Ch 4
Christine felt strange. Her body wouldn't cooperate with what she was telling it to do. She felt as though someone could have dropped an elephant on her and she wouldn't feel it. Was this what being drunk was like? Squinting, she tried to count the empty glasses in front of her. There weren't that many but how many was 'many'? It depended on the drink didn't it? Two vodka cranberries wasn't much according to Meg's mocking tone.
She needed fresh air, it was so stuffy in there. Once she got some of the cool breeze on her face she would sober up, Christine decided. She staggered to the door and tripped over something on the floor – a plastic shot glass.
Strong hands caught her under her arms.
"Whoops a daisy, careful there Miss" an unfamiliar voice said. She tried to focus on his face but couldn't. Was it someone she had been sitting with at the table?
"S-sorry" she slurred. Now that she squinted, Christine was sure it was just a kindly stranger.
"No harm done. Allow me to escort you to wherever you were going" he smiled down at her, and moved some hair out of her face that she hadn't noticed was half in her mouth. How embarrassing. The thought barely stirred in the back of her brain. His strong arms guided her towards the door.
The door opened and cold air rushed into her lungs. It felt nice but didn't clear her head as much as she had hoped.
"I know somewhere more fun we can go, come on".
"My friends-" she managed to blurt out.
"They won't mind, they know me. It's okay" he smiled – possibly. Panic started to set in but there was no adrenaline rush, just a numb kind of fear in the knowledge that her limbs were so weak he could easily carry her away wherever he liked.
"You ….know my friends?" It seemed possible – Meg seemed to know everyone. But why hadn't he come over before? Christine wasn't stupid. And she was slowly starting to suspect that she wasn't drunk at all.
Whatever was wrong with her, it managed to prevent panic setting in. All she could dredge up from the depths of the foggy swirls of her brain was that something bad was going to happen and there wasn't much she could do.
"Sure I do, I'll send them a message and tell them to meet us there". He smiled reassuringly – or at least Christine imagined that he did, as she couldn't really focus on his face.
"My place is just a couple of streets away, we can take a short cut". He kept his strong arm around her shoulders and half dragged her down an alley that even in her confused state made alarm bells ring. It was dark and dingy and probably littered with condoms, needles and despair.
"I don't…want to….no"
ERIc
Eric had never run so fast, nor do desperately. Town was a twenty minute walk but there just wasn't time for a casual stroll What if he was too late? What is this creep was already shoving her into his car or into an alley somewhere with her…his Christine.
Bile rose in his throat, which he swallowed – no time for a weak stomach now. People stared as his converse slapped the pavement with each pounding stride of his long legs.
After what seemed like a thousand of these thumping heavy steps, Eric could see the road where the pub Christine had been in was situated.
He slowed, anxious not to scare off the attacker lest he drag her somewhere else or drive off with her.
A glance through the glass front of the pub told Eric she was no longer there. Where the hell had he taken her?! Was he too late?
There was an alley that Eric thought the perfect place to drag a drugged woman and hurt her. There! They were there! He had her shoved against a wall, hands in her shirt, undoing the buttons. He was taking his time, confident that she couldn't run and that they wouldn't be disturbed. Had Eric not known the situation and seen the way Christine's head hung dopily, he would have thought he had happened upon two lovers. But no. This was attempted rape.
"no" she was mumbling, her hands weakly trying to push him away. Eric crept closer with catlike grace. He was going to enjoying beating the shit out of this scumbag. Rage bubbled from inside him and travelled down his fist into where it connected suddenly with the attacker's lower back. Then his head, stomach, balls and wherever else his fists would connect, again and again and again until his knuckles stung and he felt blood on them that was not his own. It felt so good.
Wiping sweat from his face, Eric stood back and surveyed the motionless excuse for a human being on the ground in front of him. A whimper from nearby reminded him that Christine needed comfort right now, not vindication. Their eyes locked, hers dilating wildly at the sight of his bloody hands and..
His face. Shit. If she hadn't been drugged she would surely have run.
"Christine. It's okay. You're safe now". Only a lunatic would believe him. And now he had revealed that he knew her name. Shit.
"shhh, it's ok" he repeated, leaning her against the wall more comfortably. She was terrified, shivering and could barely speak, though because of fear or the drugs Eric couldn't tell. Their eyes met again and Eric noted how her eyes darted around his face in the semi-darkness.
"I was in a bar fight a few years ago. It's ok" Eric murmured, forcing a bitter smile. You're meant to reassure her, not tell her your life story, asshole. Right.
