The True Death: Tara Thornton

The True Death
Chapter 3: Tara Thornton

“My life is so fucking hard,” Tara sighed, thinking about the changes in Bon Temps since she’d left. Sookie’s house was newly remodeled. It had been just over a year since she’d destroyed it herself. She couldn’t be responsible for that though. After all, she’d been possessed by a Maenad. Nor could she be held responsible for any of the other trainwrecks that seemed to follow her around. “I can’t believe that Sookie would even talk to that vampire, after all he did to everyone else. Never mind the fact that he saved her ass. What about what he did to Lafayette?”

She decided to drown her sorrows in some booze at Merlotte’s. When she arrived there, she was stopped by a familiar face as she stepped out of her car.

Her too-hot cage fighting girlfriend, Naomi, from New Orleans. Tara looked her up and down, glad to have a bit of what she felt was her real life there to ground her. Being in Bon Temps always made her feel all kinds of fucked up.

“Wanna wrestle?” Naomi purred, completely over the fact that Tara had lied to her for no reason in a matter of hours.

“Hell yeah,” Tara growled back, tackling in her in the parking lot. She pulled Naomi forcefully into her arms and kissed her, hard, letting her know how much she’d missed her. They ended up pushed up against a dumpster making out, feeling each other up and rubbing against each other.

“Baby, I think those hillbillies are looking for a show,” Naomi whispered, looking over Tara’s muscled shoulder.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at?” Tara shouted at Bud Dearborn.

“This is a family restaurant Ms. Thornton,” Bud said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Why don’t you take that somewhere else?”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, you racist cracker,” Tara said, certain that the former sheriff was out to get her, not because she was being lewd in public, but because of the colour of her skin.

“There are things that I’d like to do to you, Tony – or Tara – whoever you are, but I don’t want an audience,” Naomi whispered. “Let’s go inside and you can buy me a drink.”

“How about six? You’re gonna need them,” Tara snorted. “This town is fuckin’ fucked up.”

They made their way into the door and sat down in a booth. Jessica Hamby brought them over a menu, but she got a weird look on her face and ran out the door without another word.

“What was that?” Naomi asked.

“A new vampire,” Tara said flatly.

“A what?”

“You heard me.”

“Holy shit. You have a vampire waitress? Isn’t pretty far out in the sticks for that?” Naomi was truly surprised. Most vampires lived closer to major cities where there were businesses that catered to their need for things that were open over night.

“I told you, this place is fucked up. Sookie’s neighbor is a vampire. She let him take her virginity.”

“Shit, no?”


“What’s a Sookie, though?”

“She was my best friend,” Tara said sadly. “Things are…different now. A lot of shit happened to me. To this town. That changed everything. I can’t be her friend if she’s going to keep associating with those fucking blood suckers.”

“We’ll I don’t blame you for wanting to get away from all this,” Naomi said with a giggle. “I can’t wait to get you back to New Orleans and out of this swamp, Tony.”

“It’s Tara.”

She shook her head, and ran her finger up Tara’s arm. “I like Tony better.”

“Lesbians!” Some awful stereotypical Southerner screamed, most likely Tommy in a Sam suit in ghost form.

“Can’t even get a drink,” Tara sighed. “See what I mean?”

“Well, that doesn’t explain why you lied about your name, or the state you were from, but I like your ass, so I won’t worry about that too much,” Naomi whispered in her ear.

Tara was met by an overwhelming urge to bite, fuck, and rub herself all over Naomi.

“I know where the store room is. You wanna go check it out?”

“Yeah, baby. Why not?” Naomi said, rubbing Tara’s ass in the booth.

Unconcerned with the hygienic ramifications of fucking in a room where food was stored, because she didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything, but herself, Tara led her girlfriend with the six pack abs to the room where they stored the six packs and pickles.

A few yards away, another Tara, the true Tara, waited, watching, hiding with the meat in the freezer. She’d been waiting for this day for four seasons, which was like six weeks in Bon Temps time. She’d managed to escape from the evil man who’d held her hostage by lulling him to sleep with talk of his favorite subject, Bill Compton and his furry chest. Clearly the man had terrible taste. Tara had seen what he was forcing Sookie and Eric to dress in, and what he’d done to Pam, and she was appalled.

She watched through the window in the walk-in cooler until she saw crazy Tara and a woman make their way to the store room, groping each other and flirting. She didn’t hold back the growl that bubbled up from deep inside. He’d made her a lesbian. A black, man hating, vampire killing lesbian. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

She had wanted to kill him, but she knew better than to bite the hand that feeds. He’d told her about the fat pay checks crazy Tara had been earning for her, so she let him live. Though she had kicked him in the head a couple of times on her way out of the production trailer he’d kept her in. No, killing this other Tara would be even better. Bitch had ruined her good reputation as a good Southern woman. If this reality was allowed to continue, she’d never marry sweet, but simple, JB, and she couldn’t let that happen. He needed someone to take care of him.

