A/N: Okay here is another rendition of how our dear Erik's life could have been and may yet be in his future. I started this with one idea and it sort of took off in another direction. I hope I didn't mess up the story going completely off course in later chapters. I wanted a story that told a little more of Eirk's sordid and ill-fated childhood. I hope I partially succeeded in doing that. Thanks to all of you who were my faithful readers and reviewers in my other stories. I would list you all but with my memory I'd forget someone and tick someone off so I'll just give a general thank you kindly. R&R
As Erik fights to hold onto a lost love Meg fights to gain his love and trust as she feels they were meant to be. Nothing will come easily for the man so hurt and betrayed by the one he thought to be his only solace in life. If Erik cannot let go of the past he may well lose his future.
Chapter One
Revealing the Demon 1840
The house seemed shrouded in dark anticipation of something devastating about to occur. The servants moved about their chores with quiet solemnity. Everyone knew what desperate need Madame had been under these past months. Her whole life hung upon the child she would bear this night.
Her very sanity they knew had been at stake since her beloved husband had died. This child everyone hoped would be her salvation from the dark places her mind had gone into during those times she thought upon her losses. During those days they all feared for their Mistress. At the best of times she had never been one to exhibit stability. With the loss of her husband's strong guiding hand Madame had gone astray from reality.
Every scream of pain from upstairs caused worry in those who waited for the arrival of the child who would save their mistresses sanity. She needed something to ground her to this world. Far too often she spoke of joining her husband in the embrace of eternal rest.
She lay struggling in the bed with the doctor in attendance as a midwife hovered nearby offering comforting words. The midwife wiped the sweating brow of this delicate little woman who had suffered now for over twenty-four hours.
Her doctor tersely instructed her to push harder. She could not. All her strength had seeped slowly out of her during the last ten hours or so of hard labor. She fretted for the safety of her child. This would be her only chance to retain a piece of her husband in living flesh. She worried that she had done something or not done enough to bring her child into the world safely.
The woman had lost her husband many months ago now she may well lose the very thing that had kept her here on this earth these last few months when death seemed to be all that she would ever crave.
When she had learned of her impending motherhood the joy had simply radiated from her face. There had been no doubt she wanted this child even though the father had passed. A widow bearing a child could lead to all manner of rumors and speculation. Those who had little else to do than gossip had done their busy work spreading the rumors speculating as to who had fathered the child.
Disgraceful that is what it was, down right disgraceful to spread lies about such a fine upstanding woman. Those who had so little to commend them circle around just the merest hint of anything improper, especially when the gossip included one of the areas better known families. There were those who said the young doctor who also remained a family friend after her husband's death to be quite inappropriate with his lengthy unchaperoned visits. That he came out of friendship did not give those gossip hounds pause for thought. In their minds their would be no other reason to visit the lady long after her husband lay cold in the ground, never mind that the gentleman had been a family friend for so many years.
The young Madame had wanted her friend to attend her during her confinement but those evil minded fiends had seen to it that he could not. She needed someone in her hour of agony. Gertrude did her best but even she could see the lady longed for a familiar face.
The doctor's impatient instructions brought her back to her patient rather than the misfortune of the woman lying near death as she tried to bring forth new life.
Finally the doctor pronounced the baby to have arrived into this world. After this pronouncement all went silent. Not even the babe cried as it should. The doctor's further silence when he should be congratulating the new mother on her perfect little angel drew Gertrude's attention. The doctor raised the child holding the squirming bundle out to her waiting hands. Gertrude quickly wrapped a waiting warmed towel around the tiny form.
Brushing aside the soft towel Gertrude could not contain her gasp of horror from escaping her lips. Mon Dieu, what demon's hand had touched this child for surely God would not allow such a thing to be created.
Gertrude had seen small marks on a child before even little odd unaccountable scars but never anything like this. The child only had half a face at least only half that could be called human. The other side had reddened and puckered skin. The eye drooped just a bit. The hair on one side of the babies head grew quite thick. The dark golden curls did not reach all the way across the scalp. They only grew just a little further than halfway across the head. The right ear had not formed correctly as it had a little nip out of the tip. It too had the same dark reddish hue as the child's face.
"What of my child doctor? Give me my child. Have I not suffered enough? Please let me see my child. My little Erik for I know I carried a boy. My husband would have wanted a son to carry on the name. Now give him to me. I must see him."
The doctor hesitated as did Gertrude. She held the little mite to her breast as he searched for that first feeding that would ensure his life. Gertrude felt a helpless wave of sympathy wash over her for both mother and child. What cruel fate had touched this child to mark him so?
