Everything came fading in slowly. Sound came first—a smooth, constant rumbling and the occasional strange whizzing noise that rushed past her. Christine tried to lift a hand and push her hair out of her face, but when she moved it, a sharp jolt of pain shot up through her shoulder, and she let her hand flop down again. She could feel something underneath her, a steady vibration, and she released a weak, pathetic-sounding groan.

"Christine?"

It was a warm, concerned voice. She struggled for several long moments before forcing her eyes to crack open. There was dim light ahead of her, and she squinted.

"Christine, honey? Are you awake?"

She blinked a few more times, finally realizing that she was in a car, draped across the backseat. With a heavy, thick mouth, she tried to say, 'Erik,' but it came out sounding like another groan.

Something warm took her hand, and she had to force herself to focus to see that it was another hand, large and masculine. Not Erik's hand, though—no.

"I can't slow down, baby. I'm on the interstate. Just calm down. You're okay."

She could see Raoul sitting in the driver's seat, and at last she recognized his BMW. Christine looked around some more. Cars were shooting past them, no more than bright lights darting across her vision, really, and the glare of the lights hurt her eyes. Her whole head was throbbing insistently, painfully, and each spasm seemed to hurt more and more the longer she was awake.

There was a sudden loud, piercing ringing, and Christine squeezed her eyes shut, as if doing so would block out the sound as well. Her hand was released.

"Hello?" she heard Raoul say hurriedly. "Yeah. We're on the interstate right now...No, of course not. No. You told me not to…Yeah. But—no, just listen. I want to get her to a hospital. She looks really bad. I can't believe what that freak—yeah. No, I get it, but—" Even in her dazed state, she could hear Raoul's anger in his voice. He continued forcefully, "Look, I understand, but I really think she needs to go to a hospital…Well, I don't. Who knows what else he did to her!" There was a long pause, and Christine blinked slowly, feeling sleepy and stupid. Raoul finally sighed and said, "Okay. Well…I guess I'll call you when we get there. Yeah—a couple more hours. I hope you're right."

His hand came back to grasp hers again, and he said, "I'm here, Christine. It's okay."

She sighed and let her heavy eyes drift close. Feeling too miserable to fight it, Christine allowed sleep to overcome her again.

The next time she awoke, she was able to come into consciousness with a lot more ease. Her body was a little achy, and her head was still throbbing. There was a faint ringing in her ears. Her right wrist was also hurting, and she used her left hand to gingerly touch her face. It felt a little numb, but she rubbed her eyes, feeling sweaty and sticky and uncomfortable. The heaviness of her body told her that she had been in the same position for a long time. Feeling her neck pop a few times, she lifted her head up and peered blearily out of the window. It was still very dark, and though cars passed them, there weren't as many.

She looked around again; when she craned her head, she could see Raoul's gaze reflected in the rearview mirror. His brows were knit, his eyes focused on the road. They were also a little red and swollen, and she wondered if he had been crying, though that was very unlikely. He was probably just exhausted.

His blue eyes then flickered to the mirror, and his brows arched in surprise when he saw her.

"Hey!" he said, risking a quick glance backward. "You're awake!"

She rubbed at her eyes again, trying to grind out the remaining sleep. Her throat felt parched. Where was she? Where were they going? How did she get there?

And, most importantly, where was Erik?

Her heart began to pound loudly, and she looked around in utter confusion, feeling panicked as she tried to remember. Her head was still in so much pain, and it wasn't allowing her to think as clearly as she wanted.

"It's okay," Raoul said quickly. "You're okay now, Christine." He reached over and then handed a water bottle out to her. "Here, drink this. Nadir said that you need to drink lots of water."

Christine accepted the bottle with a shaking hand, and she unscrewed the lid with some difficulty and gulped down more than half of the water. It soothed her thick, clogged mouth and dry throat, though it hurt her stomach.

She grunted as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, her left arm shaking as she did so. She carefully positioned her right wrist in a place that wasn't too painful. As she sat there, one thing became completely clear.

Erik was not with her—she didn't know where, but she remembered the gunshots and the cold hand grabbing her ankle, and then that was it. Christine suddenly felt sick again, and she leaned back against the seat, hoping that she wouldn't throw up. Her forehead was so sore, and she touched it gingerly. It was warm and raw under her fingers. She had hit it when she had fallen down, she remembered.

And now…Mr. Khan must have somehow gotten her to Raoul. After passing out, she must have been hoisted up and out of the old warehouse and delivered to her ex-boyfriend.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

No. No. She was not okay. She would never be okay.

"Where am I?" she said, her voice hoarse and raspy.

"We're on the interstate. We're almost there."

