Chapter 11

That last chapter was a bit short but I thought it was a good place to leave it! Hope everyone is ok. Again just a warning that there are rape references in this fic.

Christine

It was raining, which somewhat scuppered Christine's plan of meeting in a busy café just down the road. The rain had scared the regular studying students away, afraid that their laptops and books would get wet on the way. But Christine was not here to study. Or perhaps she was, in a way. Studying Eric, as she felt that he might have perhaps been studying her.

Nadir came then, interrupting her thoughts. She wondered if he had come far, though she noticed his little white car around the area a lot. Perhaps he studied at the café too.

'Thanks for coming. How are you?' She asked him, flashing a smile she did not feel.

'I'm well thank you, yourself?' He looked sombre, as if regretting the question. She grimaced and flapped a hand. She would be okay.

'So then, what is it I can do for you?' The stalling was somewhat ridiculous as her email had been very explicit in what she wanted. She was half disappointed that he had not compiled a document of some sort – hopefully one several pages long.

She spoke slowly.

'I want…to know about him. Who he is, his story. To start with.'

Nadir nodded.

'You know that Eric and I are close friends. But not, I think, in the way that you and your Meg are friends. We are not confidants'. Christine nodded, although technically, her and Meg were not confidants much these days. Nadir fiddled with a newspaper on the table, turning it over and frowning, not really looking at it.

'To tell you intimate details of his life would be to betray him, in his eyes. It is not a friendship I would want to lose, nor is he a man I would want to cross. As you may know, he can talk well with his fists'. Nadir licked his full lips nervously. Christine was on the edge of her seat, eager for anything he could tell her.

'Here is what I can tell you then. You know that he has come to care for you in a way that you may not be used to, leaving you music and enjoying learning about your life and your habits. He lives and breathes you, if you follow. But he has always done so from afar, not wanting to intrude. When he began to give you music, and heard you sing it so well, it was as though a light had been turned on inside him. He became more like the person he was before the fight, or so I assume; I didn't know him then'. He looked at her, as though waiting for her to say something, which she didn't, hoping he would go on.

'So I have been-oh, thank you'. Their drinks arrived, a black coffee for him and a tea with soya milk for her.

'So I've been sort of…keeping an eye on things, making sure they don't go too far. I don't know what prompted him to give you the music and initiate contact but when I found out I was very concerned. He's an easy housemate but a difficult friend to have when he is angry with you'. Christine nodded, digesting this information. So Nadir had been keeping tabs on her too, but only because Eric had, and he was keeping tabs on Eric.

'Wait a minute…you said housemate. And he was in your garden that day…Does he live with you? Next door to me?' Christine's heart pounded with the thought of him living that close. It felt invasive, for sure.

'No, he just visits me there. He lives elsewhere'. Nadir shook his head and smiled reassuringly. He seemed genuine.

'What can you tell me about what happened to his face?' Nadir's smile faded.

'Ah…Christine, I can't. It wouldn't be fair. I don't know what he has told you about it and I don't want to ruin any illusions you may have of him being a good man-that is to say, he is a good man, but he is…it's complicated'. Christine knew that there was something he was keeping from her then. Eric had told her it had been a knife fight or something like that, back when he was rescuing her from the attacker. When he had blood on his hands.

'…He's violent then?' Christine asked. Nadir seemed at a loss for words.

'He's hurt people before? Has he been to prison for it? Why is he stalking me? Is he dangerous? Nadir, please, you have to help me. I'm so confused about all of this' Christine pleaded. He might be her only source of information on Eric and she was desperate to know what he had hidden from her.

'Christine, I cannot answer all of these questions for you. Deep inside, he is a good person, and you bring that out in him. He believes you to be talented and uniquely beautiful. But he has a darker side, we all do. But his is very strong. He is prone to moods, he likes to get what he wants, and as it appears, he wants you.' Nadir stood up to leave, his beige trench coat draped over his arm like someone twice his age would do. Christine stood too.

'I cannot tell you what to do about this' he continued, giving her an intense look that made her uncomfortable.

'But know this, Christine, he will never, ever hurt you'.

Nadir

He walked away from the table, not stopping to put on his coat until he was outside and already slightly wet. Nadir cursed himself for the situation he had put himself in – smack bang in the middle of a dangerous obsession, not to mention withholding details about a manslaughter from the police, and hiding the fact that Eric did indeed live with him from Christine. Christine would never know that he used the back entrance to their shared house, as her house did not have a usable back entrance, having been left totally overgrown by the landlords.

She noticed him turning the newspaper over, so he thought, but didn't seem to question why. He prayed that she hadn't seen it before he got there, the headline being fairly small as the crime was now older. The story detailed an 'innocent' man being beaten to a pulp in an alley way, then attempting to find his way home, and in his state of concussion, falling down a set of stone stairs near the railway tracks, and dying from a head injury. Whether this made Eric a murderer he didn't know, but he was certainly not going to tell Christine that. What would Eric do if she pushed him away? There was no telling. His obsession ran deep.

Meanwhile…

Christine

Christine turned the newspaper over, and there it was. The face of the man who tried to attack her, right on the front page. Slowly, she read the article without touching the paper, as though it would somehow taint her further by coming into contact with her skin.

Later that night in bed, she wondered if her involvement in all this made her a criminal, which would be ironic considering the man who died was her attempted rapist. He had been found with date rape drugs on him, yet the papers still branded him an innocent man, and named his attacker as the monster. Should she go to the police and tell them what he did? Would this implicate Eric somehow? Should she hand him over?

That night, the nightmares started. She was back in that alleyway by the bar. Only this time, she stood between her attacker, the man who had died, and he still had his injuries, which were oozing blood. He stared at her silently. And on her other side was Eric, or someone who looked like him. Only when the wind blew his hair, and the headlights of a passing car illuminated the scene, he had no face. She glanced down at herself and saw that she was completely naked. The blank hole where Eric's mouth should have been opened, showing no teeth, and tried to swallow her, and the other man, whole.