A/N: HEY GUYS I'M SO SORRY! I've been super busy lately because I'm doing camp all summer and am currently trying to learn Hungarian for my latest show, which is a lot of fun. (If you can guess which musical it is I'll give you lots and lots of virtual cookies. Hint: Uh uh). My updates are going to be kind of sporadic throughout the summer just because of camp and I apologize in advance.

Oh, and to Annoyed Guest: When I don't update, it's not because I choose not to, or lack the motivation, or forget. It's because I simply don't have time. Sometimes life is unpredictable. Your "reminders" only serve the purpose of reminding me that people actually care about the story, and for that I thank you. However, if you're "growing quite tired of having to remind me to update my story on time" then don't feel the need to. I always update as soon as I can. There's no need to be rude about it.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Alison woke up the next morning with tear tracks on her cheeks and forgot for a moment why. Then it all came back to her. A hand hitting her cheek, the redness of anger and pain, slamming the door in Erik's shocked face. Erik! She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, running her palms over her face and into her hair.

Anger and pain rushed through her at the thought of him. The slap had touched something deep and private inside her. It had broken down the confidence she had had in him. He had promised over and over that he would never hurt her, never cause her pain intentionally. She had known he was a violent man, but she had never thought he would hit her. She had always thought that she was the exception to his rules about other people. Now she wasn't so sure.

Am I overreacting? she asked herself. It was just one slap and he looked so sorry afterwards…

It's not just a slap, she reminded herself. He could apologize this time. I would believe it and welcome him back. But now I can't trust him. When I argue with him, it'll always be in the back of my mind now. What if I say or do something wrong and he hits me again? I don't want to get into one of those relationships where the girl is so scared of the guy that she's trapped in a relationship she doesn't want to be part of.

Erik would never do that, her heart supplied. He loves you.

He can't control himself, her brain argued back. I know that he loves me, but he still has a temper. I can't trust him anymore–

Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. She picked it up quickly and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, honey." Sadie's voice sounded tinny over the phone. "It's time for breakfast."

"I'll be down in a moment," Alison replied, and hung up.

She got dressed and reluctantly walked down to breakfast, not wanting to have to face Erik. She entered the room at a snail's pace and sat in her usual chair, trying to hide her nerves.

Sadie came in holding Étienne, and sat him down in his usual chair. Michael followed with eggs and bacon for everyone. Normally they would have looked delicious, but Alison's stomach rebelled at the thought of eating them with Erik's leg or elbow brushing hers at every movement. The close contact usually thrilled her, but now the thought of it made her angry and scared all at the same time.

Her eyes flicked to the door, expecting to see Erik walk in at any moment, but he wasn't coming. He was usually the first one at the table; despite his insistence that he didn't eat, he was always there in time for breakfast.

Maybe he just doesn't want to have to talk to me and is too much of a coward to face it.

They all sat and waited for Erik, but as fifteen minutes went by and he didn't arrive, Sadie and Michael grew worried.

"Alison, can you go and check on Erik? I think something might have happened to him," Sadie said, concerned.

Alison pressed her lips together in annoyance. "Why? Maybe he just overslept or something." But she knew that wasn't the case.

"Well someone's being rude today," joked Michael. "It'll only take five seconds."

"But–"

"He's your boyfriend. You would be the most welcome in his room."

Alison sighed. "Fine." She pushed her chair back, making it scrape along the floor, and walked quickly upstairs. She knocked sharply on his door and waited. No sound came from within. She knocked again.

"Erik? It's time for breakfast. If you don't want to come down, be my guest. Just thought you should know." She listened for any acknowledgement that he had heard, but none came.

"My parents aren't going to let me alone until you give some sort of response, so you might as well save us both the trouble." Irritation saturated her voice. There was still no answer from his room. A hint of concern crept through her anger. He was usually awake at this time, and in light of what had happened she thought he would be playing the piano. But everything was quiet. Too quiet.

