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Nothing But A Lie

Chapter 34

Friday. It had been a whole week since he'd been with her. The most agonizing week of his entire life, no doubt. He wasn't sure he could keep going on this way.

After that childish drunken night, he had done his best to get back to his usual self, whoever he was before her. It became apparent very quickly how impossible that was. Exercising didn't give its usual high. Food had no taste. No shows or movies or music entertained him. Work was especially infuriating. And so on. He was starting to believe he'd never be the same again.

The saddest part was she was still there with him, always. Every moment the feel of her perfect skin still burnt his hands, her face constantly fresh in his mind. The memories were cruel, though. She never smiled or blushed or looked shyly back at him, intead stared with nothing but pure sadness in her tearful, begging eyes, her precious lips parted in shock.

It was last Friday night's face, during...

He cringed, unable to think about the event. It sickened him now. He hated himself for what he did, for having a single positive feeling about it for even a second. God, he was such a monster.

Murphy was confident that the case wouldn't go to trial for whatever reason, which didn't make much sense to Sky. Yes, there was no real evidence of taking the girl against her will, but the way he'd fucked her so brutally would be much harder to defend.

Honestly, if he ended up rotting in jail for however long, he knew he deserved much worse.

He wished she knew how shitty he felt.

Sky had drafted probably a hundred texts to her phone, some novel length, some one sentence, scrapping each one again and again. There was no apology he could make that could make up for what he'd done, no fluffing it up whatsoever. And she wouldn't want to hear any of it in the first place. Probably wouldn't even read it. It was such a shit show.

What if she didn't even turn on her phone? What if she didn't want anything associated with him anywhere near her? He wouldn't blame her.

But he couldn't not try. He had to say something.

In the end, he kept it simple and he hit send, shaking like a little bitch.

He'd been useless at work all afternoon—all week, really—and decided to head out early. There was no point in staying.

"Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Payne," the pretty receptionist said as he was making his way out.

"Thanks, you do the same." He flashed her a grin, pretending he didn't just do the riskiest thing possible.

He'd done it. He'd texted Christine. Holy shit.

When he got home, Sky locked the door behind him—a force of habit—and pulled out his phone again. He stared at the message he'd sent, nearly collapsing when he noticed the status in tiny letters underneath.

Delivered.

His heart raced, and he leaned against the door for support.

She'd powered her phone on after all. Maybe she wasn't as delicate as he'd thought.

He read the message over and over, trying to see it through her eyes, trying to imagine her reaction. Horror, most likely, but what if not? What if she missed him too?

God, how he wished he could just see her again. Even just looking at her from far away would be enough, just enough for him to see how she is feeling. It would be easy enough to find her, surely...

A new message chimed, and his heart did a little stutter before seeing it was from Meg, checking to see if they were still good to meet tomorrow. He texted her back swiftly. He supposed that even despite the awfulness of everything that had happened, at least he would be able to see his daughter again. For now. That was one bright side.

Now, if only he could get Christine back...

Everything would be perfect.

Christine crawled over to her phone, unable to see the screen through her tears. She wiped them away and spent some time calming herself down, wishing she had a glass of water to speed up the process. Instead, she stumbled to the bathroom to clean up her face for the second time that day, avoiding her reflection when she could. She was sick of her miserable face.

Back in her room, she grabbed the phone and sat crisscross on her bed, opening the text she'd received. It was from an unsaved number, and was about to mark it as spam until she saw the first sentence:

Hey, it's me.

Gasping, she dropped her phone as if it burned her hand. It landed face down on her lap.

She didn't have to read the rest of the message. She knew.

"Erik," she said, though she wasn't sure why. He was downstairs and wouldn't be able to hear her with the way she fought to catch her breath.

She began to feel light-headed, and quickly decided she must pull herself together before she threw up her lunch or had a full-on panic attack. Putting her head in between her knees, she forced herself to breathe: ten seconds in, ten seconds out—or at least as close to that as she could manage—reminding herself that she was safe, that he couldn't hurt her over the phone. That he didn't even know where she was.

Did he, though? There was no doubt he could know. He'd learned everything about her before she'd ever spoken to him.

Erik would keep him away. Erik would call the police if there was any threat... wouldn't he?

It shamed her to think that after their fight she wasn't so sure.

Shuddering, Christine straightened and picked up her phone again. She exited out of the message before reading the rest, going straight to her location services. She'd always had them turned off, but she had to make sure.

Finding them turned off still, she sighed in relief.

