Authors Note: The next three chapters are a flashback. You'll get Ash's story before Bon Temps, her past with Eric. If you're not interested and prefer to continue reading directly: Chapter 12: Nothing but Pie. Remember: Share, Comment, Like, and Vote!

Loud honking startled me.

A glance to the left revealed that the hustle and bustle on the main street had hardly been interrupted by the noise. New York. Everything was loud. Always and everywhere.

From my vantage point, leaning against a trash container in an alley, I could make out a taxi driver who had stormed out of his car. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to yell at a disbelieving bike courier. His face was contorted with anger, and the young bike courier responded to the public humiliation with a motivated chin punch.

I instinctively pulled my shoulder up. Ouch.

I wasn't the only one who had witnessed the altercation. Attracted by the commotion, people in the vicinity stopped and turned their heads. Others hurried along even more to escape the scene of the argument and disappeared into the shadows of the night. I however wanted to see the end of the story.

The taxi driver held a hand over his mouth, his body bent, while the bike courier stared completely shocked at his clenched fist. Then his gaze became empty: Odd. Except for me, no one seemed to be watching the face of the young man (he couldn't really be older than nineteen) but instead were focused on the taxi driver awaitinf, with increasing tension in the air, the man's reaction. Everyone except the bike courier.

With an empty look, he struck again and hit the man with such force that he collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Shocked gasps and general discomfort spread. The young man, as if controlled remotely, got on his bike again and rode off with a leisurely pace, no emotionover what had just happened visible on his face. I frowned. Maybe he was on drugs.

Still pondering the scene, I made my way home. Cold began to creep into my limbs as my black leather jacket wasn't really equipped to ward off the damp autumn weather – But at least it looked stylish though.

Dark alleyways swallowed me up as I continued to ponder, chewing on my lower lip. Since watching that peculiar encounter a few minutes ago, the nagging feeling of déjà vu wouldn't leave me, and I racked my brain trying to understand why I felt so off track. The taste of honey spread on toast tickled in my mouth, and for a moment, I felt transported back to a time when everything was still okay. When I sat with my mother on the veranda of our small house in the South, watching the sunset behind the fields. When light clouds broke the sunlight into pink clouds, and a gentle warm breeze blew my hair from my face. I could still hear her, my mother's voice as she hugged me and whispered softly in my ear, "My little sunshine!"

I blinked. Abruptly, I was back in New York after my keys slipped from my hand and fell loudly to the floor in the foyer. I stood on the ground floor of my apartment building, trying to open the security door when my neck hairs stood on end.

It was quiet. Completely and utterly silent.

One had to know, in New York, it was never quiet. Especially not in such a large old apartment complex like ours. There was always someone walking the halls, indulging in some intoxication. Or at least a crying baby. But today - nothing.

That aerie feeling intensified.

As quietly as possible, I turned the lock and looked at the broken elevator. The light was out, and the doors were half open. I knew I shouldn't look inside, but my damn curiosity won out, taking over, and before I could consciously make a decision, I stuck my head through the elevator doors hanging ajar. I managed to turn my rising scream into a choked gasp just in time. Tears welled up in my eyes and ran down my cheeks.

Tom, my boyfriend with whom I shared an apartment in this building, lay slumped on the floor of the elevator, his neck shredded and his eyes cold and staring. My knees gave way beneath me, and I stumbled half-blindly into the interior of the elevator.

Overwhelmed by my emotions, I collapsed next to him on the floor and clung to his shirt. Why did this happen? My brain seemed unable to understand the situation before me and threw absurd questions at me, one after the other, questions I couldn't answer.

Why?
How?
Who?
When?
Was it my fault?
Could I have done something to prevent it?
Would I be blamed?
Should I call the police?
Or an ambulance?
Who would bury him?
Would he want to be cremated or buried?
Could I still do something?
Could I afford it?
Where was James?
What was going on here?

I held his face on both sides and leaned forward to dry my tears on his shirt. His skin under my fingers still felt warm, so I collapsed exhausted on his chest and rested my head on his shoulder. His blood-splattered, sticky, and silent chest.

The usually steady background noise of his heartbeat was absent, and once again, I lost control of my composure and sobbed loudly, throwing my head back and freezing.

His blood was splattered on the elevator walls and slowly, viscously dripped towards the ground.Only now did I realize that the blood splatters, as long as they were still slowly spreading inside the elevator, must still be fresh. So fresh that the murderer couldn't be far away. Panic set in, pushing the grieve aside to choak me instead.

As if on cue, unfamiliar voices sounded from the stairwell, and I tensed up. My heart beat so fast it hurt. The edges of my vision blurred in sync with the rapid rhythm of my heart - I held my breath.

"...didn't think he would be so STUPID."