"Where?" she said, peering out of the window. It was no use, as it was very dark, and the signs she did see were merely advertisements for food and gas stations—nothing to tell her what city she was in, or even what state she was in.

"Nadir Khan told me about his friend's house. He said we should be safe there for tonight." His voice was tight and anxious. Christine was more confused than ever.

"You know Mr. Khan?" she said.

"Yeah. He told me…everything. And I…Christine." His voice suddenly broke, and Christine looked at him in shock. Raoul hurriedly wiped at his eyes, keeping one hand on the wheel. She had never seen him cry. He said, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. After everything you went through, and I wasn't there to help you. Nadir told me what—what that man did to you, and I…" Raoul took a deep breath, collecting himself. "I'm here for you now. I swear that I won't ever let that freak touch you again."

Christine was torn between horrified concern for Raoul and angry defiance at him calling Erik a freak.

"Where are we going?" she said, wanting to get the conversation away from Erik's 'freakishness.'

"To Nadir's friend's house, like I said," Raoul said, flipping on some air. It blew into her face and felt good against her flushed, hot, sticky skin and throbbing forehead. "We should be there in less than an hour. You've been sleeping for a long time."

"I don't…understand," she said after a few more minutes. They passed by a huge semi truck, and Christine looked at it, squinting against the lights. "I don't understand what happened."

"I know," he said. "You're probably freaking out right now. Just…calm down. I'll explain."

She was already tired of him telling her to calm down, and she didn't like that tone in his voice—that gentle tone that one would use on a small, crying child or a very sick person. She was neither!

Raoul took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and forcefully. He was driving fast but carefully, and Christine continued to look for clues that would alert her as to where she was. Were they even in the same state? They passed some exits to various towns and cities, but she didn't recognize any of the names.

"Nadir found me a month or two ago. Somehow he knew that we had been…close before all of this started. He told me that he was scared for your safety. I was, too, because I hadn't been able to see you or get a hold of you for…like months, and then when I did you acted strange. Then he told me everything." He paused and wiped at his eyes again, swearing angrily. "I should have been there for you," he said. "I was too stupid to see what was happening to you. I was so busy thinking about us that I wasn't thinking about you. I can't even—I'm…" He trailed off, looking ahead forcefully, and Christine examined his hard, furrowed brow and his blotchy, flushed face.

She rubbed at her own eyes again. He hadn't even given her any answers, really. "Raoul," she said, forcing herself to be calm. It wouldn't do to start screaming for Erik. First she needed to find out what had happened to him—if she could understand. Her head was so foggy right now. "What happened? How did you find me? I was…with Mr. Khan…and then Erik came…"

"It was Nadir," Raoul said. "We made arrangements to meet up so he could get you out and bring you to me. Christine, I thought…You looked dead—you had blood all over your face. I have never been more scared in my entire life. But Nadir said that you had accidentally hit your head and that you were just going to be unconscious for a while. Nadir told me that he shot him two times, but that he wasn't sure if he was dead, so I have to get you into hiding until we can be sure." Raoul paused, a hard glint coming into his eyes. "How hard could it have been to kill that freak with a gun? A shot between the eyes would've done it."

"No—stop," she said immediately, her stomach clenching up. No, no, no, no, no, no. No. Erik wasn't…He couldn't…No. The pain in her head increased.

"I'm sorry," Raoul said immediately. She could tell that he meant it, too. "I shouldn't be talking like that. It just…makes me so mad, what he did to you."

Her heart was pounding in her throat, and she felt sick again. She couldn't fully comprehend everything yet. The first thing that she had to think about was the…gunshots she had heard. Erik had been shot. Christine carefully pressed her cheek against the window, hoping the coolness would soothe the churning in her stomach. However, the more she thought about it, the more worked up she became. Just where was he shot? And apparently Mr. Khan didn't know if he had…killed Erik. So Erik might still be alive, but he was alone…bleeding…hurt…without her…

"I'm going to throw up," she said, clutching at her stomach. Bile was rising in her throat.

"Hold on one more minute," Raoul said, glancing at her with panic. "I see a rest stop that's a mile away."

She rolled down the window and let the cool night air blast in her face, ripping her curls back. No—she would not throw up in Raoul's expensive car. But the thought of Erik's panicked, pleading voice came to her.

No…Nadir. Please…I would die…

Christine.

Raoul rolled into the rest stop, and the car jerked to a halt. Christine tugged on the handle, stumbled out, fell to her knees, and vomited. With shuddering gasps, she emptied her stomach and tried to get air into her lungs. It was gross, always being sick like this. She staggered over to a provided bench and sat down, leaning her head back and listening to the cars fly past them on the interstate. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, trying to get her stomach under control and calm her racing heart.