She’d managed to steal a pair of nunchuks from the prop closet of the Karate Kid, the new remake, not the awesome original. She still didn’t understand why they’d remade such a classic. Even though she wasn’t exactly sure how to use the nunchuks, she figured she could learn. Or that she’d somehow instinctively know, since the other her was a bad ass cage fighter.

Or, she figured, she could just use the element of surprise to her advantage. As Tara and Naomi mastered the scissor position on the turnips, Good Tara ran out of the freezer, and with a mighty Rebel yell, she leaped at the two of them. With a great deal of adrenaline and Starbucks caffeine from Craft Services, she started swinging with everything she had.

Despite being a bad ass cage fighter, Naomi screamed like a baby and ran away, knocking over a giant tub of ketchup as she scrambled through the door. She was really and truly shocked and appalled at the small town that her beloved Tony had come from, but, like two apples from the same barrel, she was also a self-involved twat, only concerned with herself.

Tony was better off here, she told herself, as she stole her car and drove off like a bat out of hell into the night. These crazy fuckers were her kin, after all.

Fake Tara was too stunned to move. She laid, sprawled out, with her pants down on top of the turnips, looking at the far more logical, intelligent, non-scene hogging version of herself.

“Tara-Tony,” the real Tara said. “You’re a poor excuse for a human, let alone me. I’ve come to put an end to your flat acting and ridiculous perpetuation of stereotypes.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not you. I can’t be you. We’re nothing alike,” Tara said, shaking her head bitchily.

“My point exactly.”

Fake Tara huffed and stood up, pulling her hot pants up and straightening her shirt. “Bitch, you don’t know me. I’ve been kicking major ass in the fighting circuit down in New Orleans. I’ll kick your ass.”

“Really?” True Tara chuckled. She knew it was all acting. “I grew up here fighting with Jason Stackhouse and sticking up for Lafayette and Sookie. They might have told you what my life was like, but I lived it. I think I can take you.” She dropped into the fighting stance she’d learned years ago to protect her friends and motioned at the actress to bring it.

Pow! Good Tara cracked Stereotype Tara in the jaw!

Wam! She kicked her in the head!

Bam! Right in the ass!

Kapow! Nunchucks to the throat!

Bam thwapp pow zlonk pow sock!*

Dust bunnies flew and cans of chili and nacho cheese bounced on the floor. And that was the end of Tara “Bitch, Please,” Thornton.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and a bewildered blonde stood there, jaw agape.

“What the fuck?” Sookie stepped over Tara: Version Suck, staring in confusion at Tara Thornton-Du Rone. She recognized the woman with the nunchuks, but couldn’t place her. Tilting her head and studying her for a moment, Sookie grinned as tears came to her eyes.

“Tara, is that,” she rubbed them. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

Tara wrapped her arms around Sookie and stroked her hair. “It’s me, Sookie. I’m so sorry. This awful man, Alan was holding me hostage, and I couldn’t get to you. I tried so hard, but he just kept telling me, this is what the public wants.”

“You’re the best friend I ever had. Why would he think that? I can’t believe I let that other Tara into my life. It was just like, one day you were gone, and she was there sayin’ she was you, and all the voices in my head were so confusing, so I just let it slide. But she wasn’t half the Tara you are. She didn’t even own a clothing store that gave me discounts. She just trashed my house and cussed at me.” Sookie looked down. “Have you seen what I’ve been wearing? I’ve been forced to have sex with all these vampires in the dirt because I didn’t have any sexy lingerie for them to tear that I wanted seen on camera. You should have seen what he made me wear to Club Dead.”

“I know,” Tara Thornton-Du Rone sobbed. “He made me watch every second of it.”

Sookie held her true, non-scene-hogging friend out at arms length and looked at her. It was so good to see her again. “So you’re back for good?”

She glanced around. “I don’t know what will happen if he finds me. He didn’t think I was melodramatic enough to be a part of your life”

“S’okay,” Sookie whispered, her eyes darting around the store room at Merlotte’s. “I’ll protect you. I’ve got a plan for him.”

Amnesia Eric poked his head into the store room and locked it behind him. “Is he here?”

“No, baby. I don’t think so,” Sookie whispered, rubbing her viking’s arm. “You can be yourself for a minute.”

Eric took an unnecessary sigh and sat down in Sam’s task chair. “Lover, if I have to be nice to Bill for one more minute…”

“I know,” Sookie sighed, exchanging a look with the gorgeous man she’d been denied passionate sex with just the night before. “It’s just all so fucked up. Just remember, we’ve got a plan.”



OMG that felt so good! We originally planned to kill her with a SRI (sex related injury) which also would have been awesome, but we decided that book Tara deserved the honor of taking back her life.

Thanks again for reading. See you next week – we hope we haven’t scared you off!

*Words taken from Adam West’s Batman. No copyright infringement intended.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s