Upon further pleas from the mother the doctor gave his consent with a slight inclination of his head. He made ready the syringe that would hold the sedative Madame would need when she first viewed her son. She had indeed given birth to a son, one perfect in every way except for his face.
The screams that rang out into the hallways and down into the lower floors of the house had every servant stopping to listen in sadness as they thought their mistress had lost the child she had looked forward to so much. She had spent a fortune on the nursery. A wet nurse had even been hired so as not to tire the lady of the house who all knew to have a fragile constitution. The crueler minded said she had a fragile mental state as well, a correct statement but cruel. The Madame's mental capabilities or lack thereof had been used as food for fodder in the gossiping circles ever since her husband passed. They speculated on how long before she completely lost all her faculties.
How true their words were they had no idea. As one by one the staff were dismissed and new staff had been brought in the rumors began to fly round once more.
Those who had caught a glimpse of the child were summarily dismissed. Visitors were no longer wanted nor encouraged. Madame no longer left the house other than to attend church in her families little chapel on the grounds. She had shut herself and her son away from the world.
Over the years the speculation continued to mount and grow in horror with each recounting of the night some say the devil's own child entered the world. How prophetic they were had they but known it. A devil's child had indeed been born cursed that night. Not a true son of Satan but some said his face belonged to a demon. They often would call him a monster. Humanity's cruel hand would shape the monster born a poor malformed child. He was not born a monster but his deeds would be monstrous at times.
Erik's first understanding of a word had been demon. Whenever he did not please his mother he would be called demon a number of times as his mother would either pray over him or stalk about the house mumbling to herself about what she should do to rid the house of the demon. She would work herself into a frenzy then bring out the willow whip. When he was still a babe in nappies she would only hit him a few times. Perhaps in her mind she showed mercy where she did not think any had been deserved.
Madame's doctor friend continued to come as it had become obvious he had fallen in love with Madame. He coaxed her to place the child in a far off monastery where he could be hidden while the priests cared for him. She refused, arguing that this burden had been given to her for some reason and she would fight for her son's soul while she had breath in her body.
Having driven off her one solace Madame became increasingly cruel to young Erik. When he pleaded for her mercy she would quote the bible to him. He offered his repentance. She told him he must not truly be repentant as the evil still claimed him.
At the age of three Erik had thought it would please his mother if he played her a song on the piano. She played every evening after dinner for an hour or so. Erik would sit at the bottom of the stairs and peek through the banister rails. He would watch and memorize where her fingers touched and in what order.
The day Erik called to his mother to hurry for he had a surprise for her, Erik could not know it would end with him being thrown in the cellar for the first time.
Once his mother had reluctantly come to him Erik climbed onto the piano bench. His heart had pounded in excitement against his chest. This he knew would make his mother love him. She loved music so therefore would she not love him if he could play her the music she loved?
Erik had only gotten about halfway through the piece when he felt himself yanked from the stool quite roughly. His mother held him aloft by his shirt collar with his feet dangling down.
He had heard the metallic jingling then a click. The cellar door opened and his mother took him down into the darkness he would come to know well even as he feared it.
Tossing him down onto the floor he saw his mother going back up the stairs.
"Maman, please do not leave me. It is dark. Please. Whatever I did I promise never to do it again."
She turned to look down upon her child with such dislike in her eyes that even the three year old Erik could see and understand how much she truly hated him. He shrank back from such pure dislike. His lower lip quivered as tears gathered in his eyes then slid slowly down his cheeks. He had only wanted to please her. Perhaps he was the demon she called him. Whatever a demon was, it must not be loveable for she did not love him.
"I shall drive the demon from you even if I have to end your life in the process. You will not triumph over me demon. My will is strong and my resolve steadfast."
When she turned away Erik called to her piteously. The household staff sitting around the kitchen table tried to close out the sounds of that pitiful little voice. A demon she may call him but his cries sounded all too human. Rochelle would have taken him from the cellar herself if Hugo, the gardener had not stopped her. Rightly he had asked what the little master would do if he were to lose her if the mistress dismissed her for disobeying her mistress's wishes.
Erik's mother having a sense of duty concerning her son thought it time he had some formal education. At four years of age he would begin to learn the ways of a gentleman. If she were to fill his head with knowledge surely the evil part of him would be driven out, was not knowledge power in the world?