After a minute, Raoul sat by her and handed her a water bottle that he had bought from the nearby vending machine. She accepted it, somehow able to be grateful for him through this whole thing.

"I want to take you to a hospital," Raoul said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He pressed a careful kiss to the top of her head. "But Nadir said that we probably shouldn't register our names anywhere just yet, in case he looks for you."

"I'm fine," she lied. She wiped at her mouth again and her runny nose. "Thanks for not throwing up when you see me throw up all the time."

He laughed a little, sounding sad. "It's the least I can do."

Christine tossed and turned, sore and sweaty and very uncomfortable. She stared at the dull wood paneling on the wall, illuminated by a soft orange glow of a lamp that would have been fashionable twenty years ago. Raoul was snoring softly on the floor beside her, and she envied his deep sleep. The couch she was lying on was old and lumpy, and the springs were pushing into her. Raoul had insisted that she sleep on it, though now she was thinking that the shag carpet would have been much more comfortable.

Mr. Khan's friends had turned out to be an old Iranian couple who spoke with thick accents and were very kind. The entire house carried a lingering scent of garlic, and although the hosts were kind in every sense of the word, Christine was counting down the hours until they could escape the small, sweltering house. A fan was buzzing dully at one corner of the room, but it provided no relief whatsoever. She had kicked off her provided blanket and was trying to get at least a couple hours of restful sleep, but she could not stop thinking. Her head was still aching, and the pain relievers Raoul had given her had done nothing but take the sting off for a few precious hours. Now it was back, and she felt dizzy and confused again. Her wrist still hurt, too. She wondered if she had sprained it. It was swollen badly, and she could see bruising around it. However, she didn't know how to treat a sprain, so she just tried not to move it too much. She lay there, wanting to get out.

She had argued with Raoul—telling him to take her back, to drive back to the city, but Raoul had stubbornly refused, saying that it was dangerous and she needed to get away from him. She had even screamed at him for a moment, that he didn't know anything, that she had to go back, but he did not budge, not even when she had smacked him in the chest a few times, so angry and upset and confused that she couldn't contain herself.

"I know it's bad now," he had said, listening calmly to everything she said. "But it'll get better."

And so she had allowed him to take her into the Iranian couple's house, where she had to behave and be polite, all the while her stomach twisting and her heart pounding painfully.

What if she just got up, took Raoul's car, and drove back to the city? Even though she still wasn't sure where she was, she could find out easily by stopping at a gas station and asking the cashier. She could drive for however long it took, go to the Opera House, go down to the basement, and find Erik. Christine felt the pocket of her jeans—the key was still there. But as she looked at Raoul, she had a funny feeling that he was keeping the keys on his person, just to keep them safe from her in case she tried to do something. And…she wasn't sure if she would make it. She felt incredibly sick still; she must've gotten hurt when she hit her head.

Those gunshots kept echoing in her ears, making her want to scream.

Christine wiped away some sweat on her neck, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she could find Raoul's cell phone and…

She groaned silently. Like she would even know who to call. There was no way to know what had happened, whether he was even alive. She felt so helpless and useless, lying there.

To her anger, she felt her throat begin to clog. The reality of it was finally sinking in. Erik could be dead.

She cried as quietly as she could on the couch, using the blanket to muffle her girlish little sobs. Why? Why had she pried? If she hadn't gone with Mr. Khan, none of this would have happened.

Christine rubbed her eyes, squishing out more tears onto her hand. For a long while, she laid there, sniffling and hiccoughing. What was she to do? She didn't want to wait until Mr. Khan showed up—if she saw him again at all, that is. Christine felt a rush of boiling anger and hatred toward him. If he ever dared to face her again, she would—she would—

Christine sighed a little. Really, what was there to do to him? Give him a good slap, maybe, but then what? Nothing would change what he did. Still, maybe he would come and he would tell her that Erik was fine, completely fine, and was waiting for her return…

She lay there, staring across the small, hot room. Raoul grunted a little and shifted in his sleep. Why had he been dragged back into this? She had done everything she could to keep him out of it all, yet now he was here, risking everything for her. She wanted him to drive her back to the city, give her a hug goodbye, and let her sort through her confused feelings. His involvement seemed to complicate things a thousand times over, because she still cared deeply about him and wanted his happiness—but she couldn't see him coming out of this scenario happy in any way.

Her eyes were aching, and she closed them, trying to get herself to relax and sleep. She wasn't sure what Raoul had planned for tomorrow, but she was sure that she probably needed to be coherent and understanding for it.

