I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Please check out Love Never Dies, my other phic. Oh, and if you like this you might also like The Phantom and the Moppit by Deadtom77. Also, check out KyrieofAccender for some awesome phanfictions such as "Second Chance" and "Love the Stars". On with the story!
Lovest Always, Lady Merridell
July 2, 1864
Chapter 2
Sometimes it is in the Sky
The scream ripped through the once peaceful evening air and caused Erik to whip around and race up the hill. Not caring that he was intruding, he threw open the front door to the dingy shack so violently the hinges shrieked and a few snapped.
"Christine!" he cried.
He followed the sound of sobbing into the kitchen where, on the floor apparently unconscious, was a rather frail and haggard old man. Beside him knelt the poor young child sobbing her heart out for her dear father.
Erik realized the old man had passed on. He stood nearby awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
"Child why do you cry? Tell me all angel," he whispered softly, kneeling beside her.
She looked up at him, her beautiful emerald eyes sparkling with tears.
"I-I don't kn-know. H-he collapsed and t-told me h-how much he loved me and f-fainted," she wailed.
Erik stared at the pale corpse. His face was thin and sickly, sandy brown hair thinning no doubt because of illness and the stress of providing for a child when they had so little. He did, however, posses little wrinkles around his eyes as though he smiled often and had a kind face that reminded him very much of Christine's own innocence.
"Are you the Angel of Music? Father promised he'd send you," she asked suddenly.
Angel? Erik felt surprise press down even harder, but remained emotionless. Monster? Yes. Freak? Yes. Horrid, wicked, cursed Devil's child? Most commonly, but angel? Never had he been associated with anything as pure and beautiful as an angel. An Angel of Music.
"Erik? Angel?" she whimpered.
Erik suddenly snapped to attention. This child needed him. She needed to be cared for. Food, water, shelter...could he do that? Actually care for a child? Money was no trouble, but what about this small creature? Erik had no experience whatsoever with children. What if he broke her? She seemed so delicate.
"Yes, Christine?" he breathed.
"Is papa in heaven? With mama? Will he be okay without me?"
"He will cope, I'm sure."
Christine gave a shuddery sigh and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Erik jumped as shockwaves streaked throughout his being. Christine herself seemed surprised and jerked away. They starred at each other for a few moments until the young angel turned back to her father and kissed his forehead.
"I'll miss you, papa," she whispered. "Sleep well with mama."
…
Erik sighed and stoked the fire. He collapsed into his favorite high-backed, red velvet baroque styled chair. He gazed intently into the flames. The house was completely silent, save for the crackling and popping from the fire. Down the narrow hallway sleeping soundly in the guest room was the mourning youth, who had cried herself to sleep.
After a few moments of tense silence at the cottage, Erik had decided it was best to take the child home. However she had refused to leave her father lying dead upon the floor. Erik refused to bring a possibly diseased body into his home, so he compromised and set the corpse onto Christine's old bed, which provided much more comfort than its-his-own.
He blinked. Usually he referred to dead bodies as an 'it', preferring not to say or think 'he'. It made the death much too personal and real. No, it was always best to refer to the corpse as an 'it' with no name. No history. No family. No name. Just another dead body to add to the millions of others he murdered...innocent lives.. all for the entertainment of the Kha-he shook his head. No, he thought, I refuse to return to those days.
With a soft sigh, he stood and stretched. He glanced out the window at the evening stars. Tomorrow he would begin plans for a simple funeral. it was the least he could do for Christine and her deceased father.
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