"Let's get you covered up and somewhere warm". Her shirt was unbuttoned still, and though he averted his eyes Eric could see she wore a pink lacy bra. Shrugging out of his trench coat, he swathed her in it and did up the buttons and belt. She flinched when he had to get close to her to do this, but made no sound.
Eric decided he would call his housemate Nadir, a student from Persia who could drive and owed him a few favours.
An arm around her, they walked slowly to a café where Eric ordered a hot chocolate for Christine and nothing for himself. The sugar would do her good.
The spoon rattled against the cup as she stirred it, attempting nonchalance.
"Are you alright?" He leaned forward a little, hating how he made her flinch. Christine shrugged and sipped the drink.
"I'm just going to make a call for someone to take you home".
"I can walk…" she mumbled. The first words she had spoken in his presence. Eric just ignored her – she knew she couldn't walk home, she was just trying to be polite. But it was bloody annoying all the same.
"Nadir? It's Eric, are you home?"
"I am home. Why do you ask?" His friend's thick Persian accent caressed the words.
"Can you pick me and a friend up from the Odeon?" His leg jigged under the table impatiently but the remainder of his body upheld his façade of calm.
"Sure no problem. I'll be there in ten minutes". Eric hung up with no response. He wanted to use this time to talk to her. He still couldn't believe that she was sat across the table from him. Drinking a hot chocolate he had bought her and wearing his coat. She seemed determined not to be rattled by her experience but Eric was sure she would fall apart later. Her hands shook but her will was strong though. She would be alright.
Christine
Her rescuer, who she suspected she was not a stranger to as he was to her, examined her intently. His coat smelled musky, nothing like the beer breath of…that man. And now she was safe and he was lying in the dirt where he belonged.
She had to concentrate to speak, but Christine wanted to know more.
"how do you know my name?"
"I heard one of your friends called you Christina once". His error made her relax. He didn't really know her after all.
"it's just Christine" she said, smiling a little and dropping her guard.
"oh, sorry" he murmured sheepishly. His hair was brushed into his face more now but she could still see he was disfigured and scarred. It fascinated her. He wasn't unattractive but he wouldn't meet her gaze and Christine found it disconcerting. As though he had something to hide. He obviously hated himself for something.
His iPhone buzzed on the table.
"Our ride is here" he murmured softly, moving her now-empty hot chocolate mug to the end of the table.
"You expect me to get in a car with a stranger after what just happened?" Her saviour laughed.
"I hardly think someone would rescue you only to hurt you themselves. Sounds awfully complicated". He seemed so gentle but Christine had just watched him beat a man to a pulp in front of her. He still had dried blood on his knuckles. Accepting the lift would mean he would see where she lived….unless she got him to drop her at the bottom of her road and she would wait until they drove off.
"ok…" she mumbled apprehensively. Then she realised she was being incredibly rude.
"Thank you for saving me, and for the hot chocolate and your coat". He didn't say anything, just looked into her eyes intensely for a moment and nodded. Strange man.
Their ride was a white fiat punto parked by the cinema. The two friends exchanged a look but other than sirens in the distance, there was no noise or talking. The night was crisp and calm. The driver was silent and though it was hard to see his face in the dark, Christine could see he was dark skinned and handsome. Although she had given no directions, so far he drove the correct route. Perhaps he just assumed she lived where all the student houses were, and he was right.
"if you stop on Moorland Road I can find my way from there" Christine said as they neared her destination. Her saviour's jaw clenched. Christine must have flinched involuntarily as he seemed to force himself to relax and nod.
With shaky hands, she fumbled for her purse.
"what are you doing?! Put that away, don't be so stupid" he barked. Christine almost dropped her purse. He had been so quiet up until now. The driver and her rescuer exchanged a look via the rear-view mirror.
He cleared his throat. "I meant to say, that's very thoughtful of you but there's no need. We're just glad you're safe."
Christine swallowed. That safe-ish feeling she had had with him in the café was now gone. He was scary and she wanted to go home and cry herself to sleep.
They pulled up outside sainsbury's on Moorland road, and the two men turned to her expectantly.
"um. Thank you. I wish you would let me- "
"no no, that's fine" The driver spoke for the first time, with a thick but unidentifiable accent.
"Please let us know when you get in safely. Here is my card". He handed her a business card from his pocket. A student with business cards? How strange. But after the night she had had, Christine barely gave it more thought than that.
In fact, she gave little thought to anything as she walked up the hill to her student house and let herself in. It was only in bed, safe, thinking over the events of the evening, that Christine twigged that the siren they heard was an ambulance on its way to help her would-be rapist.