For a few hours, she dozed fitfully, forcing herself not to think of Erik too much. It only agitated her and made her anxious and restless. There was nothing to be done right now. It was torture, lying there and knowing that Erik could be somewhere, hurt and alone. She said a silent prayer, asking God to keep him alive and safe.

I know he's done bad things, but he needs me. Please make sure he's okay.

The sun finally crept into the front room, creating an orange glow that was only intensified by the bright shag carpet. When she saw Raoul stirring, she quickly pulled the blanket over herself and closed her eyes, turning her back to him.

After a while, the entire household was awake, and she felt Raoul put a hand on her shoulder and shake her gently.

"Christine?" he said softly. "It's time to get up."

She pretended to have had a very deep, long, and refreshing sleep, and she thanked the Iranian couple for their hospitality and extremely comfortable couch. Refusing offers of meals, Raoul gathered their things and, saying thanks one more time to the couple, pulled Christine out and to his car.

"Where are we going now?" she asked, pulling the seatbelt across her lap. She was tired and very hungry, and her head was hurting.

"There's a hotel a couple hours away," Raoul said. "But we can stop for food before we head out, if you want. I just didn't want to have to worry that nice couple about feeding us as well."

An hour later, they were zooming down the freeway again, and although her stomach was no longer complaining, she still felt sick.

A word was beating in her brain: Erik.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him at last.

He shot her a confused look. "We're going to a hotel. Nadir said he made reservations for us. We'll stay the night and then go to another one tomorrow—we have a long ways to go."

"No. I mean after. After all…this."

There was a pause, and then he said quietly, "I dunno. Pick up the pieces. Start over, I guess. We'll go somewhere new. I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

"But my singing!" she protested. "Raoul, I have job there."

"Look, it's not like you can go back there right now!" Raoul said. "We don't even know if he's actually dead. If he's not, we're just going to have to keep running. If he is…maybe we'll talk about going back. I have plenty to get us by for a while."

She felt a little choked at this. "What happened was an accident," she said quietly, looking out to the window. "It wasn't his fault. He didn't hurt me."

"Maybe not that time, but Nadir told me that he has some really serious mental problems. It's not your fault, baby, but…I mean, it was probably easy for him to manipulate you. You're just so nice and trusting that you didn't even realize what was happening. I think after some time away, you'll see what he was doing and realize that it's not like it could have ever worked between you two." Raoul's brow was furrowed, and his mouth was curved into a frown.

"Erik really cared about me," she insisted. "He just didn't know how to tell me. He's never been in love before."

She could see Raoul's lips tighten at the last sentence. "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," Raoul said. "But…it wasn't love, Christine. That's not how a healthy, normal person would express himself. He had big problems—problems you couldn't fix. Nobody could fix."

She was silent for a moment, watching her face in the dim reflection of the window. Her forehead was raw and bruised and swollen, and there were shadows under her eyes. Her hair was frizzy and her face was blotchy. She looked like a mess.

"Mr. Khan tricked me," she muttered quietly.

"He said it was the only way." Raoul visibly hesitated for a while, glancing over at her a couple times. "Christine…did he tell you about Iran?"

"What?" she replied. "What—like how they worked over there?"

"Sort of," he said, still sounding unsure, like he was debating whether to say anything or not. "Nadir told me…well…"

"What about Iran?" she said.

Raoul took a deep breath. "I guess that he was thrown in jail." It was obvious that he was determined not to say Erik's name, and it annoyed her, but she wasn't going to say anything about it.

"For what?" She didn't want to know the answer. Somehow it didn't surprise her that Erik had been to jail, but…it surprised her that he had been caught doing something and had been put in jail for it.

They drove for another little while, and she waited impatiently for his answer—even though she didn't want to know. Finally, he said,

"He raped a woman."

The air disappeared from her lungs. Instantly, the pounding in her head increased at a painful level.

"No, he didn't," she said blankly.

"You can't know that," Raoul replied.

"Yes I can," she shot back, feeling childish and upset and panicked. "He didn't. He wouldn't ever."

"Nadir somehow helped him escape from jail, and then they traveled to England and entered illegally. That's why Nadir's still here and not back in Iran. He can't go back or they'll put in him jail. And as soon as Nadir told me what had happened, I haven't been able to stop worrying about you." He cast her a sideways glance, and she noticed his hand grip the steering wheel tighter. "I just have to know. I need to help if I can, and…did—"

"Stop," she commanded instantly. "No. You're not going to ask me that."

He was silent, his mouth tight and grim-looking. Christine's stomach and head were churning, up and down and forward and backward in a horrible, nauseating motion. No—Erik didn't…he couldn't…It wasn't true.

