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Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 28

An obnoxious, consistent beeping was the first thing she could comprehend as she woke. It was very disorienting, and it took her a little while to realize where it came from, why she lied on a lumpy, cold incline with minimal blankets. She shivered. The temperature was much too low.

Despite the annoyance Christine felt toward the shrill sound, she tried to concentrate on it, tried to count the beeps as they came and went and think of nothing more. Even that was preferable to remembering… to realizing why her body felt like it had been hit by a bus. Especially her head; even with whatever pain medications she was sure she had been given, her head smarted the most. Of course, that part was her own fault…

Ugh. Why did she have to wake up?

Christine wriggled a little, instantly regretting the pain that followed. Every inch of her body was sore beyond belief. She was very afraid to open her eyes, to assess herself visually. Mentally she could tell she wore one of those thin patient gowns, but was mercifully covered by the sheets of the hospital bed. She felt the bandage on her head where she had attempted to end her life…

Ah, too much observing. She went back to focusing on the heart monitor.

After a couple hundred beeps, Christine heard the crackle of movement not far from where she lied—someone shifting in a chair, maybe?—and then a quiet sigh.

The beeps quickened, and she soon lost count.

She opened her eyes carefully, expecting the bright whiteness of every hospital room she had seen before, but the fluorescent ceiling lights were off, the room dimly lit by a wall-mounted lamp behind her bed. Her blurry eyes began to focus as she surveyed the room. Despite the dimness, she could tell the walls were painted stark white, and thick blue curtains hid the window light. She wondered what time it was. There was a TV mounted on the high wall across from her, screen black.

Underneath was the source of the sigh.

He sat in a faux-leather chair that matched the curtain color almost perfectly; still wearing the same clothes from the performance save for the suit-jacket. His crisp white dress shirt clung to his form very well, like it had been designed just for him, making his thinness even more perceptible. His spidery hands rested on the arms of the chair, clutching them in a way that made her think he was distressed. In fact, he looked very uncomfortable, his back straight and his eyes boring into her. She felt them even when she had not met them yet.

When she did, she immediately lost her breath, drowning in his intensity. His stare undid her, the haunted sorrow his glowing eyes held unable to deny. All of the horrible things she had been trying to suppress came on fast, and she began to choke on breathless sobs. The memories rushed in, all the pain, grief, loss, terror…

It was all too much to bear.

Physically, it hurt to cry, and she was humiliated to do so, but she did. She had to. There would be no hiding what she had been through, what it had done to her.

And Erik had found her. He had saved her. He cared about her.

The tears blinded her, and she tried to blink them away so she could see him. It was a futile effort. Soon, though, Christine felt his cold fingers brush against the hand that rested on her stomach over the sheets. She grabbed blindly until she held his hand tight, clutching it against her as if that would ensure he'd stay there forever.

It took everything in Erik not to crumble down, share her tears. No, he must be strong for her in this moment, even though he feared he would die right then and there for the way she grasped him. The girl was stronger than he had imagined, and he never wanted to sensation to end.

"Breathe, my dear," the stunning voice sounded in her head, and it was shockingly easy to obey it. "Deep breaths. Yes, just like that. That's a brave girl. You are so strong."

Christine was able to calm down a bit, though her breath still shook and tears still streamed down her face. She could see Erik now, and she wondered if the gratitude she felt toward him showed in her eyes. And then, she was afraid the other things she felt for him were apparent as well. She had to look away.

After a while, her tears slowed, and she decided to try and speak. "H-how do you do that?"

Her voice was hoarse and weak, but he understood.

"It is a skill I have practiced since my youth," he explained softly. "I will refrain if you find it frightening."

"No. It doesn't scare me. I think it's… cool." She cringed at her own vocabulary.

Erik's mouth twitched. "'Cool'," he repeated wryly. "In that case, I suppose I will not stop. I simply cannot give up the title of 'cool'."

