Desperate Lies

Chapter 5 (Trigger Warning)

A/N: Trigger warning for abuse

A few days later.

Eve walks into the front door of her house at ten o'clock at night.

"Eve? What are you doing just now getting home? It's late," Paul says.

Eve jumps at hearing this, then turns to see Paul in his recliner.

"Oh," She says, "Sorry, I was working in the library and just lost track of time."

Paul stands and walks over to Eve. Her heart begins to pound.

Paul just huffs, "Go to bed."

He shoves her toward her room, but this was nothing compared to other things he'd done in the past. Eve nods, then walks into her bedroom and shuts the door. She exhales, then jumps up and lets out a small squeal of delight. She'd spent yet another amazing day with Chris. Chris would be leaving for tour again soon, which Eve hated because the romantic aspects of their relationship were only just beginning. However, she was running out of excuses to give to Paul on her whereabouts, so perhaps Chris being gone would eliminate some suspicion.

Besides, Chris would only be gone for about three weeks, as this was a shorter tour. Then he'd be back for a short while, then leave again and be gone from mid-November to mid-December.

Chris was incredible. Eve had never been with someone so genuine and so understanding. She feel like she could really be herself around him, and tell him almost anything. Almost.

"So, what do you think you'll do after you get your Master's?" Chris had asked her earlier in the day when she was with him.

Chris was sitting criss-cross on the bed with his laptop in front of him, answering some quick emails. However, he felt that there was still so much about Eve that he didn't know, and he wanted to learn everything about her. Eve lay on her stomach with her sketch book in front of her, drawing.

Eve sighed, "To be honest with you, I don't really know. This wasn't my original plan."

"It wasn't? Then, what was?"

"Well, when I got my Bachelor's, I had it in my head that I would move to New York and be the next big artist. My work would be in all the museums and I would finally, finally get away and be my own person, but my dad didn't agree with that vision, so...I ran away."

Chris's eyes widened and he closed his laptop, "You ran away from home?"

Eve nodded, "Yeah, I...I packed my things and drove off. I had never had any problems with that car until that point, and then of course, it broke down on me on the way there."

"What happened?"

"Well, I managed to make it to a truck stop and a trucker offered to call a tow truck for me. He stayed with me while I waited, and I thought he was just being nice, but then he...made me do some things..."

Chris softened, "Eve..." He lay down next to her and took her hand.

"Yeah, my memory kinda cuts out there," Eve says, "But somehow, I made it to New York and moved into a 400 square foot studio apartment with a friend of mine from undergrad. We had this whole idea that we were gonna be artists together and that everything was gonna be great, but um...She got really into drugs, and I mean, I never got hooked on anything, maybe tried one or two things recreationally, but she was like, really deep into these drugs; she said they made her a better artist. We made it about a year before she overdosed and had to move back home and go to rehab. I couldn't afford the rent by myself, so I moved home too."