CH5

AN big thanks to 'Yours Anonymous' for a lovely review on the previous chapter. Glad you like the setting. Always great to hear from you, Masked Man 2 and all my other reviewers! So sorry that this has taken so long, im in second year of uni and assessments have just piled up and I've started dating someone (who, amusingly is called Rob and matches my description of him (blonde, confident, chilled out, stubbly) despite me creating the character before meeting him! A glitch in the matrix?) and basically life just took over, as it does! Hope you are all in excellent health and enjoying this lovely planet that we share. Peace and love x

Trigger warning: rape/violence

Eric stirred. What was she doing now? She must be in shock. If he felt disturbed, to his very core, at the idea of someone violating such a sweet, sweet woman (AN: no woman or man deserves to be raped of course, but this disturbed him more as he personally had witnessed the attempt and he was devoted to her). He hoped that his rather mild beating of that scumbag had caused him brain damage of some sort so that his dick wouldn't work and he stopped hurting women. Urgh.

Rolling out of bed, ignoring the mirror, Eric knew he owed Nadir an explanation. And he should probably tidy his room and do some creative writing work for his degree. But all Eric wanted to do was watch her, and check she was ok. Having driven around the one way system last night so that she didn't know they were neighbours, Eric had thus not heard Christine get in. The house would be empty, seeing as her blonde friend – Megan – was still at Spoons and Heather was staying at her parents' place. He longed to give her some shred of comfort, but a strange man prying into her business was the last thing Christine needed.

There were things to be done today – as with any other day- but Eric took advantage of these few moments of quiet in bed to reflect. If Nadir asked for an explanation for last night's lift, Eric would grant him none. It wasn't his business to tell about Christine's attack. He would just say she didn't feel well and leave it at that. Although the fact she went home wearing his coat would probably inspire Nadir to ask some romantically inclined questions which Eric would sadly have to stamp out too.

Speaking of his coat, Eric mentally added that to his to do list. He liked the idea of her keeping it, wearing it, getting used to his smell. He could get another just like it with little effort.

Through the thin wall that separated them, Eric heard a noise of some sort. Surprise? Or pain? No. Mental anguish.

Peeping through the small hole that only he knew of, Eric saw that Christine had woken up, showered and was now in her underwear staring at herself in the mirror. Normally, he would look away right now, but what lay before him was not arousing in the slightest.

Whilst her bra and panties were admittedly very pretty – white with pink flowers and then plain black pants – Eric felt tears prick at his eyes and throat. She had bite marks and love bites – it made him sick to use the word 'love' seeing as what that man had done to her – tried to do- had been so devoid of that precious emotion. Her neck was decorated with them – and then her upper arms and wrists had finger shaped bruises blooming on the pale skin like fresh blood on snow.

There were no tears in her eyes. She simply took a good look, nodded and got dressed.

He wouldn't give her any music today. He knew she would feel obliged to sing it and pretend nothing was wrong. He would give her a break, much as his heart longed to hear her sweet melody, he ached more for the fact that she suffered. If he had been quicker, she would not have had a mark on her.

Fury rose in Eric's chest, rearing its head like an ugly dragon that coiled its spiky tail around his heart. Another man had marked his Christine. Even if this had happened during consensual sex, he would have been devastated, though of course that was her right, but for these marks to have appeared through senseless violence made him sick to his stomach.

He hoped and prayed, dreamed – even fantasised – over the idea that he could be the person that touched her, physically and emotionally. To be close to her, and smell her sweet smelling hair, to kiss her all over, to tell her how he felt. But he was not good for her. Too damaged, too angry. Marked.

Christine

You're marked, and that's ok. It will heal, and you are going to be fine. Nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to get upset over or tell anyone about. A stranger beat the shit out of him, you got your justice.

Christine took a deep breath in and held it, letting it out slowly like an old balloon. The after effects of whatever she had been given seemed few – just some achiness and dehydration.

She would have to wear her hair down today, which meant it would need washing first. Putting on her dressing gown, Christine crept to the bathroom the three residents of their little house shared and pulled the chord for the shower to heat up. Perhaps the shower would wash away that dirty feeling from being out so late and wearing a stranger's coat and having someone's hands on her, which was not a feeling Christine was familiar with. Her virgin status didn't bother her in the slightest, and she wasn't looking for a boyfriend, but the events of last night pushed back any plans she might have had of doing so.

