Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 33

When Christine emerged from her therapy session, her state worried Erik. She'd clearly been crying, and her demeanor seemed drained and defeated. While she attempted to assure him that she was all right, Erik still had an unpleasant feeling all the way home, knowing she was lying. How he wished he could have been inside that office, listening to all the things she would not talk to him about. Perhaps if he knew, he could help her in some way.

When they returned home, Christine prepared and ate her dinner quietly, her eyes far away all the while. Erik—somewhat desperately—offered to play for her when she finished. She agreed, offering him the smallest of smiles, and accompanied him to the music room. She curled up on the chair and watched him tiredly, and Erik gulped before taking his seat at the piano bench.

Ever since their embrace that morning, melodies had spun around his mind all day, and it felt cathartic to finally set them free as he played. The improvised notes were far from perfect, but he hoped the emotion would properly be conveyed at least. He thought he'd heard a little sigh escape from Christine's lips, but he also might have imagined it.

When he stopped playing—he had no idea how long he'd gone on—he heard Christine's deep, even breathing. He turned on the bench to find her asleep on the chair, in a position that looked extremely uncomfortable. Her legs dangled off one arm, and her head off the other. If she stayed that way for too long, she'd have a horrid pain in her neck come morning. He simply could not allow that.

Sasha was curled up beside the chair. Erik eyed the dog suspiciously and muttered, "I have been replaced." Sasha blinked and huffed, and then looked rather offended when Erik stepped around him to pick up Christine.

Erik prepared for the girl to stir or wake, but she did neither. He carried her upstairs and carefully placed her into her unmade bed, marveling at how deeply she slept. He was a little jealous of her. The steady rise and fall of her chest hypnotized him, Taking the comforter, he covered her up and sat at her side, needing to watch her breathe just a little longer.

That morning, when they'd shared a closeness Erik had never experienced in his entire life, something changed within him. Christine's softness, her warmth, had invaded his entire body, for it prickled even now with the feel of her pressed tightly against him and left his blood hot inside of him. The faint aroma that had snuck into the nose holes of his mask was enough to intoxicate him, and he felt light-headed just remembering it. Never in his existence did he think it possible to hold such perfection, but he did. And he'd survived. And she'd survived!

Dangerous daydreams had plagued his mind all day, wondering when he might hold her again, or if someday he could possibly bury his unmasked face into her hair and greedily drink down her scent. They would lie close in the dark and he would wrap himself entirely in her until everything was Christine. She would not be afraid. She would sigh sweetly and pull him closer as she had that morning.

As she slept, his trembling fingers stroked her silky hair. It was difficult to keep his hands to himself now. Throughout the day he had taken her hand or touched her cheek, had even placed a guiding hand on her back when they were walking somewhere. It baffled him that Christine didn't seem to mind his touch; she didn't even seem afraid. If he were not already insane, he would go as far to think she enjoyed it. It would be ideal if that were the case, because at the slightest hint that she was afraid or repulsed by his touch, he was unsure he would ever be able to touch her again.

Of course, Erik was a man—despite having the face and body of a corpse—and he had often fantasized about Christine, as much as he'd tried to help it. But they were just that: fantasies. Now that she was here with him—real and warm and endlessly lovely—and that he'd had the privilege of holding her in his arms, he felt permanently altered.

If only he knew how she felt. There were moments when he could swear that she held some sort of affection toward him too, but was it real or made up in his own mad mind? After what she had been through, was she simply clinging to him out of fear for the other?

No, he could not allow himself to believe that. The unspoken bond they had was sacred and real. Every time she sang for him, he knew. It had to be real. He could not make anything that substantial up.

Breaking him from his thoughts, Sasha jumped up on Christine's bed then, making himself comfortable beside her and avoiding eye contact with Erik. It made Erik laugh under his breath. "I do not blame you."

As he was about to leave to let the two dear creatures sleep without his spectral presence, his phone buzzed obnoxiously in his pocket.

The old man had called him multiple times that day. He had pressed the ignore button or let it ring each time. Though if he continued not to answer, Nadir would likely show up at his door, red faced with anger and determination.

As he returned downstairs, Erik pulled out his phone reluctantly. "Evening," he answered with a mutter.

"Finally," Nadir snapped, and Erik could just picture the exasperated sort of annoyance on his face. "I've been calling you all day."

"I have been busy. You understand, I am sure."

"A student, Erik? I mean really? You must understand how highly inappropriate this is!"

Erik sat in the very chair Christine had fallen asleep in, savoring the warmth that lingered. "It is her choice to stay with me," Erik said. "I have already explained to you that it is all very innocent. I assume she told you the same?"

