Here be a new one. Reviews are always encouraged
O.G.
Ten long years
She stared out the window, lines of age setting in her once perfect angelic face. Yet amongst those lines, laugh lines were absent as they had been for a decade. Laughter was absent. In fact it only appeared for Gustave, but even that was rare. Especially now.
She turned for a moment, to stroke back his dark hair. Clammy skin making it stick as he wheezed. His dark hair so much like how his father's probably would have been. His father's…
Living a mere facade of life
Ten long years
When was the last time her husband had even checked on his son. Or who he claimed was his son. When was the last time he even stayed home for a night? The last time he held and comfort his child, the last time he helped her? She couldn't remember. No. Her job wasn't to remember. It was to sit patiently waiting for him to come home and pretend everything was fine when it wasn't.
Still a caged song bird she looked back to the window.
Everyday.
Everyday she hoped and prayed and imagined that one day she would see a carriage approach. A man with a white mask to knock on there door or climb through her window. She hoped, against her wishes. He had hurt her. And every day he wasn't there only drove the knife of betrayal deeper. Yet despite it all, she waited. She hoped.
And everyday, she was disappointed.
Wasting my time on smoke and noise
She wished she could turn on her record player. Could drink her problems away as her husband did. Drink and forget her own name. Smoke until she didn't care if she had a name. Her record player in the background as she left this painful lonely world. But she couldn't. Not with her son possibly on his deathbed. Her last connection to her angel… Her own angel whom she loved more than anything and so it nearly killed her to see how thin he had gotten. How struggled he was for breath. How pale he was and his eyes, eyes that were closed more often than open. So she stayed by his side, day and night, despite how much she wanted to forget everything.
In my mind
I hear melodies pure and unearthly
But I find I can't give them a voice without you
What she would give to sing again. Truly sing. But without her angel of music, she found it hollow. Empty without meaning. Soon it faded entirely. Her memories of her once powerful voice haunting her. Yet she could always still manage to sooth her son. A mere whisper of what it once was, it still had a softness that could always put Her son to sleep.
My angels
My angels
Lost and gone
Lost and gone
She felt so alone. In that small bedroom. Surrounded by toys that now collected dust. All of her angels and perhaps god himself, were leaving her. And yet all she could do, was look out at the window, holding on to a false dream. One she knew would never come true.
The day starts
The day ends
Time crawls by
How many hours had she been in there? She lost count. These days, five minutes felt as if it were hours. Then again, did time even matter? It was all the same now. She was alone. Her son was dying. Day after day, night after night, nothing changed except his breath which slowly grew more ragged.
Time, it seemed, was leaving her too.
Night steals in
Pacing the floor
The figure of speech, wearing a hole in the floor, she realized, wasn't just a figure of speech. Her eyes traced vaguely the hardwood by the window, only to see it lighter and more worn. As it was by every window in this house. A caged bird looking out at a world she could never fly in. One she once soared in was all but foreign. The nights were worse. For sometimes, she would imagine a shadow moving and for a moment, a glimmering moment, she would hope that perhaps it was him. But everytime it proved to be an animal or breeze a moment later. At times she would break down at the feeling of being crushed all over again.
And she hated him for it. She hated herself for loving him.
The moments creep
Yet I can't bear to sleep
Till I hear you sing
She never slept these days. She would avoid it all costs. For she knew if she did, she would regret it. And these days it was easier to stay awake as she was to stand guard, a soul light for her son. Hoping when she knew it would fail. Praying when she knew she would be unheard. That her son might live. That he might be happy.
That he could meet his real father. That she could hear him, see his glimmering yellow eyes...
And weeks pass
And months pass
Seasons fly
Still you don't walk through the door
She wanted to scream. To rip open the window and let a wail that was so loud the world could hear it. That he'd have to come. But she knew he wouldn't. At first she was hopeful. Surely, he had not actually left her. That he had a reason and would come back with an apology and a kiss. A soft song to calm her. That they could be happy. But as months past and she grew to realize he wasn't coming back.
That she was staring at a window for nothing and yet, yet she had to. It was all she had.
And in a haze, I count the silent days
Till I hear you sing once more
She had given up on counting days. Weeks. Months. Soon years too would fade. But somehow, her heart still tremoured at his memory. Somehow, painfully, that never faded.
And sometimes at nighttime
I dream that you are there
But wake, holding nothing but the empty air
She stopped sleeping with Raoul years ago. She was tired of lying. Tired of saying it was a nightmare that made her wake up sobbing.
When really she had been with her angel. When really she wished she could stay in that dream, that memory, forever.
Waking up was always the worst part of falling asleep.
And years come
And years go
Time runs dry
Still I ache down to the core
My broken soul can't be alive and whole
Till I hear you sing once more
How she had not died from a broken heart was a mystery to her. Perhaps it was Gustave. Her one small, fading speck of light in the world. But as he faded, any part of herself that was left did as well. Was she even real? Was she alive? Or was she a ghost haunting the room, waiting. Always waiting. Years from now, when her bones truly are dust she felt as if her soul, or what was left of it, would still be in this room. Silent and by the window.
And music, your music
It teases at my ear
I turn and it fades away and you're not here
Sometimes she swore she could hear him. Actually hear him. Usually it was when she passed a mirror, the window, the door… whispering her name so softly it could barely be more than gentle breath. Yet even then it was so perfect in its sound it had to be him. But when she turned he wasn't there.
Perhaps he had died and it was his ghost haunting her. How would she know? Regardless if he was alive or not he was a ghost to her even now. A spirit and nothing more.
Let hopes pass
Let dreams pass
Let them die
Without you what are they for?
When her son died. She would follow. That much she was sure of. He was her hope. Her only dream. The only person she had left in this cold world. And without him, she would have nothing. So she would become, nothing.
