Wow! Seventeen reviews on the last chapter! You have no idea how much that means to me. I am so, so thankful for you all.

This chapter is a little longer than usual, so I hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know what you think!

Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 32

Later that night, something felt off. Everything appeared normal as she looked around, though. She was still in the bedroom at Erik's house, buried under the plush bedding and surrounded by soft pillows. It appeared darker than before, however—no moonlight or stars present in the sky anymore. In fact, when she looked to the windows and balcony doors, all that was beyond was blackness.

Her body began to feel uncomfortably hot, and she kicked away the covers and crawled off the bed. Something was playing softly outside…something familiar. She found herself at the balcony door, and when she slowly opened it, the piano melody got clearer.

It was the song from her quarterly performance.

She searched for the player in the black abyss, the bedroom disappearing behind her as she went. Just when she thought she might have found the source of the song, scorching stage lights appeared all around her. They were blinding, and she couldn't see much else.

An ethereal presence instructed her to sing then, and when she opened her mouth to do so, no sound came. She couldn't remember the words! An invisible crowd of people watched her, and they were all witnessing her failure. Their uncomfortable murmurs got louder and louder, until a certain voice began to stand out from the sea of people. It was masculine, but soft, and sounded as if it were trying to soothe a frightened child.

"It won't work, baby," it said, all other voices fading completely. "No point in singing, now. You'll still be mine. I mean, just look at you."

She looked down at herself, noticing her bare feet. She'd forgotten to put on shoes? How embarrassing. What was worse, however, was what she did wear. The skimpy fabric was thin and silky and light pink, hardly covering much of her at all. Gulping in embarrassment, she searched desperately for an exit, and when she saw the glowing red sign she raced for the door beneath it.

As she approached, all the stage lights went out, and the glow of the exit sign did little to illuminate the space. Unsettled, she tried the door, and it was locked. She pounded her fists against it, calling for help, but stopped when she heard a familiar laugh.

"Aw, poor little Christine." The voice was mocking now, and coming from behind her. "You really thought you could escape me in time?"

Gasping, she yanked on the door with all her might, but it wouldn't budge. She turned around and pressed her back to it, whimpering with fright as a dark figure came closer and closer.

"You're too late. You're mine. Forever."

The figure stepped into the red glow, just enough for her to see his face.

"Sky," she choked.

He lunged toward her.

Christine jolted awake, her heart pounding uncomfortably and her head aching. She lay there in confusion for a while, squinting against the morning sunlight. The bedroom was bright and hot, and she wiped a shaky hand across her sweaty forehead. Remembering the nightmare, she flung the heavy bedding away and checked herself, sighing in relief when she saw she still wore the plain pair of grey pajamas.

She glanced at the clock, having to blink multiple times before the numbers came into focus. Seven-fifteen. She'd only slept five hours, and the dream had been anything but restful. Even though she still felt exhausted, she would not go back to sleep. What if she dreamt about him again?

Grumbling, she got out of bed and gathered a clean set of clothes, not wanting to think anymore. The bathroom was right next-door to her room, and it was stocked with various soaps and lotions and shampoos of the like. None of the brands were familiar to her, and as she opened a few of the bottles to smell—each had soft, flowery scents—she guessed they must have been very expensive. Erik had gone to too much trouble.

After brushing her teeth, she ran the shower lukewarm, still feeling flushed and a bit sweaty. She tried not to let guilt get to her as she used the fine products that left her hair and skin softer than she was used to. She also tried very hard not to cry out when washing certain areas of her body that still ached with discomfort. The dark bruises that she had in various places were starting to turn greenish-yellow around the edges, but they still left her body sore and stiff. Even stretching made her wince.

Tears of frustration welled up when she applied lotion after the shower, her tender skin protesting. Still, she was determined, and when she was done she smugly combed through her damp hair. Her head still throbbed, and she found a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. She took two with some water from the sink, and then applied some healing ointment to her stitches.

As she pulled on a loose white t-shirt and soft leggings, Christine anticipated seeing Erik again. After that nightmare, she felt especially anxious, and she needed him close. Hopefully the bad dream would not be a repeating event. She didn't think she could handle something like that again.

