As always, I am so, so sorry for the wait. Please know that I have every intention of finishing this story. I hope that you all stick with me through to the end.

I feel like this chapter is absolute chaos... but that's just how I could make it happen. Either way, I hope it was worth the wait.

Endless thank you's to my loyal readers and reviewers. You all keep me going. Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think.

Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 27

The nearest emergency room was only two miles from the apartment, yet he could not seem to get her there fast enough. Every pained whimper she emitted in her unconsciousness was a twist of the knife in his stomach.

Any little movement caused her to hurt; any bump in the road...

Erik tried to tune it all out without much success. Back at the apartment, he had not even been able to look at what he was doing when he'd swaddled her nakedness with his suit coat before carrying her to his car. He'd cursed himself once again for this girl making him such a weakling, but he just could not bear to see it anymore. His poor, poor angel…

He drove as fast as he could, bordering on reckless.

It felt like the saddest, most unfair pity in existence to realize that Erik would not be able to sate his bloodlust. No, he would have to do this the correct way: the lawful way. After all Christine had been through… there was no way he could drag her into such a world, the world he had chosen to leave behind. Even now, with his desire to kill worse than it had ever been, he knew he could no longer return to that world either. Not now. And especially not after her.

Erik's movements were robotic as he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the authorities, never taking his eyes off the busy evening road. His words were emotionless and abrupt as he explained to the operator what was going on, and he hung up quickly as soon as he knew officers were on their way to the emergency room.

Christine whined much louder than before, and he assumed she was waking up. He shushed her gently, stepping harder on the gas and weaving through the traffic impatiently.

Erik wondered if she could even hear him as he said quietly, "You are all right, Christine. You are going to be okay."

He also wondered if he was more reassuring himself rather than her.

Everything hurt. Aching, burning, stinging, throbbing, stabbing, swelling. Any and all movement made her more aware of it, and she tensed up more and more to try to stay perfectly still. Nothing helped. The effort hurt too, of course. Surely death was not supposed to hurt this bad. Which meant only one thing...

Christine had failed. She was still alive.

She moaned in agony, praying that she was alone, that… he hadn't come for her again. Her pounding head swam, but for some odd reason her broken body felt warmer than she had remembered. Fabric that had not been on her before she went under was wrapped around her securely, and she realized she was not lying on the cold floor anymore.

Had he brought her upstairs?

Anxiety crept up, and then she thought she heard a male voice speak to her. She could not make out the words, but still she panicked.

"No," Christine gasped, weakly raising her hands to her face as if that would somehow protect her. "Go away. Leave me alo—"

Nausea quieted her immediately. For she had moved too much, and was going to throw up again if she did not stay still. She already felt too exhausted to keep fighting, but she was so afraid…

Someone shushed her, and then the voice that filled her head was instantly calming.

"Calm, my dear. The worst is over now. I will never let anyone harm you again."

Her previously destroyed faith resurfaced—for surely the voice that spoke to her now was that of God. There was no way another voice could be so beautiful. But it was also familiar, somehow... had she heard that voice before?

Christine attempted to open her eyes. Vision blurred, she could make out that it was dark wherever she was, with brief flashes of light every few moments that made her squint. Trying to focus on anything made her head hurt worse. She whimpered in effort, ultimately deciding to keep her eyes closed. They were no use.

"Almost there, angel," the voice consoled her again.

Almost where? Was God taking her to heaven? She still hurt as if she were in hell, still remembered the hell she had been through.

Christine had not realized she had been in motion until she felt complete stillness save for the rise and fall of her chest, and soon, her body was being lifted into someone's very thin arms. Though bony and uncomfortable, the arms were gentle, but she still could hardly handle the pain of being moved. The intensity of it almost brought her under again.

New voices appeared around her. They sounded professional, though slightly distressed, and most definitely normal, rough, human voices. It was not long before the thin arms that held her transferred her to another uncomfortable surface. Strangely, her body stayed in motion, and she realized the surface had wheels that squeaked as they moved.

A few sets of footsteps followed. Christine was finally able to make out the words being said all around her.

"What's wrong with her, sir?" a deep, female voice asked.

"She needs… medical assistance immediately."

"We are aware, sir. What happened?"

"Assault. She was assaulted by a man. The authorities have already been informed."

"Sir, was she sexually assaulted?"

Silence.

The female voice became impatient. "Was she raped, sir? We need to know immediately."

"Yes," he hissed. "Yes, she was. Help her, now."

No… oh, no. Please…

Reality sunk in. She recognized to whom that voice belonged. It was not God, and she was far from heaven.

She did not know of which she felt more: relieved, or horrified.

Erik had come for her. He had saved her. He had found her... oh, no.

Christine blinked her blurry eyes open, the lights on the moving ceiling far too bright and making her head ache worse. She moaned, defeated as she shut them again, suffering in more ways than one. Wondering if she still preferred death to anything else…

"Sir, we are going to have to ask you to stay out in the waiting room while we treat the patient. There will be paperwork for you to fill out there."

She wanted to thank the woman, whoever she was, but she couldn't find the words over her pounding head.

