I am back with an update for you all! Warning: this chapter got really twisted really fast, and it's probably the most vivid so far. Please read with caution. I thought it was going to be a somewhat "chill" chapter, but...guess not. Oops.

Also, thanks to questions from reviewers, I created a tumblr blog (erikhasmysoul) to keep you guys updated and to answer any questions about the fic and whatnot if you would like to give it a follow.

Reviews keep me writing. Thank you all so much for your support.

Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 15

There were always two different voices in his mind that argued with each other: the logical side and the desiring side.

It's been an hour, that's plenty. Bring her back up and hold her and apologize and shower her with kisses.

No. You need to let her know who is boss. She'll never learn if you sway so easily. You've been doing so well.

He groaned softly to himself, as he lay sprawled on his bed, wanting nothing more than to listen to his former thoughts. But of course he knew that would get them nowhere. It was his fault for pushing her too hard that they were even in this situation in the first place, and he had a lot to think about.

Sky was sick with the memory of seeing Christine running away from him. If there was one thing in the world he wouldn't be able to live it, it was her escaping from him before he could earn her heart. If she could just hold on, Sky knew she would learn to love him. He would be so good to her from now on; would give her whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it, be a good listener and a gentle comforter and a light-hearted charmer…

It was going to be difficult. Especially since the longer time spent with her, the harder it was to keep himself from her. She was just so fucking tempting.

But he would try. He only hoped that she would do the same for him.

Well…she'd better.

Something Christine silently struggled with the most since her time with Sky was her faith.

It steadily faded to emptiness inside of her as she suffered down in the dark, haunted with memories of the worst moments here, cut and touched and pleasured and tortured and soiled and ruined and always, always watched…

It was only a matter of time before she crumbled. There was only so much one person could take, and she'd never been all that strong. In fact, she'd always been childish in some ways; ignorant to the horrors of the world, figuring those awful things would never happen to her. Not when she had her God and her Mama and Papa watching over her.

Was this her punishment, then? For always living in blissful ignorance, trusting other-worldly beings to keep her safe somehow, so now the universe was giving her multiple hard slaps to the face? Perhaps she deserved this, then.

No…no one could deserve this agony, this crippling fear, this shame. Though she had her flaws, Christine had always been good. Kind and giving and serving and pure…she'd never coveted or swore or stole. She'd prided herself on being a good person. Besides the anger she'd felt after her parents' death, the only negative thoughts she'd had towards others was experienced during her time here with Sky.

There could be no way that this was justified toward her…could there?

Her face in her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs, she rocked back and forth, moaning her misery. If she could just keep her eyes shut, she could pretend that she had some control in being in the dark, as if it were her choice to be blind and cold and alone…

Alone.

Strange. She'd always been on her own, and yet, she never felt more alone than she did here with Sky…

Always with Sky.

She would go insane. She already felt insane. There was no escaping him. No escaping what would inevitably happen to her.

Keeping her eyes firmly squeezed shut, she brought one of her fists to her mouth to muffle her scream, trying to remember how to breathe.

And then, something strange happened.

Calm, Christine, a glorious, crooning voice told her inside her mind, and, miraculously, she was able to obey it just a little.

She must be really going crazy, then. It was a poorly imitated manifestation of the voice she'd heard earlier that day—she still wasn't even sure it had been Erik's voice; surely no human could have a voice that beautiful—but the fact that she heard it inside her head now had to say something to her state of mental health. And the fact that she willed the imaginary voice to speak again didn't help any.

You will survive this. Patience.

Did she dare believe the voice? How she wanted to!

Before she could decide whether she did or not, however, she heard the basement door open and footsteps coming down the stairs to fetch her.

Though they only had lessons on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Erik found himself extremely depressed when he did not see Christine at all that afternoon on campus the next day. He remembered last Friday, how he had found her sitting at the bench, waiting for her ride, and the small conversation they'd had. How silly of him to get his hopes up as he left for the day, hoping to see her sitting there once again, alone and beautiful and deep in thought about who knew what.

