Thank you all so much for your reviews and support on this story. I never imagined I would get such a positive response from a story like this, and it really is what pushes me onward. I swear I never expected to write this much of it, but I am excited to continue, and I hope you all are too.

Reminder that this is a very twisted story, and this chapter especially may be very triggering to some. Please, read with caution, and don't forget to review.

Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 13

"Beautiful," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. He could barely believe she was there, and she was his. She was an absolute dream, standing there just a few feet away in the dim bedroom, the nightgown fitting her near to perfection. He drank in every inch of the exposed, smooth pale skin of her arms and legs; every strand of light hair framing her flushed face, her plump parted lips, glassy eyes…

Though unwilling to admit it to himself, he could see unmistakable fear in those eyes as he sauntered closer to her, despite all his attempts to make her relax. In fact, she was so drunk that she didn't even try to hide her pout, and a little whimper even sounded from her throat, as he got close enough to touch. Part of him was annoyed. He was doing all of this for her, to show his gratitude for what she had done for him. Did she always have to make things so difficult?

But, of course, the more logical part of him knew that maybe she didn't know what exactly his intentions were, and would probably need just a bit more soothing if he wanted this to be easy for him. He sunk to one knee in front of her, reaching around her back to take one of her hands in his. "What's the matter, baby?" he asked softly, squeezing her hand gently.

What was the matter? How could he possibly ask her that? He'd gotten her drunk, dressed her up like some doll he only wanted to use, to play with. Her thoughts were blurry and her head spun, and she could only shake her head, swallowing.

"Do you think I'm going to hurt you, Christine?"

After a long pause, she nodded her heavy head wordlessly.

He sighed. "Remember rule number two? If you do exactly as I say when I say it without argument, then I will never hurt you. I've told you this from the very beginning, sweetheart. You have nothing to be afraid of." His free hand came up to brush her pink cheek, finding it hot against his fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand me?"

For some reason, she found that incredibly funny, and she burst into a fit of giggles. "Sure, Sky," she slurred, unable to control the sarcasm dripping out of her tone. "Uh huh. That means a lot coming from you."

He rolled his eyes, knowing it was no use getting worked up by her disrespect when she couldn't really control it at the moment. Plus…her giggles really were adorable, and he was helpless to resist something so sweet. Of course, he wouldn't give up so easily. He would get his little Christine to sigh his name in pleasure by the end of the night, no matter what it took.

He rose to his feet, keeping her hand in his. "Come on," he demanded, pulling her with him to the living room. "Let's go watch TV."

She had no choice but to stumble behind him as he pulled her, keeping her free arm across her chest, feeling exposed under the brighter lights of the living room. He flicked them off, though, before pulling her to the couch with him and pushing her down onto the cool leather. The next thing she knew, the TV was on and Sky was sitting close to her, pulling her legs into his lap. The drink weighed her down, and she relaxed into the sofa, sighing heavily. She was very aware of her bare legs splayed across Sky's lap, the way his warm fingers trailed absentmindedly along her skin—up her calve, across her knee, along her thigh, and back again…

Trying to ignore it, she stared at the TV, her eyes having a hard time focusing. Everything looked so blurry, like it was moving in slow motion, and it made her laugh a little.

Unable to wait any longer, Sky leaned over, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and then kissing its supple warmth. He ignored how she stiffened. "I love your laugh," he murmured, trailing his lips up to her temple and then across her forehead. He felt her shiver beneath him when he allowed his nails to scratch gently down her thigh. "I love how soft your skin is. And your hair…" He rubbed her silky blonde strands between the fingers of his free hand, kissing down the other side of her face. "And, god, the way you smell." He took her lower lip between his teeth, biting it softly and then swallowing her whimper with a firm kiss. "You drive me crazy but, damn, do I love you for it."

He kissed her deep and fast, and it was difficult for her to keep up, especially when all she wanted to do was push him away to catch her breath. Her head was spinning, her blood racing underneath her skin as his warm tongue invaded her mouth, his groping hands hot on her already heated skin… She was burning; and whether it was from the alcohol or her traitorous body responding to Sky's attentions, she was unsure. She couldn't breathe.

Her clumsy hands finally found his chest, and she pushed with all her might until he finally pulled away, not looking very pleased about it. "S-sorry," she gasped, resting her dizzy head back against the arm of the couch. "I'm too hot. I can't."