Strange. It made her wonder what he had wanted to accomplish by messaging her. He probably wanted to make her suffer more than she already had; sent something taunting or mean. Intimidating. Maybe he'd begged her not to go through with a trial. Just because he was able to bail himself out doesn't mean he was completely off the hook.

She didn't need to read it. She shouldn't.

But she had to know. What if it was a threat? Honestly, she kind of wished it would be. She could use it against him with the police.

With shaking fingers, she opened the message again, preparing to screenshot if need be.

Hey, it's me. I love you more than life. It isn't even worth living without you. I really hope you're okay. Call me if you ever need anything. I'll be here, no matter what.

Tears blurred the words until they became indiscernible, and she felt wetness splash her hands. It was worse—way worse—than she thought.

She bit back the scream that wanted to come out, her hands shaking hard as she fought to block his number as fast as possible. She tried to pretend the part of her that wanted to respond didn't exist.

Unable to bear it, Christine stumbled to her feet and raced back downstairs, almost taking a tumble on her way down. Erik must have heard her frantic approach, because he stood waiting in the doorway of the music room. She didn't care that she was supposed to still be mad at him. She flung herself into him, sobbing into his shirt and clinging to him tight.

"What is it?" he asked, returning her embrace carefully.

"He...h-he—" she gasped through her tears, unable to breathe. She felt him stiffen against her.

"Christine," he said calmly. Too calm. "Breathe."

She tried, inhaling the scent of him that was slowly starting to become her favorite smell in the world. She focused on only that for a minute, feeling her panic ease with every breath, with the feel of him holding her softly, carefully, like she was something precious. Not something that belonged to him.

She pressed herself closer still.

"I apologize," he murmured suddenly, "for before. I was a selfish imbecile."

Christine hiccuped a laugh. "Yeah. But I'll f-forgive you if you promise not to keep any more secrets from me."

He hesitated, and she felt him exhale. "You have my word."

She almost backed away to look up at his masked face, but knew she would find no telling expression there. Even though she'd promised him she wouldn't bother him about the mask again, it was always a thought in the back of her mind, especially the more her feelings for him grew. He couldn't hide it from her forever.

"Christine?"

"Hm?"

"What has upset you so?"

She had to swallow down the lump in her throat before telling him. "Sky... h-he texted my old phone. I blocked his number. But yeah, it sucked."

He stiffened against her, voice icy as he asked, "What did it say?"

"It's not important," she sniffled. "I mean, it wasn't threatening or anything. Just h-hard to read."

He was quiet for a while, fingers trailing down her hair. And then, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Pulling away from her, he took her arm and led her to the chair in the music room. He carefully helped her sit, sinking to one knee in front of her and keeping her hands in his. Her face got hot, and she gulped, but she remained silent and watched him warily. The last time they were in this position, he had gone nearly insane when she'd asked about his mask. Even now, his eyes scorched with intensity.

"Be honest with me, now," he said, giving her no time to prepare as he then asked, "Do you wish him dead?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Do you want him to die?"

"Wait, what?"

"Just answer the question for me, yes?"

His nonchalant demeanor frightened her. Still, she answered the question honestly, quiet as breath. "No. I don't."

Erik nodded once, his jaw clenched.

She pulled her hands out of his, crossing her arms tightly. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I do," he said without remorse, staring directly at her. "I wish him dead for what he did to you. And if you did too, I would make it so without thinking twice about it."

She shook her head. "You can't be serious. You wouldn't do something like...that..." Her voice went quiet, realizing as she spoke the words that maybe he would.

A humorless smirk appeared on his thin lips. "Whatever idea you must have of me is much too pretty, my dear. I am afraid you do not know at all of what I am capable of."

Christine's mouth hung open, no words coming out. She could only stare at him, her thoughts racing much too fast to keep up with.

The mean smile remained on his mouth, but she watched his eyes become slightly panicked. "You are the one who demanded honesty."

A humorless laugh burst through her lips, and she rose from the chair, accidentally bumping into Erik's still kneeling form in her attempts to get away. She did not apologize, even when she felt his stare on her back. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, trying with everything inside of her not to scream, choosing the joyless laughter instead—a few expletives coming out as well.

If Erik was capable of taking someone's life, what sort of person did that make him?

Dark humor vanished, she whirled to face him. He had risen from the floor, now standing so close to her that she stepped backward. He reached out to touch her, and she flinched away.

"You are afraid of me now." He stated it as fact.

Unable to speak, she merely stared. He reached out again, slower, and this time she allowed him to run his fingers through her hair like before.