Christine's cheeks got hot, and she was suddenly very aware that she still clung to his hand much too tightly. Would he prefer if she let go? Probably… but she couldn't, at least not fully. She loosened her grip, but stroked his skin with her thumb in hopes that that would make him not pull away. The texture of his hand was unique: thin, not quite smooth… almost papery? It was strange, but not unpleasant.

Her touch burned his cool skin, but he would not let that distract the matter at hand.

"Christine," Erik began, swallowing, "I do not wish to upset you further, but I must discuss… something with you. "

She tried to meet his eyes, immediately afraid, but now he was the one looking away. His masked face was nearly impossible to read, but she guessed that he was... nervous or embarrassed or something like that.

"What is it?"

Erik could hear the anxiety in her voice. He had no idea how this conversation would affect her. Would she cry again? Would she be angry? Confused? Erik was terrified of hurting her worse. But this was necessary.

He pulled the small, pink cardboard box from his pocket and handed it to her. It had taken a laughable effort to leave her hospital room to retrieve it early that morning. He had rushed like a madman, fiercely determined to get back to her before she woke. That was hours ago.

Curious, Christine took it with her free hand, which she then realized was hooked up to a needle. She winced a little and tried to ignore it, being extra careful not to cause any harsh movements as she observed the item. The little box had a lot of words on it that she did not understand, but the picture on the front showed a little white pill.

"I… don't know what this is," she admitted in a whisper.

Erik kept his tone gentle; not something he was used to. "It is an emergency contraceptive. Surely… well, have you ever seen a commercial for something called 'Plan B'? The nearest pharmacy only had the generic brand, but I was assured it was just as effective."

Oh. God, she was an idiot. Of course she knew what a Plan B was. She'd heard girls speak about taking one before, both in high school and in college. Suddenly she wished she had paid more attention to those conversations instead of tuning them out. Christine pressed her lips together in an attempt to hide her chagrin.

"Right," she eventually said quietly. "Duh. I knew that. It just… took me a second."

Her mind began to spiral again. She clenched her eyes shut, struggling to keep her breathing normal. The stupid heart monitor gave her distress away, and she felt Erik's blazing eyes on her face. Breathe, she reminded herself so he wouldn't have to again. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Again and again.

Erik interrupted her concentration. "Do you know how this pill works, Christine?"

She just shook her head, afraid of what her voice might sound like.

"If you take it, it delays ovulation so that conception will not occur. It does not... It will not hurt you at all. The worst you will feel is nauseated, I assure you."

His words calmed her some, though it took a while before she could respond.

Her eyes opened and flashed up to his. "And… if I don't take it, I could become…?" she could not say the word. She hated that she even had to think about it. It made her sick.

Erik nodded curtly, his mouth pressed in a thin line. When he spoke, his voice was tightly controlled. "It would depend on where you are in your cycle, but yes, there is a risk."

The decision seemed very obvious, and she did not allow herself time to really think about it. She ripped into the box with her one free hand and spilled out its contents onto her lap: a folded up sheet of paper with information about the product and a tiny-foiled package with the pill nestled inside. She immediately tried to free the pill without success.

"Give it here," Erik ordered.

Christine huffed but handed it over, not watching him. It took only seconds for him to hand her the pill, and she stared at it blankly for a moment before pushing it between her lips. Her mouth was much too dry to allow her enough moisture to swallow it down, but before she could ask, Erik was handing her a small paper cup of water. One sip was all she needed for it to disappear down her throat.

They were quiet for a few minutes after. Erik's eyes never left her face, but Christine only stared blankly at the covered window. Every so often, her hold on his hand would tighten. He could only imagine the sort of thoughts haunting her mind.

"How bad am I?" she eventually asked in a monotone.

Erik swallowed. "You should be discharged in a couple of days. You have quite a few injuries, but nothing permanent. They want to make sure you are healing properly before they release you."

