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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Point of View: Krystal


I felt like my insides had been ripped out and thrown all over the floor. Nick whipped out his check book and covered everything... again. He apologized profusively and somehow - God only knows how - managed to get me out of trouble.

The drive home from the station was tense. The radio played quietly under the weight of the silence, and I rubbed my arm, staring at my knees, waiting for an explosion that I could feel lingering under the radar. Nick was gnawing on his lower lip.

He pulled into the driveway of his house and we sat in the car, motionless, for a long moment. He scratched his chin. "This is too much drama," he muttered. He turned so he was looking out his side window. "It's gotta stop," he added.

"I'll go pack then," I replied. I reached for the door handle and went to push open the door when Nick's hand grabbed my wrist, stopping me, mid-motion.

"Don't," he said.

I sighed and tried to wrench my hand away, "Stop it," I whined, "Let go of me."

Nick shook his head, "I'm not giving up on you," he said, "I wanna help you."

"Let go of me," I repeated.

"Krystal, you're a good person," he was almost pleading, "Why did you do this? Why? I mean seriously, I love that you had the heart to do it, but Kryssie, if you didn't have the money --"

"You don't understand what it's like when you're giving me everything and I just sit there and feel like a whore!" I wailed, "It's like you're Richard Gere and I'm Julia Roberts. Do you want me to suck your dick for feeding me this week or would you rather a lap dance?" Tears were pouring down my face.

Nick looked taken aback. He sighed, "Krystal... It's not like that," he insisted.

"Yes it is!" I wailed, "You don't even see it. You get sex, and I get all the luxuries of being a rock star's girlfriend..."

"You don't seriously think I love you because you fuck me do you?" Nick asked, his voice raised.

I ripped my wrist out of his grasp, even though it hurt like a sonuvabitch to do, and slammed his car door open, "Why the hell else would you?" I asked, my voice a hiss. I got out of the car before he could grab me again, even though he lunged across the seat in an attempt to catch me. I slammed the door.

I heard Nick swear and struggle with his seatbelt before his door slammed, too. I was already halfway to the front door by the time he'd gotten out, but his longer legs still afforded him the advantage over me, and he caught up, cut me off, and grabbed both my arms at the biceps with his strong hands. He shook me, "Don't you ever fucking dare tell me what I do and do not feel," he said, his voice low, and full of anger. "Don't you fucking dare."

I struggled against him, "Let me fucking go you big ox!" I yelled.

"LISTEN TO ME," he bellowed, "I dunno what the fuck is wrong with you, why you think you're so bad or whatever you think, but you're not a bad person! You're gorgeous and I fucking love you because you're- you're- you're YOU. I don't want you shoving bullshit ideas down my throat about you being a whore or whatever."

I couldn't see, tears were flooding my eyes. His arms were squeezing me tight, holding me still as I struggled to pull away from him. "Let me go, let me go," I sobbed. I managed to rip one hand free and I pushed against his chest, "Leave me alone!"

"NO," Nick yelled, snatching back my arm and holding me captive again, "No, I won't let you go. I won't give up on you. I won't turn my back on you. I won't let you throw away this relationship because you think I can't love you. I already do love you."

"Nobody loves me, Nick. Least of all, someone as fucking amazing as you."

"I don't give a damn where you been Krys, I don't care what your bitch mother has said to you or what your fucked up father did to you. You know what I care about?" Nick's voice was loud and borderline hysterical. "I care about you knowing that I fucking love you -- YOU, Krys."

I pulled away as his grip loosened with the last words, stumbled backwards, and fell down to the grass. I laid down on it, tears rolling across my face in rivers. I refused to look at him. I curled my knees to my chest and let the sobs rock my body. After a long pause, I felt him kneel down beside me, "Kryssie," he whispered, "I do love you. Please don't cry, baby... I just wanna make you happy... more than anything else."

His fingers softly stroked my cheek.

But I didn't believe him.