It was likely silly of him, but he could not help but consider that he might be the one at fault for her absence. How foolish of him to have used the full force of his voice on her the previous day! Perhaps she had gone home that evening and realized just how strange and terrifying and grotesque he was, so much so that she could not come to school at all in risk of coming into contact with the monster once more.

Cruel thoughts continued to swirl around his mind even as he returned home that afternoon, and later still when he took Sasha on his evening walk. The poor lad whined up at Erik every few minutes, knowing something was bothering him. He gave Sasha an extra treat when they returned and a generous scratch to the ears in hopes of assuring the dog that he would be fine.

But he never would be. Not when the most angelic creature that had ever existed was out there with somebody else, holding Erik's stone cold heart in her small, perfect hands.

Just as Erik decided his intention to let out his anguish on the piano for the rest of the night, the doorbell rang. Sasha barked, alerting his master as if he assumed Erik hadn't heard the bell himself, and Erik shook his head, huffing out an annoyed breath. "Hush!" he commanded once, and the dog fell quiet, still growling cautiously as Erik made his way to the door.

He swore quietly in annoyance as he looked through the peephole, confirming his suspicion. He opened the door with reluctance, yellow eyes narrowed at the old man's expectant, sheepish smile.

"What do you want, Khan?" Erik grumbled.

Nadir chuckled. "Why do you always assume that I want something? Maybe I just wanted to bring you a nice, home cooked meal out of the kindness of my heart." Indeed, he proceeded to hold out a large dish covered in foil.

Erik scowled. "I seem to have forgotten the part where I invited you—" he stopped, catching a whiff of the food Nadir brought through the nose holes of his mask. The aroma brought back a world of memories, and his lips very nearly twitched up into a smirk. "You are kidding me. Is that…?"

"Yep, tater-tot casserole. I remembered how much you loved it as a teenager and thought I'd make it for you like I would then."

Erik blinked. "I am thirty now."

"So? Come on. Refuse this delicious casserole. I dare you."

After a long moment, Erik snatched the dish away from Nadir, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Come in, you insufferable old man." He waved Nadir in with his free hand, shutting the door behind them.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Nadir chuckled. "Sasha!" he then cheered, the dog immediately jumping up on the man and greeting him with enthusiastic kisses. The older man rumbled with fond laughter. "Good to see you, champ."

Though Erik would die before admitting it aloud, he actually enjoyed Nadir's company for the rest of the evening. They ate the entire ridiculously unhealthy casserole, drank whiskey that Nadir had also brought, and watched some stupid crime-drama show on the television that neither of them enjoyed. Erik even found himself laughing with the Iranian at the ridiculousness of it; the food in his—for once—full belly and the warm alcohol making him feel rather relaxed. It was quite a change…and perhaps even a welcome one.

They talked of nothing important, until Nadir eventually broached the topic of work. "So," he said when they were both glassy eyed and heavily slumped in their chairs in the living room. "How are you adjusting with your classes? Liking everything so far?"

Erik rolled his eyes through a hearty gulp of whiskey. "I'd rather not talk about work on a Friday night," he grumbled. "In fact…that is just what I was beginning to forget. So thank you kindly for bringing it back to my attention."

Nadir did not miss the sarcasm in Erik's tone, and he frowned seriously. "What's wrong, Erik? Maybe I can help."

Erik laughed, a loud, humorless chortle, and some voice in the back of his clouded mind warned him to shut up. But the alcohol swirling seductively through his body had other plans. It had been a very, very long time since he'd had alcohol of this capacity, and he was just now realizing he might have taken it easier. "No one, least of all you, could possibly help a lovesick corpse." Ah, well. Too late now.

The Iranian's thick brows shot upward, and he clutched the arms of Erik's chair to keep from falling out in surprise. "Love? Erik! With whom? This is amazing!" He cleared his throat. "And you are not a corpse. Stop that."

