"I take thee, Christine, to be my wife."
Those were the words I heard from his dead lips, their meaning never filtering into my mind and revealing the consequences of such a title. Wife. I was now wife to the opera ghost. A man whose face matched the gruesomeness of his crimes and the murderous past that I had just been introduced to. He was mask-less in front of me, staring with scars and damage blatantly on display, features twisting in a silent agony.
Tears were falling from those yellowish eyes, sunken and nearly two black hollow holes as if the face itself was melting and only skull and bone were visible. He was a corpse; dead and cold and lifeless. There was no way around his distortion and with it so close, with cool breath upon my temple, I shivered in response of his voice. His voice, that sound...that glorious sound! It was no wonder that my gullible mind had conjured an angel in it's wake. Thoughts of ghosts and demons never entered my dreams as the angel sang to me.
Oh, how I was so wrong to believe in angels. The man...rather the devil himself, was in front of me, shaking with trembling hands coming up to smooth the flesh of my arms. They found purchase at the nape of my neck, grasping at my mass of curls that draped delicately down my back. I cried out for him to release me, a desperate yet futile attempt for him to let me go. But I was his now. I belonged to him. Any chance of freedom was tossed aside with my dreams of angels and the joy music used to bring me.
Music, always music. It was my first love, my first passion...he understood at least that facet of my soul. But perhaps he understood it too much. He had used music to seduce me into believing my dying father's words were coming true, that an angel would appear and take me under his wing. I should of known that my angel did not exist...but in it's stead the body of a mortal, conniving and monstrous man who deceived me for his own gain. There was never any regard as to how I would react to any of his lies. All he knew in his miserable life was to take and behave selfishly.
I shuddered at the feel of his hands grazing my hair at the back of my neck, fingertips like ice sweeping down over my collarbone to touch brazenly at my bodice and outline the shape it gave.
"To have and to hold..."
Those hands, cold like a corpses' against my heated skin, grazed back over my bare shoulders and down over my small amount of lace sleeve. They were bold and unhinged, moving down over my bodice again and resting at the swell of my hips. I was thankful that the boning of my corset protected my skin from feeling the coldness of his hands. With no gloves, however, where his hands held to my waist coming to the small of my back, his touch nearly seared me with an unknown heat and it made me afraid.
I closed my eyes at the sensation; wincing a more appropriate description. It was a sensation that I fought with my mind, never daring to raise my hands and push him away. We were past that childish game and I had finally succumbed to letting him bend me to his every wish and whim. I was prepared to do anything and everything that he asked of me, anything to keep his temper at bay and his hands upon me gentle and reserved.
I timidly opened eyes to see my reflection within his, a new possession in those yellowing depths that both frightened and exhilarated me. I couldn't help but let my gaze trail over those horrible scars, the gaping hole at the middle of it all where a nose should have been. The image was something out of a nightmare, but this was real. In the blur of tears I saw his lips, bloated and distorted speaking the vows of marriage as if he had such a right.
A pang of mistrust and fear shook me down to my soul. I didn't know whether to believe Erik. What if I spoke the vows as he did only to be betrayed and my dear beloved Raoul die anyway? I couldn't take any chances and so played the Phantom's game. I took in the sepulchral black of my surroundings. Yes, I was in a tomb, a tomb of his design and I was being buried alive.
"From this day forward..."
Each word was paralyzing and equally as unnerving. I let him hold at my waist as if he truly possessed me. And though the vows flowed seamlessly and sickeningly saccharine from his malformed mouth with that angelic voice, I made vows of my own, internal and silent. I would never be his. He could take and do with me what he wished, make me a bride of hell and consummate our facade of a marriage and pretend all he liked. But I would never give him my heart...that was something that belonged to Raoul ...and would always belong to him until the day I die.
My veil, white and pure as the rest of my apparel, could not shield the tears coming down from my eyes. Let him think that they were happy tears; his fragile mind would mask such subtle nuances of emotion. He was finally getting what he wanted all along, me as his bride and the satisfaction as my true fiance watched in horror.
Erik paused his breath, touching beneath my chin as he lifted my gaze to meet his. I could see my reflection in those dark pools, a solid contrast between black and white. Amidst all the silks and laces he had tied me into, with all the pure and smooth fabrics sliding across my skin, I felt not as a blushing bride...but a sordid woman who had made a union with Lucifer. A wedding gown with blood smattered all over it's fine material would be more suitable for this marriage. Erik's hands were stained with it from his years of crimes. Was I to be one more?
"For better for worse..."
