Please forgive me for the wait on this chapter. It gave me a lot of trouble, despite the fact that I knew it would come all along.

A very, very heavy and triggering chapter ahead. You've been warned.

Don't forget to review.

Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 26

Returning back to her body was a strange experience.

She had left it earlier, unsure of exactly when it happened. Perhaps it was the moment it had been pierced, invaded in the worst way, or maybe before that, when she'd realized what was coming. She wished she could have stayed away, embraced the numbness for a few more precious moments, but of course, she had to face herself at some point. Had to face the pain. Excruciating, torturous pain of every possible kind.

"When...when will you save me?"

"As soon as you allow me."

That dream that seemed so long ago flickered into her memory, and she clung to it for a moment, grasping at any chance to think of something other than what had just happened. It was painful to do so, however. Knowing things would only turn out like this.

Christine wished she could go back to that night; convince her former self not to dare to hope that it was even possible to be saved from this. Maybe then this pain would not be so bad; knowing she had been doomed from the start. Knowing all her desperate prayers would be not only met with indifference, but completely shattered.

She wished it did not hurt so badly. But it did.

Oh, it did. Everything did. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually…

So much worse now that her body had been used up, violated, broken, just as much as her spirit had been torn to shreds.

And now, her will to live was nonexistent.

So many things she wished she could have done differently.

Truthfully, she was torn between a couple different options: she could have fought harder from the very start. Go up to any and every person she saw and beg for help. If this were to be her fate, what would be the point in prolonging it? It would be better to know from the start who he really was, rather than allow him to make her believe he might have some good in him. That his feelings for her could possibly be real. That he was incapable of the horror he'd just thrust upon her.

And then there was the other option… and she knew it was sick to even consider, but would it have been better for her if she hadn't resisted him so much? If she had been more obedient and willing to do the awful things he'd wanted… Would this fate hurt much, much less?

Christine could not cry now, even as the numbness faded completely, even as everything that had just happened sunk in deeper with every passing second. How could she, when taking even the tiniest breath was hard enough to do?

The agony was excruciating.

Besides, if she did cry, it's not like anyone would care, anyone would hear… not God, nor her parents, the universe, Erik… especially not Erik.

Except. Except.

He had left her—the mere thought of him was still enough to make her stomach roil—naked and bleeding and alone on the basement floor without a backward glance.

But not before giving a sloppy kiss to her frozen mouth.

Not before murmuring tauntingly into her ear, "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. Because unless you decide to be my good girl again, I'll keep you down here for me to use whenever I want." He had paused to bite her lower lip. "Which, believe me, will be a lot."

She didn't think she had any fear—anything at all, really—left, but even just remembering those words sent a shudder through her spine, and she felt the urge to vomit again like her body had the second it was left alone.

No. Christine would die before he touched her again.

Her options were limited, to say the least. She was in way too much pain to possibly drag herself up the stairs, which he had to have known; otherwise he would have chained her down before leaving her alone. But she had to take action before he came back…

She weakly craned her head around, wincing as she did. Even the tiniest movements hurt.

The basement held nothing of use, of course. The only objects she could see in the darkness were the silhouettes of the chains and cuffs, the bolts in the floor. They were a few feet away from where she lied, but Christine managed to slowly shift her way over to them until she was able to weakly run her palm over the objects, trying to find a sharp or blunt enough surface to…

Hmm. The bolt in the floor might work, if she could muster enough strength. If God would grant her just one shred of mercy after everything she'd been through.

She grunted quietly in effort as she pulled herself up onto her knees, the pain of it making her sweat and shake. It was so great that she wanted to cry out, but she refrained. She could not be heard if she had a prayer of being successful.

Not even allowing herself time to think about it, Christine held her breath for a moment, then threw herself down at full force—using her entire body and every little bit of strength she had left—onto the bolt, the edged surface cutting directly into her head.

The last thing she felt besides the new, blinding pain and the warm stickiness of blood dripping down her face was a sense of peace.

Surely, it would all be over now.

The mixed feelings weren't easy to deal with.