Nothing permanent. For some reason, Christine found that funny in a sick sort of way. She almost wanted to laugh. But then, she began to worry.

"So… I have to leave in two days?"

"Perhaps later, if the doctor is unsatisfied with your progress. What is the matter, Christine?"

She tried not to freak out again, but she could not fight how her breathing sped, her heartbeat going wild.

"Erik," she gasped, hating her vulnerability but not knowing how to hide it. "I have no where to go. I… h-he got rid of m-my apartment. Ouch!"

Erik released his grip on her hand that he had unconsciously tightened at the mention of him.

"Oh, forgive me." It was difficult to keep his voice soft for her.

Christine sniffled. "It's fine, Erik. I just—I don't know what I am going to do."

"You were living with him, then?" He sounded like he was choking.

"Not by choice, Erik. I swear. I lived alone, had a job, and went to school… and then it was all r-ruined. He took me. We were never together."

She was crying again, and all Erik could do was stare with parted lips, trying to piece together what she was telling him. None of it made sense.

"He t-tricked me, Erik. I was such an idiot—"

"Shhh, Christine." Though Erik burned to know every detail of what had really happened, he could see how they'd better wait to have this conversation at a later date. "Settle. We can discuss this at another time. Deep breaths, yes? Good. Keep doing that."

She obeyed, but her mind was still frantic. If the hospital made her leave, she would be homeless. She could not afford a new place and would not have time to find one in a few days anyway. She had no idea if her job would take her back after disappearing on them, and…

Oh, God.

How could she possibly go back to a normal life after what had happened to her? Christine couldn't even imagine it. She was supposed to just go back to school where she had been stalked and followed and listened to? Pretend it was normal to look over her shoulder everywhere she went? Go back to living in an apartment… alone?

The thoughts were enough to make her want to scream.

"I can't," Christine whispered instead, shaking her head fast despite how painful it was. It made her dizzy. "I can't. I can't."

Erik made his voice honey smooth. "I will make sure everything you need is taken care of. I swear it, my dear. All you must worry about now is healing. Shh, Christine."

He stilled her head with gentle fingers against her cheek, ensuring he did not touch a bruised or bandaged area. Glistening violet eyes pleaded up at him, devastated and endlessly afraid.

When she spoke, her voice was so small. "No. Erik, I can't be alone. I can't. But I h-have nobody, and—" she stopped, unable to admit to Erik that he was the only person in the world that she trusted now.

And she did trust him, fully and undoubtedly, but she had no specific reason why. It was just a sure feeling she had had since she met him. Despite how cold and hurtful his attitude could be at times, Christine knew he would never, ever do anything to actually hurt her. She felt safe with him.

He was her savior, now. And somehow she had always known that he would become just that. But there was no way she could confess how much she needed him; it would be too pathetic, and hadn't she been mortified enough for one lifetime?

Erik's next words immediately stopped this thought process. "And so you won't. You will stay with me at my home."

Her eyes widened and met his again, her stomach flipping at his obvious seriousness. "What?"

"Your safety is my priority from this day forward. You will stay with me."

Erik ached for her to agree, suddenly very fearful that he had frightened her with his offer. Something inside of him had told him to suggest it, and he had not paused to think it through. He should have.

Was she repulsed by the offer? She still held his hand, and perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he could almost swear her expression was one of hope now.

"Erik, I…" Christine felt breathless, but not in a bad way this time. Was this really happening? She studied him, and he not only looked serious, but intensely so. Fiery eyes blazed into hers, and she hoped desperately he wasn't doing this out of pity. "Are you sure? I—I don't want to bother you."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Nonsense, child. I have never been more certain of anything. There is plenty of space in my home for you to join me."

Christine was silent, but there were so many things she wanted to say to him. Even if she could speak at the moment, she knew it would be futile; Erik could never understand just how much this meant to her. Her throat tightened, and more tears came. God, will I ever stop crying?

