Hello everyone!
I decided to post this story after a ridiculously long debate with myself and I can honestly say that it needed all of my bravery. It's my first attempt to write a multichapter story, please take it with all of its faults and values; I tried my best. There will be seven chapters which I plan to upload weekly. I hope you'll like it.
Thank you for reading!
Ch1
Something was pressing his legs adamantly. When he commanded them to move, they didn't. Then he tried to lift only one of them but it refused to move. They weren't chained to the ground, though; they were rather grown into the ground, condemning him to stay still while every fiber of his being wanted to run. Far away from him in the distance he could make out the snow-white layers of her skirts as they flew after her running form.
"Christine, wait!"
It seemed she couldn't hear him for she never once looked back but kept moving, faster and faster with every passing moment. His knees buckled and he dropped to his knees, feeling how water sipped through the legs of his trousers.
Just water…
Of course he wasn't able to run in water! With great effort he lifted one leg, then the other, putting them slowly after each other but Christine's frame was already so small he could hardly make it out in the distance. A drop of something fell to his face, then another, and another. Water was running down his cheeks, blurring his vision and the image of his beloved and he angrily wiped them away.
Tears.
By then Christine was nothing more than a little white spot on the horizon but he couldn't bid himself to stop running. She can't leave, she has to stay and he has to tell her…
She disappeared. For minutes, he resumed running toward the direction he saw her dissolving into thin air but he couldn't catch a glimpse of her again. Maybe she'd come back… All he has to do was to wait for her arrival.
Or maybe she's been behind him for all the time… Frantically, he whirled around but there was no one there. Even the water vanished from around his ankles and he had no idea where he was. No walls; it couldn't be his lair. No blue sky; he wasn't outside. No darkness so it must be daytime – without the sun or light. How could he see at all without light? Something warmed his chest but there was nothing he could feel in his heart. Maybe it stopped beating, freeing him from this life he didn't want to live anymore. He closed his eyes but her picture was already burned into his mind; he didn't need to think of her, her face was all that he could see.
"Christine…"
"I'll always be here…"
Erik's eyes cracked open with a start and he needed a couple of minutes to slow his breathing. Just a nightmare…
Was he asleep? When was the last time he had any sleep at all? And how long had he been asleep? Hours? Days? Weeks? He couldn't sleep since she left – since an unknown period of time before. Maybe he really died, not just dreamt it. Maybe this was death itself. Cold and lonely; not very different from what he already knew.
"I'll always be here…"
When did Christine say that? Certainly not when she left. Some time later, some time what wasn't so long ago but when was that 'not long ago'?
Though his nightmare was now far away, the pressure on his legs remained there, making him unable to move or to rise. Shreds of memories came back to him about sitting on the floor, about crying and cursing fate for his very existence and he groaned in embarrassment and shame and – pain. It didn't really matter though; it wasn't as if he'd never done so before. The only thing he didn't understand was why didn't he end his life last night.
Maybe he was still situated on the floor; that would explain that terrible ache in his back, too. How strange, the warmth on his chest remained there from the dream as well…
With a tired sigh, he rubbed his eyes and then opened them again, and this time he knew where the pressure and the heat came from.
Christine was still peacefully asleep on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder and her breath ruffling the fabric of his shirt.
Memories rushed back to him in an instant and now he remembered that yesterday – or rather at the time before he fell asleep – she came back in tears, sobbing fitfully before she could form any kind of answer or explain why was she there.
One of her hands rested in her lap and on her forth finger there was something, glittering even in the darkness of the house. His ring. She could have left easily while he was unconscious – considering that he didn't even remember at first that she was sitting on his lap in an awkward position – but she stayed. Emotions flooded him but for fear that he'd wake her instantly if he gave in to them, he simply stroked her cheek lightly with one, trembling finger.
She decided to stay with him…
"If only you'd stay here forever," he whispered to her motionless form and secretly he was grateful beyond anything that she didn't stir. Good. As long as she was asleep, she couldn't change her mind.
His head pounded savagely. When was the last time he got anything to eat or drink? A week, maybe? Crying for days surely didn't help, either. As minutes ticked by, the urge to move his tired limbs grew more and more insurmountable until he warily had to switch his weight a little on his legs. Christine woke up immediately.
"Good morning," she breathed into the air, smiling without opening her eyes. "Erik."
"Good morning, my love." It was a fitting term, wasn't it? She was to be his wife soon; she wouldn't take it as an offence, right? Seemingly she didn't mind that for her smile only grew brighter and finally she opened her eyes.
"I had a wonderful sleep," she said then gave him a soft kiss to his exposed cheek and he froze. He had entirely forgotten he wasn't wearing the mask and the knowledge that she touched his face without hesitation made his heart beat frantically. Fortunately, she didn't notice it. "And you?"
"Yes… me too," he stuttered inelegantly before moving a little again uncomfortably.
"Do you feel uncomfortable? I haven't realized I should…" In that instant, she rose to her feet with a little sway and he already regretted he stirred at all, missing her weight and warmth in the very moment she stood.
"I'll light some candles," he addressed her softly. But first, I have to find my mask.
"Do you want me to help?" She offered timidly while trying not to stumble on anything. She didn't remember the floor would have littered with so many… something.
"No," he replied immediately, then hastily added, "Thank you."
Now he could feel, too, that the floor of his once tidy house was covered all over with broken furniture and shivers of glass and little pieces of the broken mirrors cracked every now and then under his boots. Great. She would come to see all the damage he caused in his home after she'd left him. The last few days he spent in the haze of fury, ripping and breaking everything he could reach and destroy and now the effect of that would be on display for Christine to see. This was a very great start, really.