"I—" Nadir spluttered. "She…well, yes, she did insist it was what she wanted. But still, I'm looking at it from the university's standpoint. If admin finds out about this, you could be fired."

Erik scoffed. "Fired? Oh, no. How awful."

Nadir's voice turned into nearly a growl. "And what about me? I'm the one who got you the job. There could be consequences for me too."

"Oh, hush, Khan. No one is being fired. No one is getting into trouble. I certainly am not telling anybody my business, or Christine's. Are you?"

"Well, no, but…"

"You are being paranoid. Relax. Pour yourself a drink and put on one of those horrid television shows you love so much."

"Erik," Nadir pled, sounding tired now. "Are you positive there is no one else she can stay with? Any friends or family?"

"Even if there were, which there is not, she has stated she only feels safe with me. I will honor what she wants."

A heavy sigh. "Could you at least come back to work tomorrow? Someone is bound to get suspicious since you both disappeared at the same time. Please. Just to be on the safe side."

Erik thought about it. Being with Christine every moment was pure heaven, and he did not want that to end. But… The more time he spent with her, the more addicted to her he became, and he feared what might happen if that continued. It would become much more difficult to keep his feelings for her a secret. Perhaps the time away would be best for them both.

"I will discuss it with her in the morning," Erik decided. "If she is all right with being alone during the day, then I will return to work."

"Thank you," Nadir said, sounding sincere. "I think it would be best. How is she doing?"

The obvious concern in Khan's voice had Erik offering a little more information than he would otherwise. "She seems haunted, still, and very tired," he said distantly. "She is asleep now. She will feel better tomorrow."

"I hope so," the old man said with earnest. "Please, Erik, answer when I call. I want to know what's going on. I care about her too, you know. You could even text me little updates. I don't care. I just want to stay informed."

"You are so needy."

Nadir laughed. "Lunch tomorrow?"

"Perhaps." And then Erik hung up.

The clock on his phone read half past eight. He had been awake since the middle of the night, and he figured a sane person would be readying themselves for bed now. However, he was not a sane person, and the urge to compose was screamingly strong anyway.

He worked on the same piece as before, this time writing the notes down and fixing any imperfections. After a couple hours of work, the piece was completed.

Then, a different sort of piece began to manifest in his mind. It was sultry, but still sweet, somehow. He played the notes, feeling them exit his hot blood and entranced body and instead swirl around the room. He wondered how she would respond to such music. Would she be frightened? Seduced? Equally as entranced as she had him?

He recalled a time when she had walked in and heard the music that had come from the deepest, ugliest pit of his soul, and how shocked and afraid she had been. Nothing could compare to the darkness of Don Juan Triumphant, so her reaction had been quite appropriate.

Even he had a hard time knowing it had come from his own mind. How had he even gotten to the brink of such madness, such darkness?

It had begun out of a mixture of curiosity and boredom.

Erik hadn't known much of life outside of the large, lonely childhood home and the stiffly boring private schools he'd been enrolled in. Even though his mother had traveled often, she'd refused to bring him along, and he quickly learned to not even ask to avoid the bitter sting of rejection.

After her death and his massive inheritance, it had been a natural impulse to flee the second he was able. He traveled for a long while, keeping to himself and avoiding interaction as much as possible. He learned much more by seeing and observing other countries than he ever learned from his expensive American education, and it became addicting fast. He wanted to see everything, know everything.

His exploration started in South American countries, then African and Asian. The Middle East had been especially intriguing to him, and he'd spent a long while there learning about their history, specifically in weapon use. When he finally left, he took the Punjab lasso he'd spent so much time studying with him.

Erik had also taken his time in Italy and then France, studying and enjoying the art of opera for several months. In his youth, he had always been intrigued by opera and dreamed of writing his own someday, oftentimes spending countless hours watching videos of operatic performances that were always so moving. Experiencing opera firsthand was even more profound than he'd expected.

When he was able to tear himself away from France and make his way to the United Kingdom, he felt a fierce hunger to begin creating his own music.

However, things took a turn later in his exploration of Europe. It seemed after immersing himself in opera for so long, nothing else could measure up. He became sick with boredom.

After visiting London and making his way up toward Scotland, Erik had stopped in Bradford. Research beforehand had warned Erik of the city's high crime rate, but that had only made him more curious to see it. There was something thrilling about the possibility of danger—the thought that he may have to defend himself and hold another's fate in his hands. He had no clue he would soon experience it firsthand.

The United Kingdom was having one of its rare heat waves, much to Erik's annoyance. He had been waiting until nighttime to venture outdoors, but even then, he could feel the city buzzing with an energy that set his instincts on edge. Every few moments Erik's hand would twitch toward the rope deep in his pocket, tasting the threat of danger on his tongue. However, nothing substantial happened for the first few nights of his stay.

