Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. He is Gaston Leroux's. I am just borrowing him to give him some of the happiness of human life he never had the chance to experience.
Lost In The Darkness Chapter Two – Dream and RealityA huge staircase winded up towards the first storey where Comte François de Pernier-Mariotte had sent for her. She had already served him quite often and always had uneasiness accompanied her doings. Her master possessed something she could not put her finger on causing this feeling. Yet she had not dared to speak to anyone about it. What would the other women say about her, a young maid in her first good situation? The Comte was a highly regarded gentleman in Paris' upper society. She tried to blame everything on nervousness – with more or less success.
But as she went up the steps this time a strong knot had formed in her stomach. Precognition? What could wait for her in the man's room?
Arriving at the door, she took a deep breath to calm herself, smoothed her apron once again and then knocked decently three times as she had been told.
It took a moment or two before an answer came. "Enter!"
The brassy doorknob was cold whenever a hand touched it. However, the maid did not feel it for her hands were as if of ice. "I bid you good evening, Sir." She said as soon as she had passed the threshold, closing the door behind her. The Comte was nowhere to be seen.
"Come over here!" He ordered from the neighbouring room serving as a wardrobe for the vast amount of shirts, trousers and other cloths. He did not turn as she approached but stood rather forlorn before a row of tailcoats. "Where's the black one?"
"Sir?" There were at least then different black tailcoats just before him.
"The new one so perfectly suiting with the shirt with the frills" He explained impatiently.
"Let me see." She made her way over and took position between the Comte and his clothing. Such problems she would like to have! Her only changing was a robe reserved for Sundays.
As she looked through the tails the maid suddenly felt a breath casting upon her skin that made her shudder. Her master had placed himself hardly an inch behind her. She was growing uncomfortable but tried to ignore it and instead continued searching.
Something crushed down without any warning. Utterly startled the maid turned her head. There should be no-one in the other room.
"What's wrong?" Her master asked, almost whispering in her ear.
"I think I heard a crash." She replied truthfully.
"You must be erring. I heard nothing."
The girl resumed her task. But there was another smash and this time she realized that it did not come from next door but from somewhere outside her consciousness.
Curse you! The organist always praised himself of being silent like his Siamese chat Ayesha. Yet he knocked over a chair first and then something on the table beside the bed he could not quite identify while retreating from the circle illuminated by the candelabrum back into the shadows. He had finally able to re-enter the bedroom where his medical challenge waited for him.
The young woman in the bed opened her eyes slowly. Darkness surrounded her, at least as long as her eyes adapted to the light of one single candle. Perplexed she starred into the blackness not knowing what was reality and what dream. Seconds ago she had been in the Comte's manor and now?
The question of her dwelling became secondary when a several rushes of shivering ran through her body. She was terribly cold and in consequence hugged herself instinctively to meet with pure skin. Where was her dressing? Panic settled upon her. She could not remember a single event from the time she had dreamed of onwards. What had happened that she found herself in an unknown bed in an ill-lit room and above without any recollections? Clinging to the blankets as if they were her only connection to sanity her teeth began clattering and tears filled her eyes.
"I'm not the least surprised that you feel still cold. You were almost frozen to death." Out of the shadows enveloping most of the room a velvety voice arose.
The girl exclaimed an utterly startled cry and sat up, pulling the blankets with her. In doing so a terrible pain exploded in her waist making her fall back into the cushions instantly. She could not suppress another cry. "Ah!"
Through the veil of dizziness due to the breathtaking aching she noticed a figure emerging from an utterly dark corner. Apart from a white mask with little yellow eyes behind it was clad entirely in black. It may have frightened her to death if she had met that… ghost in the streets. But now the girl was too weak to feel such a thing, let alone asking who he was.
Like frozen in time she did not protest or move as white-gloved hands appeared from under the black cloak and pulled away the sheets to reveal one of her sides nevertheless leaving enough to cover her bosom. Following the white mask's gaze she tilted her head down to her waist. There was a great red river running down her body and absorbed by the bed, thereby creating a constantly growing red lake.
"You have been shot." The voice stated coldly, neither surprised nor pitying. He knew the appearance of wounds resulting from pistol fire very well what enabled him of a diagnosis without further examination in short time. Just why had he not seen it as he removed her cloths? Maybe the icy water had cleaned and closed the wound and therefore he did not have any chance to distinguish it from the rest of the white skin. Well, that might be a likely explanation.
Clouded dark eyes fixed his ones, first seeming not to understand what he said. "I… I can't remember." A frail voice replied not knowing what else to say.
After removing one of the gloves the figure slightly pressed the flesh around the hole causing the exit of another stream of blood. Though the touch of the long bony fingers was gently the girl could not help but whine.
"The bullet must be removed instantly. In your current state of health you would not survive an infection." For the blink of an eye he seemed uncertain but then said: "Press your hand against the injury while I'll fetch everything necessary." The intonation clearly showed that he would not tolerate any objections.
She followed his order and the warm red liquid covered her hand at once. Slowly her mind became clear again. Whatever had occurred leaving her not only frozen but also shot in the care of this… she still could not name it or him. This was reality – and she had to face it. "Monsieur…"
The black figure turned back on its way towards the door.
Surrender to your fate. Her father's saying came to her mind. How often had those words meant harm to her! Now there was the prospect of hope in them. Maybe this figure could save her life. "Thank you."
"You'll regret those words as soon as I have begun."
She did not doubt it.
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