After some moments of feverish search for his mask he gave up without result and lit the first candle he could find. The house was a mess and in ruins and Christine's surprised gasp didn't lessen the terrible feeling in his chest. Was this the moment she changed her mind?
"I fear there's nothing I can offer you for breakfast but if you wait a little I'll fetch you something," he said, careful to keep his back to her direction.
"That would be wonderful," she agreed helpfully but he could hear in her voice the confusion as well. "Can I help you with something?" Clean up the house, maybe?
"No, I'll be back soon. Make yourself comfortable… if that's possible."
With that he turned, leaving a very baffled Christine in the main room. His bedroom was in ruins as well but there remained enough for him to take a quick bath and to change into crumpled yet clean clothes and finally, he found a mask. Somehow his coat managed to stay on its right place, and he draped it over his shoulders before leaving for shopping.
When he opened the gate he was faced with the grey, afternoon sky and huge, lazy snowflakes were swaying in the air. Usually he did all his shopping at dawn or right after sunset but it seemed he lost track of time since he was last up in the world. He should have asked Christine how many days passed since then – or rather not, considering that she'd seen him weak enough and now was closed in with the evidence of his desperate state of mind.
At least it wasn't suspicious at all that he pulled the hood deep down into his eyes.
Generally he chose different shops all around in the city to avoid being recognized but it wouldn't have been wise to keep Christine waiting while he picked up food from the other side of Paris. And he needed to go back to fix the damage he caused in the rooms. It seemed fate was against him as he had to wander for a very long time until he finally found a small bakery without any customer and he slipped inside, ready for attack in every moment, should someone recognize him.
There was an old man standing behind the counter and Erik cautiously walked towards him. His demeanor seemed calm enough to purchase quickly why he came.
"A good day to you, monsieur!" He greeted Erik cheerfully and Erik growled something what could be taken as an answer before the man spoke again.
"Can I help you, monsieur? We have the most delicious bread rolls to offer in the whole city." The fact that Erik kept the hood on didn't bother the man the slightest; he had good eyes to recognize the fine quality of his attire and now was hoping that he'd win a rich and a hopefully regular customer.
"Do you have pastries?"
"There are dozens you can choose from! Which one would you like the best?" He lowered his voice suddenly. "Or is it not for yourself? For a beautiful girl, maybe?" The man winked here meaningfully. "Would you like some sweets as well?"
Though he got no answer, the man watched with growing satisfaction as the rich customer picked five different pastries and was walking toward the breads. The more he sampled the best it would be for the business.
"Oh, these days are not very pleasant for young ladies. You'd better to watch that girl closely, monsieur," the salesman continued unwaveringly, now determined to sell him as much food as he was able to since the customer in the hood was still not finished. "They say that the Phantom of the opera house now is out in the city since the building burnt out."
In that very moment Erik's heart leapt to his throat and he felt how rage flooded his veins in an instant. With forced slow and deep breaths he commanded himself to calm before he'd give away his true identity. The man didn't suspect a thing for he eagerly reported the rumors he knew, or if he did suspect something he was foolish enough to reveal the information for him. It seemed he didn't know who he was; he was walking towards him to wrap up a piece of bread for him. Yes, he couldn't know it, yet. Erik was determined to keep it that way.
"My neighbor told me this morning that the Phantom abducted that young soprano, Christine Daaé again, this time from the very home of the young Vicomte! The gendarmes are already after him but I don't think they'll find him." At the end, the man shook his head reprovingly and Erik was tempted to kill this man right there and then. How dare he to state such a thing! He didn't abduct Christine, she came back willingly!
Or did she?...
She could have come back with the plan to give him away to the gendarmes, to help the Vicomte to finish his failed plan days ago. How foolish he'd been to believe her! Her tears, her sobs, the look in her eyes, her vows of love and marriage, they all seemed genuine to him. He wanted so badly to believe she genuinely loved him that he didn't question her motives. But it would be useless to kill this man. The rumors were probably all around in the city by now.
The salesman finished wrapping up the items he'd chosen but Erik wasn't so eager to buy them anymore. However, if he stormed out of the bakery now to get back to the opera house as soon as possible, the man would know in the instant who he had talked to. No. Rather he'd pay quickly and rush back to take Christine with him to a safe place. The man told him the cost and he paid without a thought.
"Be careful, monsieur, they say he's more dangerous than any criminal they've ever seen! And," here the man lowered his voice conspiratorially, "it's said he's as hideous as the devil himself." The man finished with a look of triumph on his face, satisfied that it was him who could share this exquisite gossip with this taciturn and obviously ignorant man.
For a torturous moment, Erik was tempted to show the shopkeeper how damn right they were but then reluctantly decided against it. He needed to leave in this instant; he had no time to waste, especially not for murder. It would be messy and slow him down. He forced nonchalance and picked up the package with the pastries.
"I've been told he died in the fire," he managed to growl through clenched teeth and with that, he left the shop and its disappointed owner behind.
Fresh air cleaned his thoughts however as he stepped out into the streets. What kind of fool would believe gossips? And he would have seen the gendarmes around the opera house as he left earlier if they were after him as he thought; but no. Christine said the truth. She decided to be with him.
Not as if it would have been the first time she betrayed him…
Experience fought with conscience until he reached the opera house, where at least forty gendarmes were standing in front of the building.
It was definitely a large enough number for a burnt out building.