Thank you for all of the constructive criticism. I will try to work on your suggestions.
Also, in answer to your question, Erik'stared mother'said name will be revealed later on. That was intentionally left out. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the next chapter! It'seems a little longer!
Diclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of it'so characters or plot pieces. The only thing that is my own is my spin on the story.
Over the course of the next 9 months I learned many things. This pregnancy was not normal. And, Erik never should have survived. I spent most of my term on bed rest, movies into the hospital at the end. It was a very difficult pregnancy, but much to my dismay, I was alone through it all. I did everything I could to find Erik's father. I went the the nightclub we met almost every night. I ransacked my house searching for some sort of note, but he was gone. I was constantly in pain from both the pregnancy and my broken heart. I refused to tell my parents, making excuses for why they couldn't visit me. I had never felt more alone.
The came the day of Erik's birth. The therapist my gynecologist made me see had assured me of how wonderful this day would be. He told me that for Erik to have survived all the complications was proof of a miracle, and that I would not be alone.
The moment I heard his cry for the first time, it was joined by a gasp of horror. The nurses went dead silent and several turned away. "What's the matter? What happened to him?" I screamed.
Finally, I was answered. "Erik will need to have some tests done, he's alive." Then they rushed my baby out the doors before I could get a look at him.
The next few hours were excruciating as I waited to hear word. No one would tell me what was wrong with him and the nurses would only shoot me pitiful glances. The doctor came in by himself and I geared myself for what I thought was the worst.
"Erik is perfectly healthy," he informed me. I breathed a sigh of relief but I could feel that there was something he wasn't telling me. "He, however, is horribly disfigured."
"Let me see him," I commanded him. I figured it was something from the birth process that could be grown out of. Then I saw him. He was nestled in a blue blanket held against the chest of a nurse who looked terrified. Frankly, I would have been too. He was a hideous baby. He had a few strings of black hair hanging from the top of his head. His nose was sideways and looked like it was pushed up to far. It was almost half missing. His eyes weren't open yet but they were large, too large for his small head. His skin was wrinkled and almost looked torn in some areas. His left cheek looked as though it was covered in scar tissue. I couldn't believe this was my child.
"Can't you do some sort of reconstructive surgery?" I choked out.
"We can, but we can't when he's so young, and it will cost you a lot of money. " the doctor assured me that as soon as we could we would begin working on him.
I took him home after another night in the hospital. I had already bought the bare necessities for him but they seemed to be all that he would ever need. He just layer there. He was very odd. He would just watch me with his black eyes, intently. I could never figure out what he was searching for. What was almost more unnerving was how he didn't fuss like a normal baby. He never cried. I would have to come check on him to see if he needed a diaper change or offer him a bottle. As much as he was ugly, though, I loved him. I loved him with all my heart and all I wanted was to protect him.
To keep him from being hurt I would hide him under blankets in the carrier when I took him out. If anyone asked to see him I would just claim that he was sick and they would leave it alone. By the time he was a toddler his face had grown even more horrid. He was my little man and we would dance in the kitchen before bed time and read his favorite books before bed time. He loved the Harry Potter books by JK Rowling, and we would read a few chapters a night. But he was getting to big for his carrier and I knew I needed to do something.
I took him in for a check up, this time without hiding him. As soon as we stepped into the waiting room two children ran for their mothers and another three started screaming. Erik stared blankly at them for a moment. Then he began searching around as though it was a spider on the floor that had scared them. I picked him up and pulled hishead toward my chest, so as to hide it yet again. Erik gave me a confused look but he was very obedient and did as I wanted him to.
I breathed a sigh of relief once we had settled into the office. Our pediatrician had grown accustomed to Erik's face and always marveled at his strength for a child his age. It was strange that people's first impression of Erik was always horror. The few who got to know him, however, were drawn into him. It was like he had some bewitching charm attached to him that you just had to get close enough to be captivated by.
Erik's pediatrician swept through the door, looking as dashing as ever, and sat in his chair. "So, Erik has been doing alright?"
"In health, yes, but it's his face. He's too old for me to cover him up and people are giving us strange looks. I don't want him to get hurt. So far he doesn't understand the attention he garners, but that won't last forever," I assured him.
"I have an idea," he mused. "What if we ordered him a mask?"
"I don't think I like that idea. People will still know he's different and stare."
"Think about it, we are still unable to proceed with surgery. There is nothing else to do. He, at this point, could be seen as a public disturbance," he asserted.
I stood up and walked out of that office as quickly as I could. Handsome, or not, my child would not be treated that way.
Later that night, Erik and I were playing on my bed before he had to sleep. I carried him to my dressing table and set him on it, so that he could look at me. While I took out my pins and cleaned my face I would sing for him. I never considered my voice excellent, but he had some strange attachment to it. So, I sang more often than not, for his enjoyment.
Suddenly, my lullaby was shattered my a horrific shriek. Erik had turned around and seen himself. He didn't know what he was looking at. I held him and comforted him, assuring him that the monster was gone.
The next morning, Erik's former pediatrician ordered a mask, not for the sake of society, but for his own sake.