It was just past eight when she ventured downstairs. An unfamiliar melody played from the music room, the notes haunting and melancholy. It brought chills to her arms, and she had to take a deep breath before making her way in to see him. He sat at the piano, of course, fully dressed in dark grey slacks and a black dress shirt.

"Hi, Erik," she greeted quietly.

He stopped playing and turned toward her on the bench. "Good morning, Christine."

Smiling softly, she stepped forward and hugged his neck from the side, noticing again how it made him tense. She quickly pulled away. "Oh…I'm sorry," she said awkwardly. "I can tell you don't like when I do that."

"You are mistaken," Erik assured her, his eyes far away. "I enjoy your embraces very much. I am simply not used to such things."

"Well…do you think you could? G-get used to them, I mean?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment, and then she watched as his Adam's apple bobbed nervously.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned toward her, turning in the bench as he did so until he faced her fully. There was a hint of fear in his yellow eyes as his hands snuck around her, resting on her lower back and pulling her in. Hoping it would reassure him, Christine stepped closer in between his bony knees, and wrapped her arms around his neck in a proper hug. She felt him exhale as he squeezed her closer.

"You're shaking," she noted in a mumble.

He had no response to that, but she felt the slight dig of his nails into her back.

What had happened in this man's life to be so affected by a hug?

Christine pressed herself closer still against him, burying her face in his cold neck and trying not to get emotional. She concentrated instead on the feel of his thin frame against her, the unique scent of him that was nothing how she'd thought it would be: darkly masculine, earthy, potently spicy but in a natural sort of way. Not in a nostril-burning cologne way. It was…well, very pleasant. It made her want to press her lips to his neck and taste.

But she couldn't do such a thing. She had no idea how Erik would react to that, as he was clearly overwhelmed by this alone. He still trembled, and his breathing felt uneven.

Plus…what would it lead to? Christine knew that she had feelings for Erik, and that she wanted something more than just friendship with him, but she had no idea if he felt the same way. It would be humiliating if he rejected her, which was the most likely scenario. Hadn't he called her "child" often? He wouldn't do that if he didn't see her as such. But the way he held her now made her wonder otherwise.

Either way, she didn't want things to be more awkward than they already were. And then she had to consider what it would be like if he didn't reject her. It would probably lead to more. Would she be ready for that?

No, not with every inch of her skin still tainted—

"Yes," Erik suddenly breathed, interrupting her racing thoughts. The tone of his voice sent chills down her back. "I suppose I can get used to this."

Christine gave a breathy giggle. "Heh. Yeah. Me too."

The short exchanging of words seemed to signal the end of the embrace. Erik pulled away, and Christine took a step backward, unable to meet his now smoldering gaze.

"Where's Sasha?" she asked, twisting her hands together.

"Napping in my bedroom. I took him for a long walk before the sun came up, and it appears to have exhausted him." He paused, and with the lightest of touches, he took her chin in his hand and lifted it, observing her critically. "Speaking of, you do not look well rested."

"I—I didn't sleep v-very well."

"Is your bed not satisfactory?"

"No, no, the bed is great. Really. I just…woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. It was a mental…thing."

"Do you wish to speak on it?"

She shook her head. He shouldn't have to hear about it. Plus, today was Wednesday, and she would meet with her therapist later. She could always bring it up then.

"Very well," Erik said, dropping his hand from her face. "You will tell me if the problem persists, hmm?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks, Erik."

He nodded, standing from the bench. "Breakfast?"

Christine took his offered hand and let him lead her to the kitchen. Erik fried her up some eggs and bacon, and she poured herself some orange juice, though she wished for something caffeinated. Hopefully the food would give her enough energy to get through the day.

For someone who didn't seem to eat much, Erik had cooked her food well, and she thanked him profusely after eating it all. He offered to make her more, and she kindly refused, full enough to last a while.

As Erik put the dishes in the sink, he told her, "I have ordered you a computer for schooling, as well as added you to my cellular plan. I will retrieve the devices today, if you would like to accompany me."

Christine blinked up at him in shock. "You did what? Oh my—Erik, that's too much. You didn't have to do all of that!"

"It was necessary."

"But—"

Erik interrupted her gently. "Now, Christine, do not start fretting over my help again. If you are distressed about my finances, you are wasting your energy. Really."

"Are you sure, Erik? I hate to think I'm causing you trouble."

