I should have reprimanded her calmly.
I know nothing would be how it is now, but…still. It would have been nice enough of me.
"Is this what you wanted to see?! You women are always so inquisitive—too inquisitive! Why must you push against what you have for more?! What more can I give?!" I shrieked horribly at her.
Christine was cowering against the wall, hiding her face from mine. Later I wondered why. But it was her who brought this upon herself!
I knew, somewhere, it was still my fault. Even through the black hatred I felt at that moment, she was a shining star. I wasn't about to hurt her, just give her what she had acted for.
To my surprise, she tried to stammer a response: "I—I didn't—" Of course, I wasn't about to let her finish.
"Didn't what? Didn't mean to?!" I cried, throwing my arms up in frustration. I gritted my teeth and lunged my arm toward her, meaning to take her by the hair.
"No!" she screamed, rolling away from me. With shaky steps, she got up and tried to run helplessly. Shaking with tears, her effort was futile. My heart softened for a brief moment, until I realized she was running from me—running from me!
"You cannot run! You'll come back here and see what you wanted!" I grabbed her shoulders and shook her so violently that her teeth rattled. "Behold your Erik!"
"No!" she protested, twisting in my arms without any luck. There was no such luck in the first place.
"Haha! Yes, poke and prod, my dearest! But remember this—you are the woman who has seen my face! You belong to me!"
Disgusted and frightened, she twisted her head away and screwed her eyes shut. "There will be none of that!" I said, grabbing hold of her beautiful spun-gold hair. "Not while—!"
"Erik, NO!" she screeched in horror, and when I pulled her closer to myself I realized why.
Her hair slipped off of her as easily as if I were pulling off my coat. Her nails dug at my paper-thin flesh, trying to get me away, to hide herself. My own hand reached forward and touched her cheek, which I now realized was waxy and smelt strange.
"Erik!" she screamed one last time, trying to warn me, to push me away. I would have none of it. My curiosity was so insatiable that I hardly had time to realize I was curious.
I grasped—grasped—her face and pulled it off. It all slipped away; everything I knew. The fair skin, the light freckles on the bridge of her nose, her everlasting blush, her naturally pink lips—it all came off.
A mask.
My grip went limp and she flung herself against the wall. "I told you to leave me be! Now see what you've done!" She removed her thin arms from her face, revealing something that shocked even me, surprisingly. I'd seen my own face many times before, to my distaste, but obviously not hers.
Staring back at me were disgustingly huge blue eyes, long purple sags permanently giving the illusion that they were only black holes. There were no lips, just a wavy line with huge fangs protruding from the mouth. When she opened her mouth to sob, I saw no bottom teeth. Instead of the long, glossy mane of gold I was used to, her hideous black hair hung in strands, and she was balding. Her cheeks were painfully hollow and her neck thinner than mine.
"Do you see?!" She lashed out at me with her small, delicate hand, grabbing my pant leg and glowering up at me, her teeth bared. Removing her hands, she stripped them of the rubber gloves she was wearing, revealing inhumanly short fingers; inhumanly long nails.
"You don't even want to know what's underneath this dress, by the way!" she screamed, slapping me across the mouth. I took it, too shocked to react. Didn't she know that I didn't care?
"I hate you, Erik. I can't stand you. Not after this." Christine turned away, her hair not swaying like I was used to. This had to be a dream. Had to be. This was just one of my so, so desired fantasies, it couldn't be anything else!
"But…" I finally stammered, noticing that even though she 'hated me' she hadn't moved an inch. "But…"
"But what?" she asked softly, engaged in clicking her fingernails together distractedly.
"Why…why didn't you want me to know?" I asked, a smile creeping onto my face. She didn't hate me, I realized. She was me.
"Because. I can't stand myself, Erik, and now you can't stand me either."
"But why would you think that?" I asked. I laughed.
She spun round, looking at me wide-eyed. She had been crying a moment ago. "…I…don't understand…"
"Don't you see? Someone who understands the way I feel—the way it is to be like this." I laughed again. "How in the world could I hate you? Good God, if only you'd have told me sooner."
Christine smiled at me; a genuine smile. "I didn't know you'd be ugly too. I'm so used to hiding my face. Oh, but I think you're handsome."
"But why hide it from your Erik?"
"I was shocked. It was instinctive. I thought you would hurt me." Christine looked ashamed that she'd ever thought that for a minute.
"Hurt you!" I cried, not believing. "Well, that is depressing. I'm not capable of hurting you."
"But…what about my mind?" she asked in a small voice.
"I don't know," I said, quite lost in her eyes—her giant, misshapen eyes. There was a silence. I knew, from then on, that there would be no manipulation. No soiling of her sanity. She didn't deserve it.
"Oh, Erik!" she sobbed, throwing herself into my arms. She was incredibly light, and I was able to catch her.
"Christine," I murmured, embracing her with a genuine grin. Was it sick that I was happy she was like me? No…it couldn't be…
"I'm happy. And I'm sorry."
"For what? You have done nothing wrong. Why, if you hadn't taken my mask off, none of this would have happened," I said cheerfully.
Christine clapped, delighted at my delightedness. She wasn't ugly in my eyes; her appearance only made me feel safe.
-
"I think you're lovely," I said softly, after we'd been sitting by the fire for over an hour in silence, and after much contemplation.
Christine smiled over me, her fangs glinting in the firelight. "Oh, Erik, you charming skeleton," she mused, wrapping her arms around her legs.
Charming skeleton. I could get used to that.