His voice turned so soft that she immediately relaxed, "You do not need to be so. I would never harm you, nor allow anyone else to."

Unconsciously, she leaned into his touch, sighing out a shaky breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he wasn't playing fair, but couldn't seem to care, especially as he kept talking to her so sweetly. "I worship you, angel. I would do anything you ever asked of me."

"Show me your face." The words were out before she could stop them.

Erik froze for a moment, then emitted a sharp gasp. He yanked his touch away from her, looking at her as if she were a demon, not the angel he had just claimed she was seconds ago.

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms again, as if that would somehow hide the way she trembled. "Anything I ask? Well, I'm asking. If you don't want me to be afraid of you, then I think you should start by showing me who you really are. Face and all."

Erik himself quivered, and he made no effort to hide it. "You do not know what you ask. It does not count."

"I know exactly what I ask. I want you to show me your face."

"No," he growled. "I will not."

Her jaw clenched. "You've seen all of me," she reminded him, her face flaring as he cringed at the reminder. Well, two could play unfairly. "Meanwhile I don't even know what your face looks like. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"Do not be childish," he said. "We have discussed this."

"I don't want to wait," she said, her voice raising. If he thought of her as a child, then she would act like one. "I want to see!"

"No!" he shouted so loud she covered her ears. He lunged forward and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, pulling her hands off so she was forced to listen to him screech. "You will never see Erik's face as long as you live, do you understand, child?! Do not ask again!"

"Let go of me," she screamed. He squeezed tighter as she fought to get away. The bruises on her wrists weren't fully healed yet, and she winced. "Damn it, Erik. You're hurting me!"

For a moment she was afraid he was too far gone in his insanity to listen, but he did, dropping her wrists and backing away. He heaved with heavy breaths and his eyes blazed, but otherwise said nothing.

Much to her annoyance, she was crying again. She was so sick of crying. So sick of everything.

Just as Erik opened his mouth to say something, Sasha barked from the backyard. Erik blinked dazedly at her before quietly exiting the room without a word. She tried to settle down by the time he returned, but when Sasha ran straight to her in the music room, she sunk to the floor and held him, heaving with sobs. The dog panted but otherwise stayed still, letting her soak his fur. She felt Erik staring at them from the doorway.

"You just offered to kill someone for me, Erik," she sobbed, her words nearly unintelligible. She wondered if he understood. "I don't want that. Why would I want that? This is what I want and you're s-saying it'll never happen."

"It will not," he said, much calmer now. "If you see my face you will run from me and never return. I cannot have that."

She looked at him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Why?"

He said nothing, and she saw his throat bob with a swallow.

"Erik, why?" She rose from the floor and bravely went to him, hesitantly touching his hand with her fingers. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

"You have been through enough horror," he said stoically.

"That's not it. You—" she paused, taking each of his hands fully. She was done being afraid of everything, and she made herself ask: "Do you have feelings for me, Erik?"

He said nothing, just stared down at her with those eyes that held such intense energy that she tried to decipher which emotions they exuded. The clearest of them was fear, and for some reason knowing he was afraid made her even braver.

Well, if she expected honesty from him, she should at least offer him the same courtesy.

"Because I—I do," she admitted, trying to hold back sobs that threatened to burst through her again. "I'm s-sorry. I know I'm... messed up, but it's the truth. I have feelings for you, and I want to see your face. I need to. Because I d-don't think it will change anything. And I want to prove that to you. And to me."

Erik crumpled to his knees in front of her, breath ragged. Her eyes narrowed in concern; it looked like he was trying very hard not to lose it, and his hands squeezed hers.

"You do not know what you are saying," he choked.

"I do, Erik. It's the truth. If you feel the same way about me, you'll let me see. And I can show you that it doesn't matter to me."

As she said the words, she knew she meant them with everything inside of her. Whatever it was, she could handle it. And her acceptance of him would heal this darkness inside of him that made him think he could kill someone. No, he was not a killer. Not a monster. She would prove it to him.

"Do it," he then said, his voice rougher than she had ever heard.

Her heart stuttered, eyes widening.

"Now, Christine. Before I change my mind. Do it."

Erik's entire body quivered, and Christine very nearly changed her mind just to calm him down. But this was her chance, and it could be the only one he ever offered. She didn't think she could ever take off his mask without his permission. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that doing so would be the worst betrayal to him.

So, she dropped his hands, and did as she was told. She did not pause to think it through further, did not hesitate at all as she carefully found the edge of his mask and pulled it off.

