had been hers.

No longer. It was time to let go.

Sookie takes several gulps of tequila as a figure emerges from the woods. It locks its supernatural eyes on her. She lets the bottle fall from her hand. She is ensnarled. She welcomes it. She feels the pull of its power slow her heart. As it approaches her and lets out a roar, she spares a moment to wish she had been rich enough to have left some beautiful piece of jewelry for Eric, so he would know she had thought of him, even years after he left. She wishes she could have left her nieces and her nephew more than a worn out house. She hopes her brother finds her last will and testament on the table, so he doesn't have any problem claiming his rights. She hopes he isn't the one to find her.

Her eyes close as she feels teeth sinking into her neck. She floats away.