He kept his hold firm but surprisingly gentle on my chin the chill of his fingers causing a chill down my spine through the thin gauze of my veil, practically forcing me to look up into those eyes so full of pain. This was hurting him! Perhaps he knew of my love for Raoul and that it knew no bounds! His long, slender fingers wrapped at my veil and drew it away, leaving my tear-stained face naked to the air just as his was. He looked at me for a moment before the next breath of vow and sighed deeply. I didn't know what to think...or what was turning in the inner workings of that brilliant but frightening he pondering letting me go? Was he drinking in my dark features laden with fatigue and fear?
His gaze went to that of the Vicomte, my love, behind the wall of the torture chamber. Erik had lit all the kerosene lamps within the mirrors. What had been just Raoul's reflection now gave him a perfect view of the horrific wedding that was taking place. The acrid smell of the underground melting into that of the kerosene fumes made my head spin and nausea waved within me, turning my stomach. I could see my love shouting behind that glass, yelling my name...but I couldn't hear him. Oh, but he could hear Erik. Each word, each vow of love and marriage to me had to have been a dagger in Raoul's heart.
I took each piercing stab myself, unable to ignore the words spilling from that grotesque mouth.
The angelic tones that I had once fallen in love with as a child were now turning cold and demon-like. Each syllable laced with a jealous rage as he looked upon Raoul and then back at me. Erik scoffed every line from then on, his grip coming to rest on my upper arms clearly showing that I was his property and that Raoul had no right of me anymore.
"For richer for poorer..."
A rustle of my skirts and a sharp cry from my lips seemed to bypass his intricate hearing as he pulled me to him, hard and unforgiving. I could see now that this was mostly a show for my poor Raoul, who watched in terror as the monster enveloped his prey. This was my fault and I could blame no one but myself.
I stayed silent, save for the small gasps from my gentle sobbing. I had no strength left in me to fight, allowing him to speak to me the words of marriage which were to be said with trust and...love. Instead it was all a farce. Another illusion for all to hear and bear witness to! He loved me. I knew Erik loved me. But it was a dangerous love. It wasn't the innocent and gentle kind that I held for Raoul. No, this was possession.
If repeating the vows back to him would free the love of my life from certain death then I had been willing to say them three-times over. But I wasn't so sure I could trust my own heart. My heart thudded beneath my breast in it's own terrible rhythm What spell had he wove over me to think otherwise? Was I the only being on this earth to see the potential good in this poor man? His crimes were arguably inexcusable and I had no interest in learning their true extent. I had seen enough already.
"In sickness and in health..."
I had imagined repeating these words back to Raoul. I couldn't help but look over to him, finding him lying on the heated floor of the torture chamber. He was panting for air, coughing and sweat dripping from his forehead. He was dying! And I couldn't let him go! Only with the finishing of wedding vows would I be bound to Erik forever...and only then Raoul could be let free. I prayed silently, closing my eyes and saying much different words in my head hoping God would hear me.
I cried softly as Erik continued his fevered words of love and devotion. Their meaning held nothing but violence and pain, sadness devoid of any feeling but that of grief and mourning. I was mourning over the loss of my innocence, the loss of my heart, Raoul and the impending darkness that awaited me upon becoming Erik's property. With not even a modicum of freedom and bereft of fresh air and sunlight I was doomed to live a life in the dark with my captor. Any slight wavering of my devotion to him, any hint of disloyalty and I would have to succumb to his wrath. His violence was something he would always be able to control me with. I was afraid to die and afraid to be in pain.
I knew in my heart that if I obeyed my new husband and granted any wish that he may ask of me that I would not have to endure any additional horrors. My insides were twisting with anxiety and I let the tears fall from my eyes as I writhed in his hands. I wanted this to be over and my beloved set free.
"Until death do us part..."
Sensing my growing anticipation and heightening irritation to be even touched by him, he clutched tighter at the small of my back, nearly weaving his fingers into the laces of my dress. I felt that same hand come up into my curls and pull at my hair, my eyes now looking upward to meet his stare. Both palms came to slide up my bodice and cupped at my face, wiping away tears with gentle thumbs. He had the potential to be gentle and compassionate, though his display was mainly for his own satisfaction that Raoul watched from afar and unable to stop him.
Raoul was too weak to impugn on the scene in front of him. I watched as he gasped for air, seemingly giving up home and lying on the floor, defeated and near death. I had cried the duration of this sham of a ceremony. In my eyes, with no priest before us condoning such an atrocity, this was not a marriage. Erik could call it whatever he wished...but in the end he knew I did this not for him, but for Raoul to be set free. I had willingly given myself to my abductor out of fear and I couldn't recant on acquiescing such an agreement.
My eyes lifted from the veil of tears and I looked into my husband's eyes. Closing my sore eyes in pain renewed and letting the tears fall without any fear that Erik would despise my emotions, knowing full well they were not tears of marital bliss and joy.
"With this ring, I thee wed..."
He procured a gold band from his pocket and slid it violently on my finger. I flinched at him and tried to pull away but he forced me back to him in one yank at my arm. No doubt there would be bruises left behind.