"Nonsense. It would please me immensely if you accepted my gifts without worry." He hesitantly placed his hand on her hair, stroking the now dry strands.

Christine sighed, leaning into his touch. "Okay, if you insist."

While Erik fed Sasha and took him outside, Christine went upstairs to put on her socks and sneakers. Her debt to Erik was just growing and growing, and it was honestly embarrassing. It really didn't seem to bother Erik though, and so she would try and do as he told and not worry too much about it. Hopefully she'd be able to get a job again soon and start paying him back anyway…

Skipping down the stairs, Christine shook those thoughts away for another time. She gave Sasha a long, loving goodbye before Erik led her out to his car.

With a painful headache and nauseous stomach, Sky woke, groaning. He mentally cursed himself for drinking so much the night before, his entire body cracking ridiculously as he got up from—where had he slept?

The kitchen floor? What the actual fuck was I thinking…

Dizziness had him stumbling like an idiot, and he nearly busted his face against the countertop trying to make it to the coffee machine. Everything was blurry as he attempted to brew a fresh pot, and it took a few tries before the machine finally began to drip dark liquid. He then blinked his sore eyes at the clock above the oven, seeing he only had half an hour to get ready for work and drop Christine's stuff off at the police station.

"Shit," he muttered, tripping to the bathroom. He would have to skip his morning run and go for one tonight instead.

After puking up his guts into the toilet, Sky vigorously brushed his teeth and ran the shower as cold as the tap allowed. He felt much better by the time he was dressed and pouring himself his first cup of coffee, the steaming liquid quick to heal his pounding head. It was depressing that he wouldn't be shaking a cutely grumpy Christine awake as he'd gotten so used to. That used to be one of his favorite parts of the day.

Sky's phone buzzed in his pocket, and surprisingly it was a text from Meg's new number.

I'm taking Peyton to a splash pad on Saturday if you and Christine want to come. I think we'll be there at around one-thirty. I'll send the address in a second.

He responded immediately:

Christine will not be able to make it Saturday but I'd love to come. Thanks, Meg.

The quick exchange gave Sky an idea, and he checked the time to see he still had five minutes before he needed to leave. He raced to Christine's boxes, unpacking the cell phone that he'd confiscated on that very first night. It was dead, of course, and he twitchingly plugged it into his charger, waiting for it to power on. When it did, he used the passcode he'd memorized months ago and it opened without issue, ignoring all the notifications that popped up.

Sky knew her phone bill had been set to automatically withdraw from her bank account each month, and he checked her carrier app to make sure that all payments had gone through. They had, as expected, since she hadn't needed to pay for rent or groceries or anything else since she was with him. Still, Sky called her phone number from his cell, just to be sure it worked.

When it did, he exhaled in relief; deleting the incoming call from her phone and then turning it back off. He had no idea if Christine would even check the damned phone after everything, but he needed to at least try.

Sky packed it back away and loaded her things into the trunk of his car. As he drove to the police station, he could feel hope bubbling up inside of him. Even the shitty hangover wasn't enough to kill his mood.

He was going to send Christine a message.

The small room was dim and cozy, and Christine sat comfortably on a tan leather loveseat with a blanket covering her lap. Dr. Perez was a gracefully aging woman with long black hair and beautiful brown skin, who radiated comforting energy. Christine's favorite part about her, though, was that she was very different from the hospital staff. They had treated Christine like a patient—which she was, of course—but Dr. Perez was the only professional she'd met that never looked on her with pity, or spoke to her like a scared child. It was refreshing to be seen as a human being and not just some girl who needed serious help.

At the beginning of the session, they talked of less daunting topics; such as how her day was going, how she was settling in to the new place, and the like. Christine didn't speak of the drama with Erik's mask last night, keeping the conversation as light as she could while she could. Instead, she gave a detailed description of the expensive shopping day she'd had thanks to Erik's insistence.

"How did it feel to get out?" Dr. Perez asked her eagerly. "This was your first outing since everything, right?"

"Yes," Christine said, nodding. "Surprisingly it felt great. I didn't feel very scared, but that's probably because Erik was with me."

Dr. Perez's smile was soft. "I'm so glad you have someone who makes you feel safe. I have to admit I was sort of nervous for you when I found out you were going to be staying with him. But I know you're an adult and I can trust your decisions."