On one hand, he was very nearly drunk with bliss. Sky felt almost unstable as he climbed the basement stairs, in a trance-like state as he shut the door behind him. He had to lean his back against the door for a moment, had to cherish the moment. Releasing a shaky sigh, his mind began to race with newfound memories, the scent and feel of her still all over his skin…

But then, he felt horrible too.

It was so damned frustrating. Couldn't he just enjoy his high, for once?

Especially this high; the high from finally having Christine the way he'd craved since he first laid eyes on her. He'd never pictured it happening in that way, but it had happened just the same. And he had to admit that some aspects of taking her that way were ridiculously hot.

The way she had gone from defiant and furious to devastated and pleading. The way her body had fought him vigorously, slowly lost strength, stopped altogether. Her tears, her whimpers of pain… he would never forget it all for as long as he lived.

Huh. Maybe Sky was more of a sadist than he'd ever guessed before. He'd always found the aspect of that kind of thing attractive in the past, but now…

He already itched for more.

He wasn't a complete monster, though. There was guilt. There was shame.

And a whole lot of it.

Sky had wanted their first time to be sweet, gentle, romantic… had wanted to make her feel safe and comfortable. He'd always imagined making her come at least twice before actually fucking her, so that she would be more than ready to receive him. He'd always pictured how shy she would be, at first, the way she would slowly come out of her shell and respond to his touches. If he showed her how beautifully he could make love to her, she would definitely want it again and again. That had been his main goal when considering her first time…

But the fucking girl had to ruin everything.

Christine did this to herself. She has nobody but herself to blame.

Yes. She had known what was coming. Sky had made it clear to her from the beginning. And now she would suffer the consequences for as long as it took.

Even so, Sky knew there was no way he would leave Christine the way he had for long. She needed a lot of aftercare. Of course, he would have to knock her out before cleaning her up and tending to her wounds, but it would be better than leaving her with nothing. Maybe it would even soften her back up toward him…

First things first, though, he needed a shower, and fast. His body was sticky with sweat and Christine's blood, and he had exerted so much physical force that he was sure to be sore tomorrow. A cold shower would not only clear his head, but would soothe his aching muscles. He strode to the bathroom, threw off his dirty clothes and tossed them aside before turning on the tap.

Traffic had been worse than he'd expected. By the time Erik turned into the correct apartment complex, it had been well over an hour since Christine's performance. He hoped fiercely that nothing awful had happened to her in that time, but something twisting in his gut told him that that was highly unlikely. He forced a breath through clenched teeth, tightening his hold on the steering wheel as he approached the gates.

At least he made it. He would find her now. He would save her.

Erik had to be thankful for his criminal past once again when the apartment complex's gate code machine was nearly too easy to crack. It only took him a few brief tries before one of the generic codes he had entered on the keypad granted him access. Nothing about his entrance would seem suspicious to anyone who could have seen, which by the looks of it, no one had. It was Friday, anyway; most people were out enjoying the weekend night.

Erik's stomach twisted, knowing he was near his Christine once again, wondering what she must be going through at the moment. Was she afraid? Had she been hurt?

Truthfully, Erik had no idea what he would find once he reached the man's home. He might even find a scene that seemed perfectly normal to an outsider's perspective. But Erik knew better; after the performance Christine put on tonight, there was no way she hadn't been in some sort of danger. Worse now, most likely, after her song.

Fists clenching tighter over the steering wheel, he weaved around the small complex's streets a little faster, searching for the correct apartment number.

The unit he sought was on the ground floor, and it was easy to recognize Payne's silver Acura parked in the covered spot of the same number. Erik easily found an empty guest spot across the small street, and he slid into it smoothly, immediately cutting his lights and engine.

Before exiting the vehicle, Erik quickly scanned the area, checking all nearby lawns and balconies. Most were empty, save for an elderly woman taking her small dog outside, and a younger man smoking a cigarette up on his porch. He didn't have to wait too long for both people to disappear back into their homes, but it still felt like an eternity. His nails had dug impatiently into his legs as he'd waited.