Erik's dark and terrible features were moist with his own tears but I had suspected that they were for a different reason then my own. His clammy palms came back to cup my delicate face, my skin flushed with fever. As if never noticing the dying man behind the mirrors, Erik looked at me and then to my mouth, bending down ever so carefully and gentle to place his lips upon mine.
I tasted the salt of tears but I refrained from shrinking away. Rejection would only anger him...and I was so close to getting Raoul out of that contraption. I let him kiss me. And I kissed him back with equal pressure. His breath hitched in his throat and he stepped away from me, as if my lips, my touch were poison. I looked at him with fear coursing steadily through my veins, humming it's own rhythm as I watched him open the mirrors to the torture chamber.
My knees were wobbly and I almost fell to the ground. I rushed to Raoul's side on unsteady legs, helping Erik pull him out of the heated room that was unbearable...even within the seconds I was in it's walls. Raoul groaned in pain, nearly unconscious. I touched his cheek, my hands cool to his skin. His flesh burned me and I winced with tears incessant.
Erik grabbed me at my waist away from Raoul; only then did I have strength enough to try and fight him off. Even with full power in my limbs I could not match his grip, tugging my arm painfully to throw me into my room. When the door locked and I stood behind it in all my bridal silks and satins, I could only cry and scream and hope that Erik would let my poor Raoul live.
I must have fallen asleep in my distress and fatigue, the emotions of the evening too much to bare. I felt two hands come beneath me, the folds of my dress too thin not to notice the chill they bore. I didn't lift my lashes to see who it was; I already knew who could possess such a cold touch all the time. I laid my head against him out of a weak and wearing resurfacing of consciousness, feeling a sigh pass his lips. When my body was laid upon the mattress I opened my eyes, eerily confident that the monster who had conducted his own marriage to me ...also had a mind to consummate it as well.
"Please...don't touch me..." My voice remarked weak and thin though the thought behind it carried much more hate and anger. He only looked at me, removing his hands from around my waist and sitting on the edge of my bed.
"I never said my vows, Erik...I never said them!" I suddenly had a lift of energy that sat me upright in the soft folds of my bed clothes. "I am not yours!"
"Vow or no vow to me, Christine...you are mine. That was our bargain, remember? If you want the boy dead, just say the word. I can annul what has been done before your insolent God in one snap of his neck. What an ignorant thought Christine ...that speaking such simple words makes you mine or not mine. I own your very soul!"
"You're right...words mean nothing if you simply say them. If it was Raoul standing before me and I had to say the same vows you repeated to me...I would speak them, yes...but with feeling and passion. I would mean each and every syllable. I would look into his eyes, full of life and love...and I would mean every word until I truly did meet my dying day."
"It is a pity then that I did not require you to repeat such nonsense. I would have loved to have critiqued such a performance afterward! Shall I still play teacher to you, Christine? Shall I tell you what was wrong with your role tonight as a blushing, virginal bride? How brazen of you my dear, to have your fiance uttering words of marriage and then you looking over at your lover behind your shoulder. Tsk, tsk, Christine...that is not a way to treat your new husband."
"This ...is not a marriage! And you are not my husband!"
"Very well," I watched as he lifted himself off of the mattress. "Shall I give him a slow demise with your name passing his last breath? Or do you want me to make it quick?"
"No! No...no, please..." I put my hand up in protest, closing my eyes. I began to shake again and tears flowed freely without my consent. "Don't hurt him...just...just let him be." I opened my eyes to see him reaching for the door with a rage behind his eyes.
"No Erik!" I screamed, nearly leaping out of the bed to my feet, my gait shifting from weakness. "Erik, please!"
"Then no more talk of this not being a marriage. Prove to me that you are my wife and not an insolent child. Prove your loyalty to the Victome ...and to me. Although you cannot serve two masters, I can make an exception so that you may save him."
"How am I to prove what is not in my heart?" I cried, leaning against one of my bed posts.
"Make a vow to me. Vow to me right now that you will forget your previous life, the opera...all of it! Allow my words to you to become valid and true. Let me take care of you as I have done since you were a child and unaware of your angel. Vow to be my wife as you so adamantly stated would be the deal if I let your lover go. The Devil doesn't take back on contracts, Christine...when you deal with the Lucifier that mark is forever on your soul, black and unbreakable. You are mine for life, Christine. It is up to you how you shall live that life with me. You don't have to be a prisoner...you don't have to hate me. Love me...and I will give you the world."
I continued to cry softly, my sobs burning my own ears. I had promised my heart to the Opera Ghost... and to save my Raoul, I would do anything.
Reluctantly I eyed him at the doorway, his hand still paused to open the door and find the Vicomte. My lips parted and I softly vowed, "I am your wife, Erik...my life is in your hands."