Christine laughed uncomfortably. "Yeah, it doesn't look like it would be right…but Erik is amazing. He saved me." Her throat tightened, and she tried to swallow past it. "I wouldn't feel safer with anyone else. I know that."

"Good! That's the most important thing right now."

"It feels weird having a phone again," Christine then said, wanting to change the subject. "I was so used to not having one."

"I bet," the older woman said. "Cell phones can be very addicting. Do you use social media at all?"

"A little. I had a few accounts but rarely posted on any of them."

"Good, good. I'm the same way. I never understood those people who put all of their personal business out there."

Christine agreed, both of them laughing a little, and then she yawned hugely. She tried to hide it with the back of her hand.

"Tired?" Dr. Perez's warm voice was concerned.

"Heh, yeah, I didn't sleep well last night." Christine looked down, twisting and untwisting her hands together in her lap. She figured she might as well get this conversation over with. "I um…I had a nightmare."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Can you describe it to me?"

Quietly, Christine did, needing to stop every so often to keep from crying. The dream had been on her mind all day, though, so it felt kind of nice to get it off her chest. Dr. Perez listened silently and intently, jotting down notes all the while. When Christine finished recounting the nightmare, Dr. Perez looked up from the pad of paper with observing brown eyes.

"Hmm. I think it's pretty self explanatory, but what do you think the dream meant?"

Christine inhaled deeply, already regretting bringing it up but knowing it was necessary to talk about. "Um, I think it means that I'm still…s-scared of him."

"That can be expected, given all that this man did to you. But besides fear, what was the main emotion you felt during this dream?"

Christine bit down on her lip hard, knowing if she said anything else she would burst into tears.

Her therapist could obviously tell. "Christine," she said patiently, "You can cry. That's kind of what this is for, you know. This is a safe place to let everything out."

That was enough for Christine to let the tears flow, and the kind woman murmured encouraging words and handed over a box of tissues. After a minute, Christine said, "It's just…I've been c-crying so much. You know? It gets t-tiring."

"I understand. Have you always been an emotional person?"

Christine laughed breathlessly, but it came out more like a sob. "Oh, yeah. Always."

"That's a gift, you know," Dr. Perez praised, grinning. "Being a highly sensitive person can be exhausting, but it's a good thing. Too many people these days think it's better to have no feelings at all."

Sniffling, Christine nodded. "Yeah. I wonder the s-same thing sometimes. I wish it were that easy, heh."

"I agree, I agree. Now, back to the dream." The woman leaned forward in her chair. "What was the main emotion you felt besides the obvious fear?"

Pondering the question, Christine gulped, stalling for time by wiping her face with a tissue. "I felt…humiliated," she eventually muttered. "I knew I was in front of a crowd even though I couldn't see anybody, and—yeah, it was just really embarrassing. And he…h-he was making fun of me." A fresh wave of tears came, the lump in her throat hard and painful. "He was laughing at my distress."

Dr. Perez's black eyebrows came together studiously, and she touched the tip of her pen to her chin. "Did he ever do anything similar in real life?"

"All the time! I—I mean, I think he was just trying to be playful, but he would take every opportunity to tease me. I hated it. And there were serious times too. He would speak to me in this…taunting sort of voice, and it was the same t-tone I heard in the dream." Christine was shaking so hard that her teeth chattered, and Dr. Perez offered her a bottle of water. She gulped a quarter of it down before continuing, and carefully placed the bottle on the floor. "Yeah—h-he just made me feel stupid a lot. Like everything was my own fault."

"That is what abusers often do, Christine. They delude themselves into thinking the victim is making them act the way they do."

"Really?"

"Really. They refuse to take responsibility for anything."

Christine shook her head stubbornly. "But…sometimes he would like—apologize for things."

"Hmm. Can you give me an example?"

"Like…sometimes he could see he was pushing me too far, I think, and he would say he was sorry and he'd do better. Or…there was one moment—" she paused, choking up again. It was so hard to think about. Christine allowed the tears to fall and talked through them, even though it was probably hard to understand her. "There was this one time where I felt like he was apologizing to me for what he was doing. He didn't say it exactly, but I f-felt it."

"What makes you think that is what he meant?"

"Well, h-he was really upset about something bad that happened to me at his parents' house—"

"Wait," Dr. Perez interrupted with a confused expression. "You went to his parents' house? What happened there?"

