Disclaimer: *looks at cue cards* Forget it. I'm not even going to bother.
A/N- Another short story on DEATH! DEATH! *evil laughter*
Another A/N- Raoul dies...yesh...hehehehe....
All I Ask of You
I lay on my death-bed, the fever raging in my body. Christine patted my hand nervously. She knew I was dying, and I knew it also. Both of us were afraid to admit it, and we both knew the end was near. Her clear blue eyes were filled with tears. "Raoul dear, just rest for a minute. Shh..." My angel managed a weak smile and clasped my pale and clammy hand in her smaller, yet equally white one.
I closed my eyes and tried not to feel the pressing weight of death upon me. Christine and I had been living in Scandinavia, in a remote town far from any large city, for twenty years now. Until this time we had been quite content with our simple life, though Christine desperately missed singing, which I had restricted her from doing. Singing reminded me of that.... that monster that lived underneath the Paris Opéra. Maybe she wanted to be reminded of the monster.
That monster had been the whole reason for our flight from France; after the scandal at the Opéra, we knew it would be impossible to live without strange glances from passers-by, and biting remarks from friends of my family. Christine seldom mentioned him, but when she did, I became furious. Who was she to speak about a man who had kidnapped her, killed my brother, and threatened to blow up the Paris Opéra? She would protest that his real name was "Erik," or something like that. What did that Erik fellow have to do with our new life? Absolutely nothing!
Christine gently kissed my forehead. Her lips felt cool against my skin. Although we were both growing old, she was still strikingly beautiful. Her dark curls brushed my ears. I closed my eyes. "Raoul, the doctor will be here soon. Close your eyes and sleep." That was a lie. There was no doctor within thirty miles of our remote home, but she was doing her best to calm me.
"Christine, do you love me?" It had escaped my lips. The question that I had wanted to ask for twenty years. She looked at me as if I were insane.
"Of course, Raoul. I love you. Don't be silly." Another lie. She loved Erik! She loved that Erik who kidnapped her and committed horrible crimes. She loved that Erik with a face like a corpse. Why did she not love me? I was handsome. I was not guilty of any crime. I had never done anything wrong. I was married to the woman I loved, and the woman who did not love me back.
How did I know that she had her heart set on another? She would always glance out the window and hum a little tune, sighing wistfully. Sometimes, I could even hear her murmur the word "Erik."
The little things like that made me doubt her love for me.
As she stroked and patted my hand comfortingly, I lay there, agonizing over love. Had she lied to me for my entire life? Had she never loved me at all? Perhaps right now all she wanted was to be with that...that...creature...that had enough pride and arrogance to call himself human! I would never know the truth.
Suddenly, her image began to swim before my eyes, and I gripped her hand tighter as I felt myself departing.
"Love me. Christine, that's all I ask of you."
Then, before the darkness, a very faint "I love you."
A/N- Another short story on DEATH! DEATH! *evil laughter*
Another A/N- Raoul dies...yesh...hehehehe....
All I Ask of You
I lay on my death-bed, the fever raging in my body. Christine patted my hand nervously. She knew I was dying, and I knew it also. Both of us were afraid to admit it, and we both knew the end was near. Her clear blue eyes were filled with tears. "Raoul dear, just rest for a minute. Shh..." My angel managed a weak smile and clasped my pale and clammy hand in her smaller, yet equally white one.
I closed my eyes and tried not to feel the pressing weight of death upon me. Christine and I had been living in Scandinavia, in a remote town far from any large city, for twenty years now. Until this time we had been quite content with our simple life, though Christine desperately missed singing, which I had restricted her from doing. Singing reminded me of that.... that monster that lived underneath the Paris Opéra. Maybe she wanted to be reminded of the monster.
That monster had been the whole reason for our flight from France; after the scandal at the Opéra, we knew it would be impossible to live without strange glances from passers-by, and biting remarks from friends of my family. Christine seldom mentioned him, but when she did, I became furious. Who was she to speak about a man who had kidnapped her, killed my brother, and threatened to blow up the Paris Opéra? She would protest that his real name was "Erik," or something like that. What did that Erik fellow have to do with our new life? Absolutely nothing!
Christine gently kissed my forehead. Her lips felt cool against my skin. Although we were both growing old, she was still strikingly beautiful. Her dark curls brushed my ears. I closed my eyes. "Raoul, the doctor will be here soon. Close your eyes and sleep." That was a lie. There was no doctor within thirty miles of our remote home, but she was doing her best to calm me.
"Christine, do you love me?" It had escaped my lips. The question that I had wanted to ask for twenty years. She looked at me as if I were insane.
"Of course, Raoul. I love you. Don't be silly." Another lie. She loved Erik! She loved that Erik who kidnapped her and committed horrible crimes. She loved that Erik with a face like a corpse. Why did she not love me? I was handsome. I was not guilty of any crime. I had never done anything wrong. I was married to the woman I loved, and the woman who did not love me back.
How did I know that she had her heart set on another? She would always glance out the window and hum a little tune, sighing wistfully. Sometimes, I could even hear her murmur the word "Erik."
The little things like that made me doubt her love for me.
As she stroked and patted my hand comfortingly, I lay there, agonizing over love. Had she lied to me for my entire life? Had she never loved me at all? Perhaps right now all she wanted was to be with that...that...creature...that had enough pride and arrogance to call himself human! I would never know the truth.
Suddenly, her image began to swim before my eyes, and I gripped her hand tighter as I felt myself departing.
"Love me. Christine, that's all I ask of you."
Then, before the darkness, a very faint "I love you."