I always feel no more than halfway real
Was she even Christine? Or a statue. A symbol. A woman waiting for something that felt like it would never come.
Till I hear you sing once more
The clock in the hall struck 12. Midnight. Right as a carriage pulled up.
Her breath caught. It was black and plain. Not one of her husband's. No… it couldn't be. Yet despite her pain she hoped.
She held her breath as she saw a tan man exit the carriage and go to the door. He looked vaguely familiar…
Confused and guiltly hopeful she turned to check on her son, who thankfully still slept on. His fever a bit lower today in a small blessing. She knew he would be asleep for several more hours at least so she placed a quick kiss on his forehead before slipping out.
She hurried down just to see the door open. Thankfully she was at least still in her tea dress as she had lost track of time earlier.
And then she recognized him. His name clicked and she said with a confused smile "Mr. Khan? It has been so long. Please do come in. Tell me how you are." She said, giving him. A friendly hug as she remembered his help over a decade ago.
He gave a warm smile and nod, following her. "I am very well thank you Christine. And you can always call me Nadir."
She nodded respectfully and sat as a servant went to make tea. "So… What do I have to owe this visit? I hope it is something good?" She asked worry crossing her face. He knew her angel… what if.
She swallowed fear. Oh if only she could hate him. For all he did to her…
Nadir gave a warm smile and said comfortingly, catching her gaze "I hope, it is… I, well. Have done something rather… extreme but I hope it benefits you both. Now Christine tell me. Be honest. How are you? I don't want to sound a gossip but… I have heard things haven't been easy these past two years. For you or your son…"
She swallowed and sighed, looking at her hands before shaking her head. Quietly she said "He gets worse everyday. The doctors give him another year at best… and I-I feel so alone. You know about our money I'm sure. And that I am essentially the only one ever home..." finally she looked up, an older look in her eyes as she asked coldly, her extreme bitterness showing through "How much did he tell you? And if you are on his behalf because he is too much of a coward to face me then tell him I won't hear it but from him. Preferably within punching distance."
Nadir let out a small snort. "Well. I don't blame you on that. And when I finally managed to pry out of him exactly why he left I did in fact, punch him. For being an idiot. And if you wish to take your frustration out on him, after all he did, I would feel wrong to even try and stop you."
She swallowed. He was alive. And that seemed to set her heart thumping. Shaking slightly now she couldn't help but ask "How is he then?"
Part of her hoped he was suffering terribly. That he would suffer just a fraction of what she felt.
"He… he is not well Christine. Each day I feel he is less and less… himself. He regrets leaving, Christine. Regrets leaving to the point he barely moves. Barely eats or sleeps. He even gave up trying to walk again and working on the prosthetic For his leg. For years he would not even speak but… well after I finally slipped a bit of… something into his drink one night, I got him to talk… and the moment I found out I did something a bit drastic… but I need to know, do you want to see him? Whether to yell at him or… anything else?"
Without thought she nodded. She wanted him and to give him a piece of her mind at least.
Nadir smiled and stood with a nod. And before she could add anything he hurried out.
She held her breath in shock and confusion. What would she say? But before she could back out and hide up stairs in her son's room, Nadir returned. He was pushing a wheelchair where sat a very thin, frail masked man.
His eyes darted to look directly at Christine. Her heart stopped.
She was surprised at the sudden emotional turmoil that flooded her in that moment as she stared back. Anger, white hot flooded her. An anger that had been brewing for ten years took over. But another feeling, deeper and more fundamental to her being was leaping with absolute joy.
He looked terrified to see her. And for the moment of passion she settled back into anger. A biting bitter anger. One that left her speechless.
Before she knew what she was doing she was across the room and in front of him. She slipped off the mask without a second thought before slapping the absolute hell out of him.
He didn't retaliate. In fact he almost looked relieved that she did. He swallowed and turned back to face her.
Finally he broke the silence. His voice cracked and sounded as every bit of unused as Nadir had described. "I am glad to see I am just as welcomed and unwanted as I told nadir I would be. But I will have you know it is not my choice to be here. As he kidnapped me. I've been good, letting you live a happier life… without me. Honestly I hoped you would have forgotten me. I hope everyone forgets me."
Her eyes narrowed with every word. Her voice was cold, bitter, sarcastic. "Forgotten you? Forgotten you!? Well it's kind of hard to forget when your own fucking son is upstairs! Or did you forget about that night all together hmm? Never cared to find out if I was okay or if, I don't know, if I even wanted you to leave that night? No. It's all you you you. You selfish bastard! Ten years! I waited! Ten fucking years you have left me alone to suffer while I watch! Our! Fucking! Son! Die!" with each word she slapped him in her anger. She wished he was standing just so she could kick as well. All of her frustration of the past two years and decade in general were suddenly spewing forth.
He looked shocked when she paused for breath. His eyes wide and destroyed face trembling with a deep horror. "S-son?"
She nearly shreaked. " YES. SON. BUT WHAT DO YOU FUCKING CARE! YOU LEFT ME, ALONE AND WITH CHILD YOU COMPLETE ASS!" She said before finally breaking down into broken sobs. This was too much for her. And soon she found herself on her knees sobbing.
To Erik this was somehow worse.
"I-I trusted you. Lo-ve you… and you le-ft us! Left me… And n-now he's dying. And where were you!? W-where were you…"
Erik looked faint but they were both interrupted by a frantic servant. "madam! Gustave! He stopped breathing all toget-OH MY GOD!" She screamed before fainting after catching sight of Erik without his mask. Christines eyes widened and without a second thought she darted upstairs, her heart stopping all at once.
O.G.
Cliffhangers, am I right?