"Mm, you are," he agreed with a smirk, leaning back in to kiss her neck, his hand trailing up the inside of her thigh. "Way too hot. Just relax. Let me touch you."

"No," she moaned stubbornly, clenching her legs together tightly and trapping his hand between them.

He dug his nails into her skin in warning, her defiance so frustratingly arousing that he groaned softly. "Would you rather sleep in the basement tonight, Christine?" he warned between wet kisses on her neck, with absolutely no intention to follow through with the threat. There was no way in hell he would let her out of his grasp tonight. "Or will you be a good girl and do what you're told?"

The basement? No, of course she didn't want that. Even in her drunken state she knew that much. She sighed heavily, reluctantly letting her body relax; tired of fighting when she knew she couldn't win anyway. She might as well let Sky get it over with. "Fine," she whimpered, shutting her heavy eyes. "Just…don't make it hurt."

He paused, his hand freezing in place against her upper thigh. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want it to hurt," she slurred. "I don't like pain."

"Oh, no, baby," he crooned, kissing her neck again. "No pain. Only pleasure, I promise. Remember last time? That felt good, didn't it?"

"No…"

"No? Don't lie to me. I could never forget the sweet sounds you made while I was doing it." And then, his hand was cupping her over her underwear, and she jumped a little, squirming her hips involuntarily against the contact. "Tell the truth. How did it make you feel?"

"…G-good. And then bad," she whined truthfully, hating the burning ache between her legs, hating how she began to lean in to his touch.

"Bad?" he rasped in question, biting her neck gently and enjoying her shudder.

She nodded. "Bad. And…dirty." She inhaled a sharp gasp when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her panties, gently fondling her in a way that had her biting down hard on her lip.

"You could never be bad, Christine. You are such a good girl…I only want to show you how much I love you."

It continued like that, Sky murmuring into her ear as he touched her, Christine hardly able to think as she was manipulated by his touch, his words. She found herself clutching at his hard, muscular arms through his shirt, completely at his mercy, just like the last time. Foreign noises escaped her lips, as well as pleas, protests…his wretched name. She did not know who this Christine was; the one who burned and begged and wanted, did not want to know her, remember her…

After the confusing, overwhelming pleasure consumed her completely, she sunk sated into the sofa and immediately fell asleep, her exhaustion no doubt aided by the alcohol she'd consumed.

He carried her limp body to bed and gently tucked her in before quickly taking care of his own demanding need in the bathroom. The scent of her was still thick in his head, the memories of her voice and writhing body still fresh in his mind, and it did not take long at all to find his own pleasure. Soon, he was in bed, possessively holding her against him to fall asleep, victorious.

She was not happy when she woke.

Her head was pounding and her mouth was uncomfortably dry, and she felt absolutely disgusting. Not only that, but Sky had woken her up later than usual, having been running late himself, so she was in a frantic rush to get ready for class. His pleasantry didn't seem deterred by their lateness, but she could tell he noticed her sour mood when she stomped out of the bathroom showered and dressed in khaki shorts and a loose fitting blouse, her hair thrown up in a lazy ponytail. Unfortunately, she knew even her grumpiness would do nothing to wipe the smug look from his stubble-covered face.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," he chuckled as she sat at the table with a huff. He set her a glass of juice and two Tylenol next to her breakfast. "Eat fast. We need to be out the door in ten minutes."

She took the pills eagerly, needing the relief for her aching head, washing them down with the juice. Sky watched her with an amused expression, and she pointedly avoided his gaze as she ate her eggs and toast, thankful for something to settle her churning stomach. She repressed the memories of the previous night as best as she could, fearing if she focused on them for too long it would make her sick. Still, she felt her cheeks redden as Sky stared at her with those dark, hungry eyes, no doubt thinking about the exact things she wanted to forget. Without meaning for them to, her eyes narrowed in a glare.

Sky's brow quirked upward at that, daring her, "Have something you want to say?"

She shook her head and looked down at the little remainder of her food, her stomach suddenly queasy again. Rising, she avoided his probing gaze as she quickly took their dishes to the kitchen sink.

"Come on, spit it out," he encouraged gently, having followed behind her. "We're a couple. We can talk these things through, Christine."