Stop thinking about it. It's done now. No point dwelling on it. Thank god he didn't get very far…

The shower did help – along with her familiar Rose Jam shower gel from Lush that Meg had got her for Christmas last year. It smelled so delicate and light, Christine would be sad when it ran out as she couldn't really justify the expense of buying it for herself when she could just get the 99p stuff from the Discount Store. Wrapping a towel around her head, turban style, and a pink flowery one around her body, Christine opened the door and turned off the light to make the short ten steps back to her room.

'Good morning Christine'. A familiar-ish voice made her clutch at her towel and squeal. It was Rob, Meg's…friend? Partner?

'Jesus fucking Christ Christine. What the fuck happened to you? Are you ok?' His blue eyes darted about her stocky form, taking in all the bruises and hickies.

'Yeah just…got a bit carried away, you know. In the bedroom' She murmured and shrugged, hoping that Meg hadn't blabbed that slenderman probably had a better love life than she did.

'That looks sore, I hope you're alright?... You'd tell me if someone was wrong, right?' His concern for her was touching. Christine totally forgot she was standing there in a towel.

'Um..Thanks. You're planning on being here a lot then?' She chuckled. It was rare for Meg to fix on someone so this was a nice development if it lasted.

Rob looked uncomfortable – an expression that didn't really fit his stubbly face.

'Sorry, I didn't mean...I just assumed..'

'that we were shagging, yeah. No we're um…just getting to know each other' he smiled, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

'Anyway it's cold down here so you best be getting dried off. Please take care of yourself'. He held her in his gaze seriously for a moment before heading for the bathroom, which was still steamy from her rosy smelling shower.

He totally had not bought her explanation but hopefully he wouldn't pry anymore or say anything to Meg. Christine wanted to forget the entire thing and she knew Meg would feel bad for making fun of her for being so 'drunk'.

Once dressed in a fairly high necked day dress with dark leggings and a complimentary scarf – everything hidden to perfection – Christine did an hour of work and then gave the kitchen a wipe down. On emptying the recycling – though it wasn't her turn – Christine hoped there would be some music for her but there was nothing. Remembering their other spot, she went out back to the other box, and… nothing.

It had been a while since she had received anything from her mysterious musical benefactor. Perhaps they had lost interest. Even though it was silly, Christine couldn't help but slump a little. It was the only interesting thing going on in her life right now. All she had to look forward to today, having found nothing, was work for uni and maybe doing some old songs she had retrieved from her folder.

Shrugging off her disappointment, Christine turned to head downstairs when a familiar accent caught her attention. She couldn't place it but it seemed to be recent…from last night?

Oh dear God. What if it was the voice of her would be rapist? He had crooned disgusting things to her while he ripped open her blouse, biting her neck and squeezing her 'nice ass', as he called it. Bile rose in her throat as she slammed the back door and ran to her room.

Block it, block it out. You can do this. Her gaze fell on the coat of her saviour. What a stroke of luck that had been. Christine realised she was cold and put on the coat. It smelled like her saviour – a musky comforting scent. She must find a way to give it back to him soon. But for now she curled up in it on her bed, inhaling, and though it was twelve midday, she drifted into a gentle slumber.

Eric

Staring through his little peep hole, Eric felt a rush of pleasure when she seemed comforted by his scent. Slowly, through his gentle manipulations, she was becoming marked. She would be his.

Christine

'So you haven't been sleeping with him?' Christine asked, amazed.

Meg laughed. 'I guess I do have a reputation! No, we just sit in bed in our pants and watch movies together. I think I'm going to stop asking him to come over, I don't really feel much of a spark. We'd be okay as friends I guess'. Christine nodded, though it was really none of her business. That Rob was very nice though. He had kind eyes and an incredible smile. Like a puppy.

'Anyway, how are you feeling after last night Missy?'

Christine's heart dropped into her stomach. Then she remembered that none of her friends knew what had happened and she was probably talking about her being "drunk", although Christine now knew that she had been spiked.

'Yeah fine actually, I think I just forgot to eat properly first, you know' Christine rose to her feet, holding her scarf around her throat protectively.

'I'm really hungover actually, I think I'm going to go to bed for a bit. Can we finish the movie later? Sorry'. Without waiting for a response, Christine opened the door to the basement that contained her room and bathroom, and scampered back into the safety of her room. She felt protected down here, away from prying eyes and awkward questions. And, if anyone had doubted her story about being hung-over before, they no longer would, as the entire neighbourhood could probably hear as she threw up into the toilet.