All the blood rushed down her body as she looked at Erik's face. She wasn't even sure if it could be considered one. It... it didn't even seem real. It couldn't be. It was just impossible.

But then, his lips parted to inhale a shaky breath, and that one small animation was enough to prove just how real it was.

Instinctually, she took several steps back, placing the hand that did not hold his mask over her frantic heart. Her eyes—wide with shock—filled with moisture, her mouth agape and unable to form words, or even take in oxygen. She felt very dizzy suddenly, as if the Earth had stopped spinning entirely and her body had been catapulted a thousand miles per hour.

It was too much. She closed her eyes, but the memory of what she saw was still there, fresh and horrible. As well as the feeling it had given her. There was no escape. An uncomfortable sound escaped her throat.

"What is the matter?" a seducing voice creeped into her head. "I am quite handsome, am I not? Look at me, Christine. I am a regular Don Juan, wouldn't you say?"

Her body trembled at the voice, the words it said. She knew it was probably a desperate attempt on Erik's part to attract her back in, and she had to keep a level head. Dropping his mask to the floor, she placed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. "S-stop," she whispered pathetically.

The voice continued to invade her thoughts, increasing in volume to the point where her head pounded uncomfortably. "I do not wish to make you jealous, my dear, but women everywhere are unable to resist me. You do not want to be the odd one out, do you? Hm? LOOK AT ME!"

"Stop it!"

Sasha barked, obviously sensing the distressful situation. Even with her hands over her ears she could hear Erik lead the dog out of the room and shut him out.

She whimpered as she then felt his long, cold fingers wrap around her wrists. He was much stronger than her and was able to easily take her hands off her ears despite how hard she tried to keep them there.

"Look at me," the voice said, softer this time. "Look."

Run, her own voice screamed at her in her mind. And, God, she wanted to obey. But the voice was much too persuasive as it softly ordered her to look at him, over and over.

When she was finally unable to resist, she opened her eyes.

A wordless cry burst through her lips. It was somehow worse this time. The... his... face was angry, the twin flame eyes burning harder than she'd ever seen them. Her stomach turned, and she had to fight against getting sick.

It was something out of a horror movie. The only thing she could compare it to was a corpse. Someone who had been dead and begun to decompose. Someone who had lost an entire layer of skin and let the enflamed flesh discolor into a sickly, yellowish grey. But the most frightening of all was the hole in the center of his face where a nose should be. He had no nose.

"This is me," Erik said through clenched teeth, not hiding behind the voice anymore. "You cannot believe it; I can see in your eyes. You think I am dead. But I am alive! See."

To her further horror, Erik took her finger and forcefully raked her nail down one of his sallow, fleshless cheeks. Blood welled out of the wound and covered her finger, and she sobbed, unable to say anything except please. It only seemed to make him angrier.

"Blood," he snapped. "See? Red and warm and alive. There is no other explanation other than a live, flesh and blood man. What, you do not find me desirable? Look at me again, perhaps it will change your mind!"

She had closed her eyes again, unable to bear seeing him anymore. Feeling his fingers try to pry her eyes open, she shook her head frantically and stepped backward. She stumbled and fell onto her backside, and he held her down there, feeling him towering over her on his knees. She still couldn't open her eyes.

"You asked for this, Christine. Look at what you did. Better yet, give this handsome face a kiss," he said nastily, holding her still as she squirmed and thrashed. "You do not want to? You are just like every other woman! Not even my own mother loved me, you know. She refused to kiss me too, just like you. Would not even hold me! Is that not surprising? Even she was afraid of me! Her own child!"

Erik's voice had broken, and Christine opened her tearful eyes to find his own eyes flooded. Water over fire. The sight made her sick with something other than fear.

"Now you know," he said, releasing his hold on her so abruptly that she had to catch herself on the floor.

She watched him retrieve his mask and swiftly place it over his face, hating how relieved she felt.

"I must always wear a mask," Erik muttered, standing and facing away from her. "There is no other way for me. But you had to be an inquisitive little thing, didn't you? Just had to know. Had to ruin everything we were building together, hm? Foolish girl. Thinking it would not change a thing."

Christine was silent, save for the wordless sobs and sniffling she couldn't control. Her mind reeled with what she should do, how she could possibly fix this. There was no clear solution. All she could do was sit there on the floor and cry.

Staring at his back, she watched as his breathing eventually calmed back to normal. "It is best if you leave me now," Erik said quietly, not turning to face her.

If she were a better, stronger person, she would do what was right.

But she didn't. She stood from the floor and nearly ran upstairs to her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her.