"His dad and brother in law thought I was a prostitute," Christine explained tiredly, rubbing her temple with two fingers. "They would have forced themselves on me that night if he hadn't stopped it in time. He blamed himself for it almost happening."

If Dr. Perez was shocked, she hid it well. "Okay," she murmured with a slight nod, still writing stuff down. "We'll have to talk more about that later. I don't want to get too off track."

Christine agreed, sniffling. "Anyway…after he apologized that time, he didn't touch me or make me do anything with him for a while. It made me wonder if he was actually realizing how horrible everything was. I—I even thought he'd maybe let m-me go."

"I see… Unfortunately, this is another tactic abusers use to make their victims think things will get better before repeating harmful patterns."

Christine groaned. "I was such an idiot for thinking he could change. That he could be good." She laughed without humor, shaking her head. "I even felt bad for him. It's pathetic."

Dr. Perez looked at her seriously, her voice gentle as she said, "Christine, you felt that way because you're a good person."

"I know. I j-just…" she stopped for a second, her voice lowering to a whisper. "I was so stupid. I never thought he would snap the way he did, you know…when he attacked m-me?" She looked up at her therapist, and the woman straightened a little, nodding in encouragement to go on but otherwise staying silent. "Even though I'm the one who pushed him, I—God, I feel so betrayed by what he did to me." A fresh set of sobs burst through her chest, and she put her face into her hands, muffling her words. "It was the absolute worst thing he could have done to me, and he knew it. I thought he would kill me, or lock me up forever or something…not—I never thought he would…do what h-he did. If I would have known…"

"You think it's your fault, don't you?" the woman asked quietly.

Christine shrugged, grabbing another tissue and mopping up her messy face. "I mean…y-yeah. If I hadn't changed my song, he wouldn't have been mad at me. If I h-hadn't pushed him, he wouldn't have—" she couldn't finish, and she could not meet her therapist's eyes.

"'Changed your song?'" the woman quoted in question.

Christine forgot that Dr. Perez only knew the basics of what had happened to her, and her cheeks heated a little. This whole time she'd been speaking as if the woman knew about everything. "Sorry, uh, the night that…everything happened, I had a singing performance for school. I changed my song at the last minute as a c-cry for help. The lyrics to the song were similar to my situation. Sky—I mean, he didn't like that."

"Oh, I see," Dr. Perez said, writing things down quickly. When she finished, she looked up at Christine with understanding. "You think this song is what set everything in motion?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Okay. So, what do you think would have happened if you hadn't sung that song?"

Christine swallowed hard, thinking seriously for a long minute. "Um, probably…I don't know—I think he would have taken me home and m-maybe things would have been like they usually were."

Dr. Perez nodded, considering. "Do you think abuse would have still occurred, though?"

Reluctantly, Christine slowly murmured, "Yes, but…at least he wouldn't have had—" she forced herself to choke out the word, "sex with me."

"Whoa, let's not call it that, Christine. He did not have sex with you. He sexually assaulted you. Those are two very different things."

Christine lowered her head shamefully, blinking past more stinging tears. "I know."

"Now, let me ask you… Do you truly believe he never would have crossed that line if you hadn't—as you think—made him?"

It was a long, silent minute before Christine could bring herself to say it. "No," she finally breathed, devastated. "He would have eventually. But…not violently, I don't think, at least."

"But either way, he would have done it. Does it really matter how, at the end of the day?"

Breathing shakily, Christine shook her head. "I guess not," she lied. It did matter to her. She would never say it out loud, but it did matter.

"And you'd still be with him, right?" Dr. Perez pointed out, obviously trying to get Christine to see the bright side. "Since this performance is what alerted your voice teacher?"

"Yeah," Christine sighed, staring blankly at the floor. "I see your point. At least I'm free now."

Dr. Perez smiled at Christine warmly, and checked her watch. "We are just about out of time for today. Is there anything else specific you want me to know until next week?"

Pretending to think about it, Christine shook her head, trying to return the woman's smile and probably failing miserably.

"Try not to be so hard on yourself," Dr. Perez advised gently, leaning forward in earnest. "You did not cause any of this, okay? Remember that."

"Okay," Christine whispered, nodding. "I'll try."