One night, it was very late, and Erik was walking down an alley back toward his hotel room. No level-minded person would take this route this late in the evening, but Erik wanted to avoid people as much as possible. Soon, though, Erik found himself mask to face with a large, twitching man with wild eyes.

The man attempted to rob him with a knife that he could not even hold steady, and when Erik refused to cooperate the man resorted to attacking him. It was almost humorous. The full-grown man that was much bigger than Erik—yes, he was likely high out of his mind, but still—was almost too easy for Erik to take out. He used the Punjab lasso, of course, and it was clean and quick and quiet.

It made him feel invincible, godly, so much so that he ignored the slightly sick feeling in his stomach that taking the unknown man's life had instilled.

Gasping, Erik turned to leave the dead criminal alone, but a cell phone ringing shrilly gave him pause. It was coming from the dead man. Curious, and in an adrenaline induced haze, Erik took out the phone and answered it, holding it to his ear but saying nothing.

"You're an hour late," a deep male voice with a crisp English accent said. "If you aren't here in the next fifteen minutes with the cash, you're dead."

"He is already dead," Erik said, his head spinning. "I just killed him."

The person on the other end paused for about five seconds. "Who is this? And why did you kill Joe?"

"It is unimportant who I am. I killed him because he tried to rob me and kill me."

The man laughed incredulously. "Of course he did," he said tiredly. "Well, I suppose you took out the trash for me. Shame. He was one of my best sellers before his addiction took over. Never knew when to stop, that one."

Erik was silent, suddenly unsure what he was even doing. Who was he speaking to? Why did he feel ill?

"How did you kill him?" the man then asked. "Big guy must've put up a fight."

"Not really. I used a rope."

"Rope?" the man sounded impressed. "Clean. I like it. Do me a favor, sir. Search the bloke's pockets for his stash. It belongs to me, you see. I'd like it back."

Erik did as he was told, feeling as if he were in a trance. He soon produced a rolled-up paper sack. "I have it."

"Bring it to me, will you? I'll pay you handsomely."

"What about this deceased body on the ground?" Erik growled into the phone.

The man on the other line was much too calm. "I'll have it taken care of. Actually, we'll come pick you up. Where are you located?"

Erik knew it was a bad idea. All of it. But with the adrenaline still thick in his blood, he figured, why not? He was young, fearless. He was bored. He was alone. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care.

That night marked the beginning of a new life he had surely never considered before but felt like a place he belonged.

Yes, with all the darkness around him, he had fit right in.

Christine woke early the next morning, disoriented but rested. She did not recall going to bed, and her unsettling dreams were just beyond the point of being remembered, but she supposed that was a good thing. The clock read six-thirty, and she wondered what time she fell asleep. The last thing she remembered was Erik's beautiful music putting her mind and body at ease...

Stretching her stiff limbs, she stiffened when she felt the weight of another beside her. Her heart jumped ridiculously until she saw it was only Sasha, and then she laughed tiredly in relief.

"Hi, buddy," she said, her voice thick with sleep. He looked at her and wiggled in excitement. She pet him and kissed his head before getting out of bed, and he immediately ran out the door and down the stairs.

After cleaning herself up and putting on fresh clothes, she went downstairs and found Erik just returning from taking Sasha on a walk. She raced over to him and hugged him tightly, pressing her face into his clean dress shirt.

"Thank you for carrying me to bed," she mumbled into his chest. "You didn't have to do that."

His hands ran soothing patterns up and down her back. "But I did. You looked dreadfully uncomfortable in that chair."

She blushed, embarrassed.

While Christine ate breakfast, Erik sat in front of her and cleared his throat quietly.

She swallowed and took a sip of juice before asking, "What is it?"

"I will go back to work today, if that is all right with you." His masked face was impassive as ever, his eyes betraying no emotion.

Her first instinct was to protest, but she was able to stop herself. He should go back to work if he wanted to. He was a grown man with his own life and responsibilities. He shouldn't have to spend every single moment taking care of her, even if that was what she wanted.

She forced a smile and said, "Of course, Erik. I'll be fine."

"Christine. Be honest with me."

"No, really... I think you should go. It will be good for me."

"But is it what you want?"

Her smile turned sad. "No, but it's what I need. It wouldn't be right for me to ask you to stay."

"And yet, I will," he said intensely, leaning forward, "if you ask that of me."

Christine blinked, her cheeks heating. "That's v-very kind of you...but I won't. Ask that, I mean. Heh. Besides, it's already Friday. We have the whole weekend, right?"

