Sookie Stackhouse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justsookie) wrote2015-05-12 06:08 pm
justsookie) wrote2015-05-12 06:08 pm
Entry tags:
memories like embers keep us
When Sookie had returned to her apartment the evening after first discovering that Jason had vanished, she had very carefully prepared herself for bed. Stepped in the shower, mind unfocused and movements aimless, letting the hot water run over her body until she was pink from the heat of it. She had slipped quietly under her sheets, leaned over to her nightstand, making sure to set an alarm for the next day.
She was going into Semele's, because she needed the work to keep her hands occupied, to lose herself in mindless work that wouldn't give her the time or energy to focus on Jason's disappearance.
She didn't have time for five stages of grief. She wanted it done, finished, over with so that she could go back about her day and start to figure out exactly how she was supposed to go on now that her anchor was missing. Now that family wasn't a thing that Darrow supplied.
For the first few hours, it worked. She rushed about with twice the speed that she normally had on her feet, working herself to the bone and sustaining more than a few bruises as she bumped into chairs and tables. But it was good, hard work, the sort that her parents had taught her to appreciate, and never before had she been so glad for the thick skin she'd developed over years of working at Merlotte's.
And then suddenly, it was too much. A customer who had heard the news. A regular, who stopped by Semele's every week for a Bloody Mary — heavier on the blood than most — and had left ten times the usual amount of tip with a kind note scribbled on the check. Her hands had shook, avoiding the touch of the paper as though it would make everything even more real, and before Sookie could snap back to, somehow, she had made it past the flurry of faces and to the outside alley, breath wheezing as she leaned up against the wall and slid slowly to the ground.
Get a grip, she wanted to tell herself, though all that came out was another gasp.
She was going into Semele's, because she needed the work to keep her hands occupied, to lose herself in mindless work that wouldn't give her the time or energy to focus on Jason's disappearance.
She didn't have time for five stages of grief. She wanted it done, finished, over with so that she could go back about her day and start to figure out exactly how she was supposed to go on now that her anchor was missing. Now that family wasn't a thing that Darrow supplied.
For the first few hours, it worked. She rushed about with twice the speed that she normally had on her feet, working herself to the bone and sustaining more than a few bruises as she bumped into chairs and tables. But it was good, hard work, the sort that her parents had taught her to appreciate, and never before had she been so glad for the thick skin she'd developed over years of working at Merlotte's.
And then suddenly, it was too much. A customer who had heard the news. A regular, who stopped by Semele's every week for a Bloody Mary — heavier on the blood than most — and had left ten times the usual amount of tip with a kind note scribbled on the check. Her hands had shook, avoiding the touch of the paper as though it would make everything even more real, and before Sookie could snap back to, somehow, she had made it past the flurry of faces and to the outside alley, breath wheezing as she leaned up against the wall and slid slowly to the ground.
Get a grip, she wanted to tell herself, though all that came out was another gasp.