As the brougham was riding through the streets of Paris that night with the weak and emotionally less than stable Erik onboard, he couldn't see a thing from his tears. He was utterly sad, desperate and happy at the very same time, which made his weakness even greater. His mind was restlessly racing, yet he couldn't think logically and coherently, only images of the past flashed up in front of him. He closed his eyes and lay back on the brougham's seat taking a deep sigh. He felt lousy and yet marvelous.
Christine Daaé's beautiful face haunted him in his memories, he saw her sitting in front of him, as while during the rides to the Boulogne, when he took her out on those "rendez-vous" and was silently hoping that the girl will slowly get attached to him emotionally. The poor lady never really talked too much to him on those rides, and he did not say too much things either, as he did not know what to say. He was sure it bothered Christine, but simply nothing came to his mind that he could have told her. They were just distantly sitting in front of or next to each other, while the poor girl sure thought of that boy. She would have rather spent time with him other than Erik, he was aware of that.
But that last memory of Christine Daaé was so sweet and heartwarming that the awkward Boulogne rides were silently fading away, replaced by a smiling Christine sitting in front of him.
Her face was like a painting of an angel, no artist on Earth, or not even Michelangelo could have depicted her beauty as it was. Erik himself tried it several times, as he thought he could draw, and wanted a portrait of his beloved Christine, but he failed miserably each and every time. His hands weren't able to capture that angelic vision from Heaven. She was full of energy, cheerful, rosy skinned. She had a sweet little nose, full red lips, and clear blue eyes. Either the sky or the clearest water was reflecting in them. They changed color sometimes, depending on her mood. When she was happy, or listening to music, they lit with a shine of clear blue, when she was a bit of sad or gloomy, they changed to a darker shade with a glimpse of gray, and when she would sometimes turn upset, they even caught a hint of green in them. Her hair was silky, soft and golden, and it was such a miraculous sight to see the light playing with her locks. Her hair fell to her back when it was undone, but she mostly wore it halfway pinned up. Her hair was so nicely framing that cute face of hers... He was thankful he could see her in his life. Even though the last memory of her was a bit of painful for him, not only because the circumstances of that final night between them, but it was awfully heartbreaking to see Christine in that state. Her face was pale, her eyes were red from crying, wounds were covering her forehead and those eyes reflected such sadness he never wanted them to. He never wanted and intended to cause Christine any pain, and yet he was the one who hurt her more than anyone else on this cruel world. And yet, the sweet modest angel did not hold any grudges. In her shoes, he would have SLAPPED Erik, hit him, kick him, and hit his ugly skull head against the wall as well,,, but she did not do such things. She cried with him. She cried for him. She called him "Poor unhappy Erik" ! And she kissed him. He did not deserve a kiss, and yet he received one from that angel!
Oh, that kiss on his forehead felt much better than anything. It was sweeter than the finest selection of chocolate, It was warmer than the light touch of summer sun on his skin. It was one of the very rare occasions, after that kiss that Erik actually felt he had a heart in his chest.
- Monsieur, we are here! – He suddenly heard a male voice that distracted his musings. – Are you all right?
He opened his eyes. The road to the Opera never seemed to be so short. Did he fall asleep? Might be the case, easily. He wasn't feeling too well and this trip was wearing him out. And these memories...
- Monsieur...? – He could hear the driver jumping off of the box, walking closer to him. He had to collect his strength and stand up. He slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, as he found out, he was laying right at that moment, nearly slipped off of the seat. He should looked like a drunkard, wearing a full face black mask. Not a trustworthy sight. – May I help you? – The driver opened the door and tucked his head in.
- No, thank you. – Erik managed to finally open his mouth and squeeze out some words. He was now slowly staggering to his feet, and climbed out of the coach. He paid for the ride and slowly walked towards the Opera in that late hour of that spring night.
When he finally reached his home, he wasn't able to tell how he did it. How he managed to enter his home? Did he walk through Rue Scribe entrance, and did not use the lake, or did he actually row the boat across that damned water? He was sure not using the shortcut through the third cellar and the Torture Chamber, as he arrived his home through the drawing room, and not the Louis- Philippe room. He was so tired he thought he was going to die right at that moment. In the end, Erik finally did not collapse on his living room floor, but was strong enough to climb into his armchair. All his body was in pain. What his problem might be? Maybe he was really dying of love? Was that actually possible?
When he finally opened his eyes, after a sleep he did not know how long it lasted, his vision was slightly blurred. Otherwise he felt somewhat better, some sleep made him less weak. He stood up from his chair and aimlessly started to wander around his home, as he just saw it for the first time in his life. He couldn't find his place. He was alone again, and in his loneliness, waiting for death, he did not know what to do. Christine was in front of him again, he now saw her kneeling in front of the wall in the Louis- Philippe room, with blood dripping all over her face. It slowly soaked her dress and her hands were covered in it as well.
- Christine! – He cried out in horror. – What has happened...? Did you do it again? Why do you keep doing this? Isn't it good to be Erik's wife? – He knelt down in the empty room, sobbing, trying to lift Christine up to take care of her wounds, but his hands went through her, than the vision completely disappeared.
Erik's teeth chattered with cold, and he helplessly let out a painful cry. He closed his eyes, but suddenly Christine's bloody forehead appeared again, so he had to open his eyes to be saved from the sight. Oh that poor girl! What have Erik done to her? And the sweet little thing still wasn't m'd. She was feeling pity and love for him, and she was able to kiss him. And he did not even receive his punishment for his sins!
He let her hit her head against the wall, he tied her up, he dragged her through the room, he threatened her, he nearly killed her lover..., and she was still able to show compassion, and not punish him. What does the Bible say? What you give to others, you shall get it in return.
He shall have his punishment from himself if his dear Christine was so dear to him that she did not lift her tiny hand against him! Without a second thought, he slammed his forehead against the wall of the Louis Philippe room by full force. He could feel pain, but that was exactly what he wanted. He knocked his head against the wall for some more times, but he couldn't feel the sensation of blood trickling down his forehead. What a hard skull he has! Christine, the poor dear Christine sure started bleeding by half of these hits and not even a tiny wound could he cause for himself. What a monster has such a thick skull? It is true, he is not even a human being. All humans would die by this act. He did not give up though. He was never the one to give up things so easily. He slowly staggered to his feet, he felt dizzy. This was going to be the right way to go. Feeling disoriented might indicate concussion. He should suffer! Suffer a lot! He flinched back a few steps and leaned down so his head was angled towards the wall directly. He took a running leap, so maybe that will finally do the job. As his head hit the wall with full force, he could sense his teeth clash by the extreme hit, and the hole of his nonexistent nose started bleeding. Blood was running from his nose hole, slowly painting his shirtfront red, and he saw some bloodstains on his skeletal yellow hands and white cuffs.
- Finally... Erik got what he deserved! He did!
He smiled, as blood was slowly pouring down on his malformed, nearly missing lips, and neck, his white bow tie was tinted with a reddish shade as a few drops fell on it, and he collapsed onto the floor. He couldn't feel delight for too much time, as suddenly everything went black.