God, how delusional could one person be? She'd scream at him if she weren't so terrified of being punished. Instead, she only confessed as she rinsed their plates, thinking it safe to do so, "I'm frustrated, Sky. You got me drunk on a school night and woke me up late. My head hurts and I feel sick and…" she sighed, drying her hands with a hand towel before striding out of the kitchen and pulling on her sandals. "I'm just frustrated."

There was a long, tense pause, and her heartbeat quickened. "You could always stay home. In fact, I think that's probably a good idea since you're being an ungrateful little snob."

She whirled around to face him, horrified to find him being completely serious, his arms crossed as he glared down at her. It had been a trick, him encouraging her to tell him what was wrong, saying they could talk things through. She should have known. Duh, Christine. Idiot. She shook her head, stuttering incoherently.

Sky went on, shaking his own head in disappointment. "I expected better from you, Christine; especially because last night was for you. You know what? Maybe a day in the basement will make you appreciate all I do for you."

"No!" she wailed, frightened tears immediately surfacing. "Please, no! I'm so sorry, Sky, please…I am grateful. I swear." She went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his chest like a child. "I don't know why I acted like that. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me."

She began to shake violently when he did not return her embrace, terrified that she couldn't change his mind. Biting her lip, she decided to try a new tactic, looking up at him with what she hoped was a sincere expression even as her cheeks turned red at what she was about to say. "Last night was…very good, Sky. You made me feel s-so…good. I'm sorry for not telling you that sooner. I guess I'm just…embarrassed. This is all so new to me, you know? But I'm so sorry."

Sky couldn't tell whether his sweet girl was becoming a better actress or she actually meant what she was saying. Either way, he was powerless to resist her pretty words, couldn't not reassure her insecurities, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her lips softly. "Never be embarrassed, baby," he murmured warmly. "You were absolutely amazing. I'll be thinking about it all day."

Sighing internally in relief, she hoped she sounded convincing as she lied, "Oh, yeah…me too. Thank you, I promise I won't act ungrateful again." She allowed him to kiss her for another few seconds before reminding him gently that they were running late, and without further argument they were off, Christine able to breathe again.

But the sick feeling never quite left her even after she was safely dropped off at school.

Perhaps she had jinxed herself when she'd lied to Sky, telling him the she too would be thinking about…it all day. Never did she imagine that that would actually be the case.

She'd fervently hoped classes would be a substantial enough distraction to her gnawing memories, her crippling shame, but unfortunately, she had been wrong. Though she tried—God, did she try—to toss it all aside and focus on her professors' voices and what they were teaching, his voice was still in her mind. His disgusting words were still echoing in her head, making her face heat and her arms unconsciously cross around her chest as if to hold herself together.

So warm and wet…your body loves this. It can't lie to me.

How could she have enjoyed that? How could her body betray her in the worst of ways? She hated it, hated herself…hated how it all made her feel. Bad, good, horrible, wonderful, confused…

Say my name, Christine. Oh, yes, just like that. Again.

Hot tears filled her eyes, and she was thankful that no one sat close to her in the huge lecture room. She let her silent tears fall right there in class, knowing if she ran to the bathroom to sob like she really wanted to, Sky would hear.

But then, maybe she should. Maybe it would cause him to feel some sense of remorse, know for just a moment the weight of what he was doing to her….

She scoffed inwardly. Sky, feel remorse? It was a disgustingly hilarious thought. He wanted to break her. He wanted to ruin her life. He would never be sorry for any of her suffering, not when all he did was manipulate and use her, justifying it in the name of love! Even just that morning he made her think she would be safe in telling him what was really on her mind, only to throw it back in her face with his threats.

God, she hated him! How much longer could she handle living with him, when things would only get worse? She felt like she would go insane if she didn't get away from him, and soon, but saw no way on how to make it happen. It was all such a hopeless, cripplingly terrifying mess…

Class ended, and instead of going to the dining hall for lunch, she went to the library, her twisting stomach definitely not able to handle any sort of food. Plus, she knew she wouldn't be able to engage in any interaction if she were to run into her acquaintances at lunch. And so, she just grabbed a bottle of water from the vending machine in the library and signed into an open computer.