"I will not let her out of my sight."

"We cannot allow that, sir. Without consent of the patient, only direct family members will be allowed to see her after treatment. No one will be with her during treatment. We have to protect her privacy; it's the law."

Erik's voice got harsher. "She has no family. I will not allow her to be alone." His tone made it clear that he was not going to budge.

The woman and Erik continued to argue back and forth, and Christine knew she had to brave the hurt and speak up.

"Er...ik?" she managed to whimper.

The wheels—of the gurney, she had figured out—stopped. She was surprised they had been able to hear her.

"Christine," Erik sighed in relief. She felt his cool fingers against her cheek for the briefest of seconds.

"Sir, you cannot follow beyond this point. I'm going to have to ask you to wait in the lobby."

"I have made it very clear that I—"

Christine was able to speak clearer, though it hurt fiercely. "Don't follow—ah!" She clutched at her head, having to say the rest through clenched teeth. "Listen to her. Wait for me out there. You'll see me… after."

No response.

The woman urged Erik again, her tone losing patience. "Sir, if you want her to receive the help she needs, please go into the lobby and fill out her paperwork."

"Fine," Erik snapped.

Christine could hear his steps fade away, though part of her wanted to stop him and say so many things… but the doors before her opened, and the emergency room staff took her through.

When he came to—coughing in pain at his neck wounds and fuming over what had happened—Sky knew he had a very important, immediate decision to make. He had no time to think about who his attacker had been, or about the fact that if he went down to the basement he would find Christine gone. No, he could be pissed about all that shit later.

First things first, he dizzily rose to his feet and stumbled to the kitchen for water. His throat burned in more ways than one, and as he drank down two full glasses, he considered his options.

Of course there was the running option, and then there was the play innocent and face possible consequences option. Sky figured it was only a matter of time before the cops would show up at his place, so he had to decide fast.

Running was definitely out. Sky knew that it would be the dumbest decision he could possibly make. If he ran, he was automatically guilty. His apartment would be searched and all of his camera and audio footage would be found, and he could not have that. Plus, he just didn't want to run. He had never been that type. Still, he was nothing if not thorough, and it was an option to consider if even for a short minute.

But he couldn't let himself lose his life over this shit, and if he ran, he would lose everything over nothing. It was all a misunderstanding… and this was just a pause on his perfect life and future marriage with Christine. They would get back where they needed to be soon. This just had to blow over…

With twitching hands, Sky removed every SD card from every camera he had. It wouldn't take very long to erase all the footage from them, but he still rushed through it, making sure to be thorough. The next order of business was to completely erase all video and audio footage he had already stored to his computer and phone. Those did not take too long either, but what took the longest was getting rid of that software altogether. He couldn't unclench his teeth while waiting for it to uninstall from his devices.

Sky breathed a sigh of relief when it was all gone, knowing that at least he wouldn't have to worry about any of it being used for evidence or something. If it even came to that. Surely it wouldn't…

And then he remembered the basement, and ran down in a panic to get rid of the chains and clean up all of the bodily fluids, cursing to himself all the while around painful coughs. Thank fucking Christ he had thought to install storage space underneath the floorboards to hide everything back when he first set up the basement.

After all of that was taken care of, he cleaned himself up and threw on a shirt and sneakers, comforting himself with the reminder that he had an excellent lawyer and no criminal record. The state he lived in was still pretty conservative; whatever his punishment might be, if he even got one, it couldn't be too bad.

Not like hers is going to be.

Sky balled his hands into fists. He had never been so pissed off in his life. How could she do this to him? After how well he had treated her all this time? All he had done for her? She was the one who made him lose his temper! She could have had it all. He would have given her anything she wanted. She was to blame. Not him. It wasn't his fault.

None of it was his fault.

A pounding on the door let him know it was time, and he took a moment to collect himself before answering it.

The waiting room felt like purgatory.

Erik paced like a madman. He was fleetingly glad that it was empty save for him and the staff behind the counter. The last thing he needed was to lose his temper over people staring at him like the freak he was.

It was taking much too long to hear more about Christine's condition. The police had arrived earlier, just as he was finishing her admission paperwork. They had taken Erik's story and spoke with the receptionist at the front desk, confirming that it was a sexual assault case. That would be enough to arrest the man, one of the officers assured Erik, however it did not mean he would definitely go to prison. They would have to wait for a trial.

The thought of that monster walking free had Erik tasting metal on his tongue.

When the officer had questioned Erik about his role in everything, he told—mostly—the truth. He was a concerned professor who had suspected Christine was involved in an abusive relationship. He told about how Christine had dropped subtle hints that she needed help and that she must have been much too afraid to be direct about it. He peppered in a few lies here and there so his obvious stalking would not be suspected.

When the officer asked if she had any family they could call, Erik told him her circumstances.

"I will make sure she is taken care of," Erik had then said with intensity. "She is my student. I will not allow her to suffer over anything ever again."

The officer had blinked at him. "We will discuss this with the girl to see what she wants to do, sir."

Erik had tried to keep a level head. He took a breath, and nodded once. "As you should."