She couldn't let it be.

The hotels were nothing fancy, but at least they weren't dirty and cheap. They were middle-class rooms, meant for middle-class businessmen or middle-class families out for a weekend vacation. Their rooms were always standard: two queen-sized beds, a bulky television, and a small bathroom. Christine spent most of the first two or three days sleeping or dozing. The bruising and swelling was receding, but the dizziness and confusion took much longer to go away. Raoul told her she probably had a mild concussion, which scared her. He helped her with that as well as her sprained wrist. As an athletic person, he had had lots of experiences with both injuries. Within three days, most of the pain in her wrist was gone, and she only felt a twinge when she bent it too far.

However, the absence of the pain left more time for worry. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to feel. Erik was hurt, and she couldn't get to him. The only hope she had was for Nadir Khan to appear and finally tell her what was happening.

She pestered Raoul constantly. "Is Mr. Khan coming today?" "Did Mr. Khan call you?" "Has Mr. Khan said anything to you?" "What did Mr. Khan say to you on the phone?"

Raoul didn't have answers, either. "I don't know when he's coming. I don't know what's going on. Sorry, Christine. We're just going to have to be patient."

Patience would not come to her. She had nightmares sometimes. Erik's death was always drifting in and out of her mind. What would she do if it was true? Another person she cared about…gone too soon.

And the guilt was eating away at her as well. If she hadn't followed Mr. Khan, then she and Erik would be living their old lives. It would have taken time, but maybe they could've slowly rebuilt that fragile relationship that they had once had.

Sometimes she daydreamed and imagined that he was fine. He was just looking for her. Christine spent a lot of time looking out of the windows of their hotel rooms, watching and wishing that a tall, black shape would appear below. Then he would find her and take her back.

It had been a week. A week, and no news, no nothing. She and Raoul spent a lot of their time in silence. He was pensive and anxious-looking, always checking his phone for messages or watching the news, as if something about Erik would appear. They were nervous for completely different reasons.

Christine didn't even try to explain herself to Raoul. He would never understand why she wanted Erik to come back and take her home. She wasn't sure she understood herself. After everything that had passed between them, everything she had learned, everything he had done…and she was looking out of windows, glancing over her shoulder, listening to the whispers of the night, hoping to see him or hear him, but nothing happened. She would lay in bed, listening to Raoul sleep in the bed next to hers, his breathing always deep and even. Once she blushed and remembered those few nights they had slept in the same bed—he had wanted different things. He still wanted different things, things she couldn't give him. And sooner or later, he would have to realize that.

One warm autumn day, she sat by the window. Raoul was napping on the bed. Christine carefully touched the sore spot on her forehead and tried to imagine what it would be like if Erik appeared. She would scream and run downstairs and throw her arms around him—even if he wasn't used to people touching him. She would squeeze him and probably cry into his shoulder.

As she imagined this, she blinked in surprise. Someone was down there. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the parking lot below had been vacant for the past half hour. But there was someone coming into the hotel…And she recognized him.

"Mr. Khan!" she said loudly, unthinkingly.

Her shout woke Raoul, and he sat up and blinked sleepily, running a hand through his hair.

"What?" he grunted.

"Mr. Khan is here!" she said, jumping down from the narrow window ledge. She ran over to the door and opened it, looking up and down the hallway as if Mr. Khan would be there already.

"Oh, good," Raoul said. He stood and stretched. "C'mon, close the door, Christine. He'll be up in a minute."

Christine obeyed, though she hovered near it, peering through the peek-hole every so often. Her stomach was twisting, and she was torn between relief and terror. His news would either make her the happiest person alive, or it would shatter her completely. And she had to beat him for what he did. She was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Raoul was watching her carefully, and she tried to contain herself for his sake, but she was too anxious.

"What do you think he'll say?" she said.

"Hopefully something good," Raoul said. "I don't want to have to keep running."

"Me neither," she said absently. She wanted to go back to the city and be with Erik.

A few moments later, there was a soft knock on the door, and Christine yanked it open, her eyes wide.

Mr. Khan looked exhausted. His clothes were wrinkly, and there were deep shadows under his tired eyes. Even though she felt a huge rush of emotion at seeing him, she kept it controlled, waiting first to hear what he had to say.

He entered the room, and she shut the door behind him. Mr. Khan and Raoul shook hands, and Christine hurried over beside the Iranian.

"Well?" she said breathlessly.

Mr. Khan was silent.

She turned white at his expression. The air seemed to disappear from her lungs. She stared at him.

"It's…He's…" she stuttered. Her vision was swimming, and her heart had stopped.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Khan said quietly.

Without another word, he held out the familiar black mask.