Another giggle burst through Erik's thin lips. "Oh, Nadir," he groaned drunkenly, yellow eyes closing heavily as they pictured the fair-haired angel behind his lids. "She is the most cruel demon to ever possess me, and yet the most pure angel you could ever imagine. I am dying every second she is not mine."

Nadir gaped, having never heard Erik speak of any person in such a way. Ever. In any state. "What—" he choked. "Who…who is it, Erik? One of the female professors?" He tried to picture one that Erik could possibly be speaking of, but the only females he could conjure up in his mind were the elderly music professors at the university.

Erik rested his head on the back of his chair, feeling very tired suddenly. Still, his loose tongue did not relent, even though he barely had the energy to speak any longer. "Oh, no, no, no. Not a professor; an angel and d-devil…" He sighed heavily, his eyes not opening again. "She is killing me, Na…dir…"

"Erik? Erik!" It was no use. Erik's light snore began a few moments later, and Nadir groaned in disappointment. His curiosity burned; who was this woman that had Erik so enchanted? He had never shown an interest in romance before, having always laughed when Nadir would allude to him possibly finding someone someday. Of course, Nadir could sense the pain behind the façade, and it often made his heart ache for the younger man. Especially when he knew, deep down, how difficult it would be for a woman, or anyone really, to be able to handle seeing Erik's face.

The poor man. He'd been through so much.

Nadir sighed and took a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle—nearly empty now; he hadn't realized just how much Erik had drunk—and stared blankly at the television. Sasha sat at Erik's feet; their combined, heavy breathing soothing and making Nadir's eyes feel heavier.

The last thought he had before falling asleep is how much he hoped Erik would find happiness someday. Despite everything, he deserved it.

But he knew the odds were not in Erik's favor. And it broke his heart.

Christine sat criss cross on the living room floor, all of her school books and papers strewn about the space around her, a worried crease in her forehead. "Hey, Sky?" she called.

"What is it, baby?" He wiped his hands on the hand towel that hung decoratively off the oven handle, stepping into the living room and looking down at Christine expectantly.

She began putting her things back into her backpack. "Do you think you can drop me off a little early tomorrow? I have an essay I need to type out and print before my first class. It's due when we walk in and I just remembered."

"Of course," he agreed easily with a warm smile. "How early?"

"Just like twenty minutes, if that's okay," she said as she zipped up her backpack and stood. "I've already written it on paper, but my professor wants it typed. Which I can do in the library."

Sky figured he could just let her use his laptop, but he wasn't sure he could trust her with that quite yet. Though her behavior had been phenomenal over the weekend—maybe even the best it's ever been since she'd been with him—he needed to be safe for now.

"Sure. It's no problem at all, sweetheart."

Christine sighed in relief, smiling up at Sky as nicely as she could manage. "Thank you very much. I can breathe a little easier now, heh."

"No need to stress. You're a great student. Now go wash up, dinner's almost ready." He kissed the top of her head tenderly before striding back into the kitchen.

After dinner they sat together on the couch, Sky playing with her hair as they watched TV. Their weekend had actually been kind of nice, Christine had to admit to herself, especially after the nightmare that Thursday was. Sky was definitely trying to be better like he'd promised, she could tell. He hadn't touched her or kissed her inappropriately, hadn't threatened her or made any passive-aggressive comments. He took her shopping and bought her food and ice cream and whatever else she wanted. Though he did make her miss class on Friday, he didn't seem at all hesitant to let her go tomorrow, and for that she was grateful. The last thing she needed was to add stress about school to her plate.

Her stomach somersaulted when she thought about seeing Erik on Tuesday, however. For some odd reason, she couldn't quite get him off her mind. Perhaps it was the memory of how wonderful she had felt during their voice lesson, or the memory of his voice infiltrating her very being…

And then she remembered the dream she had had the night before, and an embarrassed blush tinted her face crimson. Thank God Sky had his eyes focused on the television screen.

