A/N: Sorry, I made a few errors in the last chapter…I hope they didn't muddle the story too much. Well, here is that 'much' awaited chapter. And I don't know how to properly write this, but she came-to after he knocked her out for the first time, and so he did so again.
Chapter Seventeen
A Feeling of Helplessness
The night settled over Christine's sobbing form, a cold blanket to aggravate her deepest fears. Alone and shivering, she realized no one was going to help her. Erik had not come to her rescue; there had been no knight in shining armor. There had only been a rich noble with rough touches and strength to rival a lion's.
She had come-to in time to hear his faint footsteps as he left her, dirty and broken, like a piece of discarded trash. Her clothing lay at her feet in a torn and soiled pile. As she closed her eyes she could still feel his hands as they violated the very inner parts of her, taking what was not his to take. The torture had continued for hours, Christine's frantic screams had faded away to silence as he kept on hitting her, shamelessly battering her once beautiful face, knocking her further and further into unconsciousness. With the rape all innocence had been ripped away from her. Her naked body was sprawled out on the cold cobblestone, no part of her had moved since she had awoken. Broken glass dug into her back and legs, the shards embedding themselves deep into her skin to become constant reminders of what happened to her.
Shakily reaching one hand down to her thigh she was met by a warm, thick substance. Blood. He had torn and mutilated her with no second thoughts. The pain began to course through her body, and even it was a welcome substitute for the numbness. It snapped her back into reality. She began to cry as she raised herself up from the ground to stand on rubbery legs. She gathered her clothes and hugged them to her body. She was shaking so violently it was difficult to move.
Slowly Christine began to walk, and she had only taken a few steps when she realized she didn't know where she was. There were no street lamps to guide her. She had trapped herself in a completely deserted alleyway, one of the hundreds in France. She could be anywhere. The feeling of utter helplessness clouded over her, erasing what little ability she had to function left. "Erik?" She whimpered, walking with her hands running over the walls. "Erik? Where are you?" And so she stumbled through the alleyways, blood dripping down her legs, sweat stinging her eyes, falling blindly into whatever fate awaited her.
-
"Christine!" Erik stood in the dark foyer, rubbing the remains of sleep from his heavy lids. It was nearly midnight and Erik was more than alarmed to find her absent from their bed.
There was no answer. With an involuntary shudder, Erik grabbed his cloak and ran along the stone that led through the small watery passageways. Putting the cloak's hood securely over his head, Erik sprinted silently through the deserted streets, winding through empty alleyway after empty alleyway.
"Erik?" The small sound came from his right. "Erik…" The voice was Christine's, this Erik knew immediately.
"Christine?"
"Erik!" She fell into his arms, a sticky mass of foul smelling sweat and blood.
His first reaction was fury. Why was she still out at this hour? And what was she doing covered in sweat and blood? The second was absolute horror. "Did someone do this to you?"
She only whimpered in return and stepped back from him. She lost her balance and fell to the cobble stone street; blessed blackness claimed her once again.
"Christine!"