Heart already racing, Erik moved stealthily across the street, keeping himself in shadow just in case. This had never been a difficult task for him, and he was annoyed at his ridiculous nerves. Just a result of that damned girl, of course. Even just the thought of potentially seeing her was enough to send frenzied patterns through his heartbeats.

Or, perhaps it was a sense that something was very, very wrong...

He moved quicker, surveying the apartment from the outside and listening hard for any inside noise. The front windows were shut and covered by blinds, with no light shining through the cracks. If he had not seen Payne's car, Erik might have assumed that they weren't home. He made his way to the back of the unit, keeping himself in motion as nonchalantly as a person who was looking for a lost object might, just in case.

The little patio area was dark as well, but Erik could see that there was a sparse bit of light peeking through the blinds at the backdoor. He hid in the darkest shadow against the hard concrete of the building. Though his sense of smell was not the best—to be expected, of course, considering the lack of nose and all—his excellent hearing made up for it. Erik held completely still, listening hard for any voices that might come from the other side of the door.

No voices. But, after a frustrating few minutes of hearing nothing and wondering what to do next, Erik heard the sounds of a door opening and closing.

Silence for a while again, then footsteps, and then another door opening.

Erik dared not breathe, dared not move a muscle. After another few moments of silence, there was the sound of water being turned on, a shower beginning to run. The person behind the actions hadn't even bothered to close the bathroom door, from what he could hear.

But was it Christine, or Payne? Was Erik's timing perfect enough for it to really be…?

With a strike of pure luck—or fate, his inner romantic suggested—the person in the shower coughed, and he had his answer.

And then, Erik easily broke into the apartment.

He moved like a phantom, quick as a snake and silent as a spirit. He was not worried in the least at being caught by Payne, but he used extreme caution, listening hard for any sign of the water turning off. The apartment was of decent space, though it only took him a brief minute for Erik to sweep the bedroom, living room, and kitchen.

And he was rather disquieted to find Christine was nowhere to be seen.

Her things were everywhere; her shoes left carelessly on the floor, her school bag resting against the wall, her clothes in the hamper of the bedroom… everything seemed relatively normal. But where was she?

Just then, his ears caught a less than subtle thud coming from the direction of what he'd assumed to be the laundry room, and he immediately raced to investigate. Sure enough, the tiny, dark room held a washer and dryer, the shelf above them holding detergents and dryer sheets and the like. But what interested him the most was the outline of another door directly across from the entrance. Strange. It could not be a garage; he had not seen one from the outside.

Erik silently opened that door, wary of any noises it might emit, and nearly choked when he saw the descension of stairs before him. He already knew who he would find as soon as he made it to the bottom of the pitch dark, silent basement.

Christine…

He felt the rusty knife in his stomach again. Oh, was she all right?

More paramountly… was she alive?

He very nearly threw himself down the stairs, but it only took a fraction of a second to decide otherwise.

Payne must be dealt with first. It would not do to frighten Christine if she were to witness such violence.

The man was still in the shower, and Erik crept into the dark bedroom once again, sliding into position behind the door. It would be quick and easy to come at him from behind and fling the rope that hid deep in his suit coat pocket around the man's neck. Erik would have to be careful not to use too much force.

Though desirable, he knew it would not do to accidentally snap Payne's neck. The angel deserved better than a murderer.

When he heard the shower turn off, Erik held completely still behind the bedroom door, barely breathing as he waited.

It had been so long… and yet, how easy it seemed to be to slip into the old habit of violence. His blood was hot again underneath his papery skin, his muscles tensed and ready. Long, boney fingers twitched, ready for the exact second they would grasp the rope, squeeze the breath out of the abusive man who deserved no one, least of all Christine.

Not that Erik would ever deserve Christine… but she deserved to be saved. And he would be the one to save her.

A sudden feeling of anxiousness had Sky shutting off the tap quick and grabbing a towel. He dried off hastily, trying to assure himself that it was only guilt that made him feel this way, and that it would pass.

There was no way Christine could escape him now… and she hadn't told anyone anything. Sure, she'd made that pathetic excuse of an attempt with the song, but no one would have been able to guess her meaning…

Right?