"If you don't answer me, I'm coming in!" she threatened, trying to get him to say something. There was no reply. Pushing a breath through her nose, she banged his door open and stood staring, shocked, at the sight within.

The room was empty.

The bed was made perfectly and all of the clothes she had bought him were hanging up neatly in the closet. The sheet music, which had threatened to take over at least half of the room, was gone without a trace. It was all too neat.

A feeling of panic began to rise in her throat and she tried to quash it down. I'm angry with him, remember? She looked around the room almost frantically, looking for any hint as to where he had gone.

Her eyes landed on a white envelope that lay on the bed with her name on it in Erik's handwriting. She ran to pick it up and tore the envelope in her haste to open it.

Dear Angelique,

I am sorry for our quarrel last night and I do not deny that it was entirely my fault. Upon reflection, I realized that I was overreacting and not thinking straight. You truly were not trying to insult me and I understand that now.

I am also sorry for the harm I did you. I have broken the promise I made to you that I would never hurt you. My apologies, however, are not enough to mitigate the truth of what I have done. You know that I am a murderer and I could kill you in a moment of anger. Until yesterday, I did not think that remotely possible. Now, however, I must reconsider.
I cannot trust myself anymore and I am sure that you cannot trust me either. So I have decided that it is best for me to leave. I do not wish to, but I fear I have no choice.

Both your life and Étienne's will be better without me in them. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day, then I will be forever grateful.

I have given you back the clothes. I do not wish to take more from you than I already have.

Goodbye and good luck with your final year of college. I have no doubt that you will do something more worthy with your life than I could ever give you.

I will always lo

Your obedient servant,

Er O.G.

Her legs gave out from under her as she sank onto the bed. Thoughts and emotions whirled through her head. She couldn't decide whether to be angry, scared or sad. She was still angry from the fight, angry that he had made a decision for the two of them without asking how it would affect her, angry that one man's absence could hurt her so much. She was scared for him. No matter how much he said he knew about the real world, there was no way that he would be able to fend for himself. He had refused to leave the house in daylight ever since he had arrived. His English was good enough, but he had no money, no job, and no real sense of the present. He could have gotten hit by a car, she worried. He could have been mugged or shot in an alleyway by now and I would never know. Just the thought of losing him like that sent fear and pain all through her body and mind.

His absence opened up the hole in her heart that she had been trying to fill after he returned. Its aching pressure filled her up, returning with a vengeance from where she had tried to drive it away. She had been so close to having everything she had ever wanted and all that had disappeared like morning mist with the touch of hand to cheek.

Fighting back tears, she left the room, walking down the stairs to the table with the letter in her hand. Her parents' smiles melted away when they saw the expression on her face.

"What is it, Alison?" Sadie asked, concerned.

"He's gone." She didn't even recognize her voice as it came out of her mouth.

"What? Just like that? We need to send people out looking for him. Someone must have taken him–"

"No." Alison's voice was firm.

"I don't understand," replied Sadie, confused. "Don't you want to find him?"

"He left of his own volition and we should respect that." Defeat showed itself in every line of her face. "Besides, if he doesn't want to be found, you can be sure that you will never find him."

"Alison, honey–" Sadie reached out to her, trying to comfort her.

She stepped away from her mother's touch. "May I go to my room, please? I'm not hungry."

"All right. If there's anything you need–"

"There isn't." Alison threw her words like a knife as she walked quickly up to her room, leaving silence behind her.

"Grandma? What's going on? Where's Daddy?" asked Étienne, trying to understand why everyone wasn't happy anymore.

"Your daddy has gone away for a little while and we're not sure he'll be back," Michael told him quietly.

Étienne's face fell and he began to cry.

Upstairs, Alison shut the door and tears slipped down her cheeks. After she had sobbed her heart out, she wiped her face with one hand.

She sat back to begin the business of trying to get over the only man she had ever loved. Again.