There was no way to tell how such a dream occurred, having never had a dream of that...energy before in her entire life. It was a shock that it did not wake her up, even though she'd always slept like the dead. Her parents used to joke with her that she could sleep through the apocalypse, and she usually forgot her dreams as soon as she woke. But this dream… she vividly remembered a tall, dark, faceless figure with cold, spidery hands and the voice of an angel, touching her...the way Sky had before…

There wasn't a doubt in her mind on who it was.

Should she have felt disgusted, ashamed, like she did with Sky? Was it weird that she didn't? Was it wrong that she secretly hoped to dream the same thing tonight?

She shook those confusing thoughts aside, thinking about her song choice for her quarterly performance instead, and hoping Erik would approve of it. She'd sung a hymn for her last school performance and it had gone really well, but she knew her heart would struggle with being fully committed to a hymn at the present time. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was the pointlessness of passionless music. This time, she picked a moving, classical mourning ballad that summed up her grief for her parents perfectly. It would be difficult to get through, surely, but she would do her best for them.

Like most nights, Sky's playing with Christine's hair lulled her to sleep quickly, and he carried her to bed at around ten. Things had been going so well the past few days, and he was pretty ecstatic about it. He couldn't wait to take her to meet his family next weekend, and he hoped she would be excited too. He would have to remember to tell her about the trip tomorrow.

After stripping down to his boxers and flipping the light off and ceiling fan on, Sky crawled into bed next to Christine, whose heavy breathing made him confident she wouldn't wake even if he'd jumped on the bed and shouted. He pressed his front to her back, wrapping an arm around her, excitement curling deep in his belly and burning his skin.

He'd tried. He really did…

But, he hadn't been able to control himself last night.

However, he had been successful in not waking her up, which was insanely thrilling. And he figured there was no point in trying to resist now. Yes, he knew it was pathetic and just plain sad to take pleasure from a sleeping girl, but no one had to know...

Thankfully, the girl had started dressing for bed immediately following dinner since she had the habit of falling asleep early. Saved him trying to dress her for bed himself, which he wouldn't mind, of course, but it would be more likely for her to wake up from being moved so much. Tonight she had just thrown on a baggy t-shirt and cotton shorts, but that didn't matter much to him. What mattered was the warm, silky skin underneath.

His hand slowly crept under her shirt, flattening his palm against her soft stomach and refraining from groaning as he stiffened. She squirmed a little in her sleep in response to the feel of him, and he couldn't stop himself from grinding along her backside, breathing heavily at the feel. Fuck.

He snuck his other arm under her side gently, ghosting that hand upward until it cupped her breast, her nipple slowly hardening around the attention of his tender fingers. She squirmed again, a little sigh escaping her lips, and Sky greedily savored the friction. He already craved release, but he wanted to move slower this time; really enjoy this.

The hand against her stomach traveled slowly down, sneaking under the waistband of her shorts, barely brushing her atop her panties. A breathy, quiet moan and more squirming from Christine followed, and Sky paused all movement for a moment, trying to calm himself down. His heart raced in his chest, his stomach clenching as he threatened to burst so soon. God, what was he, some inexperienced teenager? How did she still manage to have this affect on him?

After somewhat getting himself under control, he slipped his hand underneath her underwear, touching her as softly as he could manage. Damn it, she was so warm and wet and tight around his fingers, and he could only imagine how fucking wonderful she would feel wrapped around him.

Her breathing quickened as his moistened fingers found her sweet spot, and he focused on it, meeting her movement with the bucking of his own hips against her delectable rear. Her soft moans steadily intensified, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer, so when she soon shuddered and spasmed around his fingers, crying out her release quietly, he allowed himself to cross that edge as well, clinging to her tightly and burying his face into her hair to muffle his moan.

He stayed still and silent, cautious for the minutes following, waiting for her breathing to return to normal to make sure she hadn't woken. He felt extremely smug when he realized he had been successful yet again, and after quickly cleaning himself up and changing into sweats, he slipped back into bed next to her and draped a lazy arm around her, blissful sleep finding him effortlessly.