The voice speaking was strong and pleasant. Each word carried an authority that managed to touch me even here, in this twisted, terrible situation.

"The way you phrase it makes it sound like you think humans are smart!"

The second voice belonged to a woman. She sounded deeply bored and arrogant at the same time.

A deep, throaty laugh echoed, sending shivers down my spine. "The absence of stupidity is not intelligence, Pamela. What I meant was that this seemed to be a particularly low specimen of his species...", the voice to which the deep laughter belonged explained.

She spoke with a disgust that made me feel attacked automatically. "That's why YOU could have acted a little smarter anyway," she criticized. "Now I have to spend half the night cleaning up your mess. Really, Eric, we're not in the Middle Ages anymore, where you could just fuck and kill people as you pleased. There are cameras, security guards... a murder like this will be noticed! Even in New York..."

Then she laughed emotionlessly. "For your hundreds of years of age, you sometimes have some serious lack of selfcontrol... "

I only vaguely caught their words as my blood pulsed so loudly through my veins that my vision blurred, but it was futile anyway. I must have misunderstood things.

"He provoked me!" the man justified himself.

"You're acting like a baby! Haven't you learned anything about showing restraint?"

Her response was irritated and sour. Although I had no picture of the person, I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. His voice became teasing. "You know I have self-control when it matters!"

"Jeeez, Eric. I'm sure by now even your ego must be satisfied after having heard that you're good in bed for about a millenia? This is not about me stroking your god damned ego!"

"Once more won't hurt!"

"Are you sure? I think you need someone to bring your ass back down to earth every now and then."

He snorted. "There are some much more fun things to do for my ass around here... "

The woman sighed. "I already know why I prefer women now. Another guy like you around me? Give me a wooden stake!"

How could they be talking about sex now? What kind of ice-cold sick people must they be to talk about sex after a murder like this? After a murder like this, or any murder at all. I had seen my share of misery in the world at twentytwo, even dead bodies, but what was happening behind me no longer matched the norm.

Suddenly, I became aware of my situation again. My situation being the confinement of the space in which I was trapped with my dead lover. Where his warm blood still ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Dripped onto my clothes and the smell of iron penetrated my senses, invading my lungs and taste buds. Freaking once more, I pulled myself up. In my attempt to get up quickly, I stepped on Tom's hand. A disgusting crunch echoed in the elevator, turning my stomach. With the heel of my shoe, I had crushed his hand bones.

The footsteps outside stopped abruptly.

"Did you hear that?" the woman's voice asked.

"No."

"You still have blood in your ears..."

"Pam..."

"Yes, there's a heartbeat!"

"There are heartbeats everywhere. We're in the damn city!"

"We usually live in a big city too!"

"Shreveport is different! It's... okay, calling it charming might be going a bit too far. But it's more spacious."

The woman snorted. "And full of hillbillies."

The man grumbled. "Yes, they are almost too easy to manipulate. God, hunting them almost bores me..."

Oh God, they were some sick Southerners who made human hunting their sport. Why else would Tom now be dead at my feet on the floor? I must have gasped in shock, because the conversation outside fell silent abruptly.

"Okay, now that I heard it too!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Panicked, I looked around. There was nowhere I could hide. We were in a damn elevator.

I did the only thing that came to mind to avoid facing those two murderers directly. I stood sideways next to the door and prayed to all the gods that came to mind in a hurry that they would overlook me. You never knew who was listening.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" the man's voice whispered deeply. Teasingly. Under different circumstances, I might have described it as sexy, but facing death, all I could hear was how psychotic he was. He was playing with his food. Me.

"Eric, we don't have all day. In six hours, we have an audience with Sophie-Ann, about the 'big revelation,' and before that, I wanted to get out of my soiled dress. Thanks for that, by the way..." she hissed.

"I'll buy you a new one!"

"Chanel!"

The man growled. "Whatever, but before that, please just clean up 'upstairs' and then wait by the car. I need to take care of this."

A bubble of chewing gum burst.

"Fine by me. Hurry up."

"Always."

"Ha!"

Then followed a hissing sound like a rushing train before a threatening silence spread.

My heart in my chest threatened to burst. Rushing. That was all I could still hear. What I could still see. The rushing of my blood in a pace that threatened to leave me unconscious.

Okay. That was it. My last minute on this earth. I felt surprisingly fine with it. After all, I wouldn't have to endure much longer the gaping pain that Tom's sudden death had ripped open when I have just found him. I would find peace. After the terrors of my life, even though I wasn't sure it would be granted, I would really like to experience peace. I closed my eyes.

I'm coming, my dearest.

The button for the elevator doors was pressed, and with a loud ding, they slid aside as I held my breath and could do nothing but wait.