Erik nodded once, yellow eyes seeming to warm to golden. "Yes, I suppose that is right."

Her stomach whirled. "Exactly."

"You will call me or send me a message if you need anything at all."

She nodded. "Yes, of course."

Erik left soon after she finished her breakfast, promising to return mid-afternoon.

Christine quickly decided to distract herself with schoolwork. The laptop Erik had purchased for her was fancier than anything she'd ever owned or even used before, but thankfully she was able to navigate it without much issue. She logged into her student account and made a mental list of everything she needed to get done.

Being a week behind in all her classes was a bit overwhelming, but she was grateful for the busy work. It was easier to ignore her emotions and trauma-induced memories completely when she was so focused on her work.

She texted Erik a few updates throughout the day so he wouldn't worry, and his brief, stoic replies made her shake her head in confusion. The man needed a serious lesson in texting-etiquette. She wondered if he ever used an emoji in his life...and quickly decided he hadn't. Or maybe her texts bothered him.

She stopped texting him altogether after his response to her, Taking a lunch break- I think I'll just make a sandwich. What are you having?, was simply, OK. Not hungry.

As she cleaned up after lunch, she was just about to go back to working on assignments when the doorbell rang. Sasha barked in warning, and Christine's heart pounded uncomfortably. It took an insane amount of courage to go to the front door and look out of the peephole. To her relief, it was a uniformed person already getting back into the small, white and blue truck and driving away.

She opened the door to find two cardboard boxes with her name on them.

Her stomach dropped. It couldn't be...could it?

It was. She dragged them both inside and shut and locked the door before opening them and finding her stuff. Everything she'd had with her in his apartment. Her fingers shook as she went through some of it, unsure whether she should feel relieved or horrified. These belonged to her, but...

Had he been the one to pack this all up? Had his fingers recently touched what she was touching now? No, that was impossible. He was locked up...

Wasn't he?

Christine forced herself to take several deep breaths, deciding to leave it aside for later when Erik could be with her. But then, she noticed her old cell phone wedged in the side of the box she currently stood over, and she gasped in surprise, taking it. It was dead, of course, and she raced upstairs to plug it into her new charger.

As she went through her notifications, she cried softly, having not expected so many messages or phone calls. Not only did a ton of her church and school friends reach out over text, but her coworkers did as well, full of concern. It made her heart swell.

Her most recent text was from Rey last Friday night, and it read, OMG! U absolutely slayed! We were all shook. And that outfit tho? And then three flame symbols. She laughed breathlessly through her tears, and then sobbed harder.

Sniffling, she tried to respond to everyone with a brief text, letting them know that she was okay and that she was so sorry she couldn't get to them sooner, thanking them for checking on her. She was about halfway through when she heard the garage door opening. She threw down the phone and raced to the mirror, groaning at her tear streaked, red face. Great. Would Erik ever get to see her when she wasn't a total mess?

She went into her bathroom and cleaned up her face, hearing Erik call her name from downstairs. He sounded slightly alarmed.

"Coming," she shouted, jogging down the stairs.

He was waiting for her at the bottom, eyes on fire as he took her into his arms. "What is the matter? What happened?"

She shivered at the malice in his voice. "I'm fine," she mumbled into his torso. "My stuff came today."

"I saw," he said, still alarmed. "What has upset you?"

She shrugged against him. "Just overwhelmed by it all, I guess."

"So, you are not hurt?"

Christine pulled back, looking up at him in confusion. "No, why would I be?"

He did not answer, his lips pressed thinly together.

It was then that she knew. The blood rushed from her head, and she tried with everything inside of her not to panic.

"He's out isn't he?" she choked, stepping out of Erik's embrace.

Erik turned away from her, running a hand through his hair. His breathing was stressed.

She felt like the world was spinning much faster than usual. "Since when?"

"Saturday," he said.

"Saturday?" Her voice was shrill, growing towards a shout. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not want you to be afraid."

"I'm not a child! I had a right to know."

He turned to glare at her, eyes blazing. "Do you think it is easy for me seeing you suffer? You think it would be so simple for me to tell you the last thing you want to hear when you are already hurting? I apologize sincerely for wanting you to feel just a few moments of peace."

His sarcasm had her clenching her fists at her side. "Never again," she spat up at him. "The last thing I deserve are secrets kept from me."

"Fine," Erik snapped, then strode past her to the music room, slamming the door behind him.

Scarily angry music began soon after, and Christine turned and ran back upstairs. She barely made it inside her room before collapsing to the floor, hugging herself and curling up in a ball.

Sky was out. He had been out since the day after it happened.

She let the grief and fear consume her completely, crying so hard she couldn't breathe.

And then her old phone chimed with a new message.

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