She began the process to find a tutor who could be both teacher and cleric. He must have strong religious beliefs in order to stand against the demon that inhabited her son's body. The demon that had marked his face and now planned to take over his soul.
Attending school would be out of the question. The process of finding just the right person had taken quite some time. A tutor from Germany had been hired when the boy reached the age of five. Before that he had only Rochelle to tend to his needs as well as teach him the things little boys needed to know.
The young boy, Erik, frightened his newly hired tutor with his quick mind. The questions that he asked seemed far too intelligent for a mere five year old child. It could have been a case of a jealous man who considered himself to be of above average intelligence being made to feel a dimwitted fool by a mere child.
When Erik showed an aptitude for music and math beyond what his tutor had taught him, when asked how he came by such knowledge Erik had simply replied "From books and listening". His tutor quit the next day not even waiting for the salary due him.
The wet nurse and the maid Rochelle had taken complete control of all of little Erik's needs. His mother's only contribution had been the money that paid for his upkeep, punishment and constant praying she forced the boy to endure while she stood over him for hours. She would berate him viciously while calling him demon and every other ungodly name known to man. Countless times she had tried to have the boy exorcised by some holy man or other. Many were just charlatans who took her money without giving any real service. Those people fed into her sick minded hysteria.
Over the years Erik endured such horrific treatment by his mother. He often wondered if other children were treated the same. His eyes were well and truly opened when cook had a birthday party in the kitchen for her grandson. Erik had hidden in the pantry watching in amazement all the happy children. The birthday boy's mother had asked him what present he wanted to open first. Erik wanted what that boy had told his mother he would like as his first gift. He had asked for a kiss and a hug. Erik would be happy with just the hug or the kiss. To ask for both he thought far too greedy.
Erik sat on the pantry floor as he continued to listen to the merriment going on inside his very own home and he could not be a part of it. His birthdays were just another day. Rochelle gave him little treats when she could. No one could even say for certain when Erik's birthday was. None of them had been working for Madame when he had been born. Rochelle just picked a day she thought would suit him. She chose June the 12th as that had been her brother's birthday. He had died at birth. She of course did not tell Erik that part as he might think she wished him dead. With the way his mother treated him it would not surprise her one bit.
As Erik sat alone inside the pantry he hated the tears that refused to stay inside as he wished. Maman would call him a baby if she saw them and make him wear that damn nappy. She would scrape his tongue raw if she knew he even thought the word damn silently. Erik considered it a good thing she could not read his mind for there had been times he had thought very wicked things concerning her and some accident or other. He never would do any of those things he thought about but he could not help thinking of them all the same.
As he sat listening to them chatter on his thoughts drifted into some magical musical world where mothers were never cross, they did not call their children demons or monsters. In this magical, musical world everyone looked the same. There were no horrible faces, only beauty. When he really tried he could imagine his own face to be perfect. He would imagine his mother giving him the kiss he had always wanted but had never received.
That boy's birthday request had given Erik the courage to ask for his own birthday kiss. On his sixth birthday he had asked for his kiss. That had not gone as he had imagined it in his magical, musical world.
At the age of six Erik began to lose his childish wonder and belief that the world could be a wondrous place. There were neither fairy godmothers nor magic spells to make wrong things turn right. His face would always be his face. He would always be disgusting, had his mother not told him so often enough?
Erik would go from disbelief in any goodness in the world to being entranced with the wonder of a beautiful butterfly emerging from a cocoon. If something as ugly as a wooly worm could surround itself with silk then emerge changed from ugly to splendid could the same not happen for him? Could he wind some luxurious cloth around himself then wait the appropriate number of days for the magical transformation?
Even at the tender age of six Erik knew that to be an impossibility. It was nice to dream though, but that was all it was, a dream.
Erik's seventh year would be a turning point in his life. So many things would shift in his world. The downward spiral would begin. Nothing he could have done would have changed anything. Sometimes he did wonder if perhaps he had quoted the bible more or shown more interest in all things holy if his mother would have seen him as he really had been instead of how she perceived him to be because of his face.
Erik could not understand that what his mother did had more to do with her own loss of any sane thought or decision than anything he did or how he looked. Those things only gave her something real to focus on to explain her life's misfortunes. Her grief for her husband then the birth of her deformed son, a birth she had looked forward to for so long, took a toll on her feeble grasp on reality.
All things must have an ending. That end may not be what we wish but end they will. Time passes and things change. Erik would learn that for him things changed as one hand passed him to another. As simple as giving an unwanted possession to another that would be how his mother ended what she considered to be her life's burden for unknown sins.