Erik must have mistaken her relief with fear, because he then said quietly, "You will have your own bedroom and bathroom. I will constantly ensure you are safe and comfortable. But… I do understand if you would rather stay with someone else—a woman, perhaps. Though that does not mean that I will not still protect you—"

"No, no, Erik," she stopped him, squeezing his hand. "I want to stay with you. I trust you. You saved my life! Of course I trust you."

Erik's insides warmed infinitesimally, his throat going tight at her sincerity.

Could she ever comprehend how much this meant to him? Likely not, since she had no idea how desperately in love with her he was. And she could never know; she would run screaming at the mere thought. He would have to shove his feelings away, somehow, though that seemed impossible—especially if she was going to live with him.

But he had to, for her. He had to do everything in his power to be what she needed, to ensure she got through this horrid nightmare.

Before they could say anything further, a grandmotherly nurse entered her room with a lunch tray. She introduced herself as Patty, and she let them know that Christine's doctor would be in soon. Patty quickly checked Christine's vitals and charted them on the room's computer, and then left them alone again.

Christine stared blankly at the unappetizing hospital food in front of her. She figured she must have been starving since she had not eaten since before the performance, but the thought of eating now was excruciating.

"Eat, Christine," Erik ordered quietly.

She shook her head, wincing at the pain it caused. "I can't. I—I don't want to."

He sighed. "I understand, my dear. However you must eat something. The pill… it will be easier on you if your stomach is full."

It didn't matter, she thought. None of this would ever be easy on her.

Erik must have read her mind, because then he said softly: "I will do everything in my power to get you through this, Christine. We will start small; you will eat. It is not up for negotiation."

Christine was the one who sighed this time. Erik could be so bossy… but there was no denying that this time it was for her benefit. Plus, if she was going to be living with him, she might as well get used to it.

"Fine," she whispered, picking up a piece of fruit and forcing it through her lips.

It tasted sickly sweet—weird, since she had always adored anything sweet—but she still somehow chewed and swallowed it down. The bland looking sandwich looked easier to stomach, so she tried that instead. It tasted as plain as it looked, to which she was thankful.

"What are some of your favorite foods, Christine?" Erik wondered aloud.

She thought for a minute as she chewed. It had been so long since she had shopped or cooked for herself. Being a poor college student never gave her many options for variety. Eggs, bread and jam, canned soup, noodles, ice cream, soda, and baking ingredients were some items she had always kept stocked in her tiny kitchen. Once in a while she would actually attempt to cook Swedish cuisine. Usually it was meatballs and potatoes, a favorite from when she was small. No matter how she'd tried, however, it never tasted as good as it did when her mother had cooked.

She always ended up crying as she cleaned the dishes afterward.

"Christine?" Erik broke her out of the memories.

She swallowed the bite she had taken. "Sorry, I was thinking. I like all foods really. I've never been a picky eater."

"That is not what I asked. What are your favorites?"

Christine blushed a little as she answered honestly. "Bread. Pasta. Ice cream. Coke. Sweets. Anything unhealthy, really."

Erik blinked. "You are not serious?"

"Why would you ask if you were just going to judge me?" she complained, rolling her eyes.

She was serious, it seemed. His lack of face felt warmer than usual behind his mask. "Forgive that impression, my dear. No judgment, I assure you. Though, you must know that sugar is not good for your voice."

This made her eyebrows raise, and her lips actually twitched into a small smile. "You've never complained before."

Erik laughed at this—actually laughed—and Christine's eyes widened. Had she ever seen his teeth before? They were charmingly crooked; a couple of them pointed at the ends, and for some odd reason the sight sent a sort of thrill through her. Her stomach felt light and she really smiled now, unable to help herself. Even his laughter was musical.

"You do have a point there," Erik said, still chuckling. His heart swelled at the sight of her smiling. He did not think he would see that for a very, very long time.

She would get through this. Erik was suddenly positive of that. And he hoped fiercely that she was too.