Sky shook his head to himself, huffing out an annoyed breath. He was being ridiculous. He should go back to reveling in the bliss, enjoying these moments. Christine was down in the basement, just waiting for his care. He would clean her up and tend to her injuries, and she would heal in no time. She'd fix her nasty behavior and be ready for him to be the loving boyfriend he'd always been for her again.

But for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. That maybe Christine had somehow asked for help without him knowing, or that she would get away…

No. There was just no way. And he would prove it.

Sky strode to his bedroom and flung on a clean pair of sweatpants, eager to see Christine for himself, right where he'd left her. But just as he turned to leave, Sky froze. Had he heard something…?

His heartbeat quickened further, sensing he was not alone in the dark bedroom.

"Baby?" he called quietly. How did she make it upstairs?

"Not quite," an awful voice answered, and it felt like it was coming from the inside of his head.

Only the briefest second passed as Sky felt the hairs that covered his arms rise, and then he couldn't breathe.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Sky was choking. He struggled, hard, clawing at his neck, but it was no use. Something was wrapped tight around his throat; being held there by strength that he probably could have fought off if he'd been expecting it. But this was the last thing he'd ever expected in his own home.

Panic caused him to move like crazy, trying with everything in him to turn and see his attacker. He was not successful, and his attempts only brought him down to his knees, making it even harder to fight back. The lack of air made him weaker and weaker, and it was the worst kind of feeling to know he would not win this fight.

Only for now, though. He would not let this be the end. Sky had to win.

Payne's body eventually went limp with unconsciousness. Erik took his rope back from around the man's neck and immediately ran for the basement, gasping and sweating.

The man had put up a harder fight than Erik had anticipated. Luckily, he had not been strong enough to cause a worse struggle, one that would inevitably lead to Payne's death. Payne hadn't even been able to lay eyes on him, despite the effort he'd put forth. Yes, it was all very lucky. Still, Erik knew he had to hurry. Payne was obviously fit and healthy, and would probably wake quickly.

"Christine?" he was already calling on the way down the wooden stairs, flicking on the one light as he went. It didn't seem to make much of a difference. Thank gods for his strange ability to see in the dark. "Christine!" he said again.

No answer. And when he made it to the bottom, he understood why, the blood slowly draining from his pathetic excuse for a face.

All along, Erik had not known what to expect when he found Christine. He had braced himself for something bad, yes, but this?

He first noticed the dress she had worn that night on the floor at the base of the stairs. It looked torn. Then, there was the stench of bile. Even Erik—with his mask on and less than perfect sense of smell to begin with—could not miss it. There were other smells too, but before he could identify them, he was distracted by the sight of her.

No…

Christine lied limp on her stomach, naked. How many times had his disgusting fantasies about her body swirled around his mind? And yet, it seemed like the sickest of cruel jokes to see her now. He could not stand to look for longer than a few horrid, torturous seconds.

But it was enough. Enough to see her usually radiant, fair, satin-skin red, bruised, swollen. To see her golden silk hair matted and messy, stained with the blood that came from her temple. She had an open gash there. It looked like she had fallen and hit her head on a bolt in the floor. Those bolts led to chains…

Oh… what had this angel been through?

He almost wished he had not found her at all. It was all too much to handle. Because, worst of all, during those few terrible moments of studying her, Erik could not help but notice the sickening stains of orange-red painted on her inner thighs.

Now it was his turn to vomit, it seemed. His stomach heaved.

No. No no no no no no no…

Mercifully—and before he could spiral down into complete devastation—Christine's fingers twitched, and a tiny whimper of pain escaped her parted lips.

The angel lived? Her head moved a fraction, and she took in a pained breath.

There was no time to be weak.

Erik swallowed down the illness. He would have to force himself to take action, but which course?

Bloodlust screamed at him to return upstairs, to drag the repugnant creature that had done this by its neck to meet the end it so deserved. Erik would savor every scream, would laugh maniacally at the thing's pleas that it would no doubt make, and only feel peace when it took its last, underserved breath. He almost followed the urge. He wanted nothing more.

But then, the angel moaned her agony again. And he decided he did want something else more.

No. Get her safe now. Kill the thing later.