First, she checked her student email for anything important, and after responding accordingly, she caught up on her assignments and reading, needing the schoolwork to keep her mind busy. Luckily, it proved more efficient than being in class had, and she was able to focus on something other than the confusion and horror spinning around in her head for once.

It was such a welcome relief.

In the middle of reading, however, her mind wandered to voice lessons and Dr. Gabriel, wondering what the afternoon would bring. She looked forward to her lesson, knowing that the singing would make her feel better like nothing else could, familiar with the power music held over her, how it was like nothing else. She remembered how Dr. Gabriel had seemed pleasantly shocked by her voice, flushing slightly as she thought of the awed look in his strange, yellow eyes. Good, he'd told her, and she felt like such a simple compliment meant a lot coming from someone like him. Formal, abrupt, intimidating…

She checked the time and gathered her things, making her way to the music building, trying and failing not to notice the man who still followed far behind her, her sense of peace short-lived.

The small practice room was not quite practical for pacing back and forth, and yet, Erik somehow managed. He was being ridiculous, he knew, and yet that did not deter him from being jittery, glancing up every few seconds to the door, willing Miss Daae to enter. He'd forced himself not to watch the video of her singing at all since that evening he'd Internet stalked her like some disgusting creep, and he was eager for obvious reasons to hear her sing again…to simply see her again.

When he heard the doorknob turn he immediately straightened, forcing himself to appear his usual collected self. She entered quietly and smiled at him, but the sight made his fists clench at his sides even as his stomach twisted at her loveliness. She looked especially pale today, her eyes slightly swollen and red rimmed, her hair in a messy ponytail, and he could not tell if she were sick or emotionally distressed. Or even both.

"Miss Daae," he greeted with a nod. "Are you…well today?" He was not used to caring about other peoples' welfare, and the question tasted strange coming out of his mouth. He hoped he'd seemed nonchalant in asking.

She flushed, biting her lip. Even he could tell something was off about her…

Oh, you know, got molested last night and threatened this morning for not acting like I appreciated it. Normal stuff.

Repressing a shudder, she nodded, trying to smile reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling a little sick today, nothing major. How are you?"

He swallowed, not used to having anyone ask about his wellbeing either. "I am fine. Will your voice be affected?"

"No, no, my throat is fine. Heh."

What is the matter, then? He wanted to probe, but knew that would not be appropriate. It was none of his business. "All right, then. Let us begin with some instruction in breathing and posture…" The main negative thing that had stuck out to Erik during the girl's last lesson was her lack in technique, and he used a good chunk of time showing her the proper way to hold herself, the correct way to breathe while she sang. He would get into the little things about her voice as they went on, but he knew how much a difference proper stance and breathing would make alone.

Dr. Gabriel was a very focused teacher, and an excellent one at that, Christine found. There were a lot of things Professor Chan had not taught her, and she admired his knowledge. He could be a bit abrasive when his patience wore thin, but she didn't take it personally; she'd pretty much guessed what a perfectionist he was from the moment she met him and he refused to shake her hand. Today, however, he'd needed to touch her a few times in order to perfect her stance, and the slight brushings against her were feather light and barely there, and somehow had still brought a deep blush to her cheeks. She'd hoped he did not see; for she was sure the blush lingered even after he went to sit at the piano.

It was weird.

She even noticed a difference in her scales when they began a warm up, amazed at the quick improvement already. They had worked through most of the lesson, and Erik asked if she would like to sing her song from Tuesday again to end with. Agreeing enthusiastically, she quickly dug in her backpack for her sheet music and handed it to him, buzzing with excitement. The music was already thrumming in her soul, and she couldn't wait to release it, especially now with her improvements.

She felt his glowing eyes on her as she began to sing and, oddly, it did not make her as nervous as she would have expected. She closed her eyes and let the music consume and pour out of her, the feeling so freeing, so powerful….

This time, her song was even more soul wrenching, and he died a thousand slow and painful deaths as her voice encompassed his entire being once again. His eyes barely strayed from her, and he nearly fumbled in his playing on multiple occasions. Of course, he did not, but still, nearly was bad enough. The angel looked as radiant as she sounded while she sang, and his heart thumped painfully in his chest as he watched her. That was the definition of beauty. That was something he could never, never have.

And that would be the very death of him. He was sure of it.