His stomach had twisted at the thought that she might reject his help. She did not seem to be the prideful type, and he could not think of what else she could do. But there was the possibility that she found him repulsive… why would she not? And why would she be willing to trust a man after what she had been through?

No… he could not think that way. She asked him for help. He helped her. She needed him now more than ever. They had an otherworldly connection through music. She would be grateful…

After the receptionist had gotten off the phone with one of the emergency personnel, she told the officer that Christine had been in a lot of pain and the medication they gave her had her sleeping deeply. He would have to come back tomorrow to get her story. The officer understood, and then he was on his way with a promise to return in the morning.

It had been an hour since he left, and Erik feared he would go mad. What could the incompetent staff possibly be doing for him to have to wait this long? More than once he stormed to the receptionist and demanded to know what was going on, but she always requested that he just be patient; the staff was likely assessing all of her injuries and writing up a report.

Patient? Hah. Yes, Erik could be patient while waiting for the love of his existence to be treated for the horrible trauma that she had been through. He could be patient all the while not knowing for certain that the center of his universe would live or die. How simple.

When, at last, the same nurse that had received Christine in the first place—and that he had argued with—came into the waiting room, Erik had to fight to refrain himself from sprinting over to her.

"It is about time," he growled. "Is she going to be all right?"

The nurse's tone was professional, but she was obviously annoyed at his rudeness. "Yes, sir, she will heal," she said shortly. "Now, we asked her who she wanted as her primary emergency contact since she has no family, and she said you. Do you want to know the details of her injuries, sir?"

He could have very nearly wept in relief at that one detail. However, his pessimism chimed in too soon with it is only because she has no one else.

The nurse went on after he nodded once, oblivious to his inner confliction. She listed all of Christine's injuries, and each one was a sharp jab in his gut. His nausea returned at her more intimate damages, and he feared he would vomit hearing them out loud. He had to force himself to take in even breaths as he listened. Otherwise he would suffocate.

"Now, I must make you aware," the woman continued without a break, "that we unfortunately do not offer an oral contraceptive to sexual assault victims. Our hospital director has been trying to get it approved through the state but they have not as of yet. You are going to have to discuss and take care of this with the victim yourself."

Erik's lack of face heated beneath his mask. He had to sit down in the nearest chair. The nurse followed.

"I know," she seemed to understand his horror. She lowered her voice, and it took on a less professional route. "It disgusts me personally, which is why I always bring this up with the person of contact. Some other staff here might not even bother."

"Despicable," Erik muttered, sounding a bit choked.

"I agree, sir."

"When can I see her?"

"We moved her to a private room in the hospital wing. Room 312. You can go there now if you want to. Visiting hours are over, but I already told the receptionist there that the patient wanted you to be there when she woke up."

His aching heart swelled. "She—she does?"

"Yes, she specifically requested we let you stay with her as soon as possible."

Erik almost bolted right out, but he paused. "Thank you, Madame…?"

"Rhonda," she offered, half smiling at him for the first time.

"Rhonda. I thank you."

Erik dialed Nadir as soon as he was outside, making his way to the hospital's main entrance. The old man answered on the second ring.

"Erik? What's wrong?" Khan's distress was likely due to the late hour.

"Khan… I—" Oh, now he had to get all choked up? Erik cleared his throat, willing himself to speak. "Nadir, she… the girl. She is hurt. In the hospital."

"Who is, Erik? Oh! The woman you…uh…? Oh, no. What happened?"

"I cannot explain right now," Erik said impatiently. "Will you take Sasha for a bit? I will not leave her side."

"Yes, of course, Erik. Is she going to be okay?"

Erik could hear the desperate curiosity in the man's tone, and it annoyed him to no end.

"Yes," he hissed. "Go get him now. The key is beneath the mat." And then he hung up, unwilling to hear Nadir's response.

The receptionist inside the hospital gave him no trouble and even gave him directions on how to get to Christine's room. He thanked her quickly and dashed to the sleek elevator, ignoring any people he passed by and avoiding their questioning glances. Once on the mostly empty third floor, it was easy enough to find her room, the door wide open and just waiting for him to step through.

Inside, it looked as cold as it felt: everything in various shades of white and blue. The temperature was set even lower than he kept his house; of that he was certain. He viciously hated that his warm, perfect Christine had to wake here. Had to be in here at all. He shut the door firmly behind him.

When he saw her there—lying in that bed, bruised, bandaged, drugged into deep sleep—he could not control his response. He forgot that he was unworthy of even looking at such a deity, let alone touching one, and he reached out. Trembling fingers stroked her brow, her cheek, her swollen, parted lips. Christine's breath tickled his cold skin, and it was then that he knew for certain he would die if he ever left her side again. Erik fell to his knees, grasping desperately at the hand that did not have an IV attached to it, attempting to catch his breath.

The warmth of her hand did not compare to the heat of the tears he could not stop from falling out of his eyes, and pathetic sobs overtook him. He let them, knowing he could not stop them if he tried, and buried his masked face into the edge of the hard mattress she laid on. Allowing the grief to consume him completely, he whispered her name like a prayer over and over again.