DISCLAIMER: Please refer to Chapter Two
She tried to lift her body upright. Slowly, she managed to lean against the headboard and position her body so that she was able to balance. She could feel her headache very clearly now. She realized that she almost died. The last thing she could remember was falling from the balcony.
As she peered across the room, she wondered if she was still dreaming. Everything was so beautiful. Although clearly one could tell it was decorated for a woman, the entirety of the room appeared to have masculine qualities. The furniture was thick and strong. The mirrors were grand in stature. Certainly the man who decorated this room must have put a lot of pride into it. She became enamored with the quaint cherubs echoed in the paintings and the upholstery. Even the headboard had carvings of these little angels in it.
The room itself was, however, rather cold. Although the fine fabrics and audacious colors seemed to denote a sense of warmth, Cecilia quickly realized that her teeth had begun to chatter. Using her good hand, she pulled the thick satin blanket up to her torso recognizing that she barely had any clothes on!
Stunned and feeling somewhat violated, she eyed the room in search of what was left of her dignity. A woman of her stature could not possibly be this undressed in such a strange place.
She shifted her body weight allowing her legs to dangle from the bedside. She then attempted to apply pressure on her aching legs. All the while, she became aware of faint mournful music playing outside her bedroom door. Its rich, melancholy tone made her want to weep. Her thoughts of Fredrick seemed to flood back. It was as though the instrument was playing from her scarred heart.
You must lift yourself up now, Cecilia. You need to find your dress.
As she lifted her swollen body, her knees collapsed under her sending her plummeting to the stone floor.
Erik, upon hearing a rather serious crash coming from Christine's room, immediately halted his playing and rushed into the bedchamber.
Upon opening the door, he heard faint groans from the pretty blond woman coming from the opposite side of the bed. Realizing she must have fallen, he swung past the bureau to see if she was alright.
"Mademoiselle, what are you doing?" he said coldly.
"Monsieur, what does it look like I am doing, taking a bath?" she sternly replied.
"You really must get back into bed. You are in no condition to be walking around."
"I kind of realized this Monsieur once I landed," she said with her face still lying square on the stone floor, "do you think there is anyway I can trouble you to… to help me."
He walked behind her back and lifted her bruised body into his arms. Her face had become swollen now. She almost did not resemble the pretty blond he had brought in just hours ago.
Her body went limp once she looked into his striking green eyes. Her usually talkative mouth suddenly went completely speechless. Even though half of his face was covered with a porcelain white mask, the exposed side seemed to be rather pleasing to the eye. His dark brown hair was in perfect position. Not one hair out of place. From what she could see in the midst of the candlelight, his rather full soft lips seemed rather tempting.
She haughtily wondered what the rest of him looked like. Cecilia! You naughty girl! You do not even know this man. What could she say? She did always have impeccable taste in men. Whether or not they were brutes or selfish bastards was another story.
She fought to get herself to look away from those green eyes.
As he lain her on the bed once more, she uttered a groan of pain as her back touched the sheets.
"Are you alright?" he asked, "Are you in a lot of pain?"
She did not want to seem weak to him. That is exactly what a man would want from her. However, she felt like she had been run over by a carriage and barely survived to tell the tale.
"No, no. I am quite alright." she replied grimacing once more.
"No, you aren't. Hold on." he stammered as he reached for the pain subsiding herbs sitting on the bedside table. "Here, drink this," he said as he pressed the little flask up to her pouty swollen lips.
Realizing that she was far too weak to fuss with him, she swallowed her pride and the mysterious potion. If he was going to kill me, he would have done it by now.
She gazed back into his green eyes and began to have a flashback. It is Don Juan! The new tenor of the opera is standing in front of me. Why is he still in costume?
"Merci, Monsiour. May I ask you something?" she asked.
"That depends, Mademoiselle. I must warn you know. I do not take kindly to prodders."
"I assure you I am not prodding, Monsieur. I just wanted to know how I came to be here? I mean, you are the Opera Populaire's new tenor. How is it I came to be with you here?"
She thinks I am a member of the opera? Interesting. Maybe she has not heard about the infamous Phantom of the Opera.
He let out a low chuckle. "I assure you, Mademoiselle, I am not the opera's new tenor."
"Please, call me Cecilia. If you are not the tenor, then you are you. I must say you bear a striking resemblance to him. You are even wearing the same costume he wore on stage."
"Well, Cecilia." He paused. "I was the man on the stage, but I regret to inform you that I am not an employee of such establishment. I am your most humble Phantom of the Opera."
It was her turn to laugh. "You must be joking! The Phantom is a ghost, and you are a man. He is said to have the face of death, and I am well aware that you do not possess such a face."
How could she be so sure I do not have the face of death. Did she not see Christine unmask me on stage last night?
"Well then, if you do not believe me, I shall leave you to your thoughts," he said, acting quite offended.
As he rose from her bedside, she reached out her good arm and grabbed his wrist.
"No, please Monsieur Phantom, so stay. I promise I will not laugh at you again. You must admit though, it is hard for one to believe that a man such as you could be this horrible monstrosity that the whole of Paris is talking about."
"Mademoiselle, you know nothing of what you speak of."
"Please call me Cecilia, and what do you mean I do not know what I speak of?"
"That is enough talk out of you for tonight," he said with a serious tone, "you must get some rest if you are to even think about getting out of bed. I will go and fetch something to take the swelling down from your formerly pretty face."
Swelling? Formerly pretty face. What is he talking about?
"Monsier Phantom, please hand me that silver mirror from the vanity."
"No, Cecilia. You do not want to see your face right now."
"Please hand it to me," she said sternly with an elevated voice.
Knowing that the last thing in the world he wanted to do at the moment was argue with a woman, he reached over to the vanity and collected the petite silver hand mirror. Upon placing it in Cecilia's hands, he saw her pretty blue eyes welling up with tears.
Look at my face! I am a monster!
Erik could see the pain in her eyes as she held tightly to the mirror. He saw her trace her broken lips and purple cheek bones with her small trembling hand. Understanding her pain, he snatched the mirror from her hands.
"That is enough excitement for one night. You really must rest."
"How am I supposed to rest when I have no idea where I am, and I am with a man who says he is the Phantom of the Opera? My face is the color of one of my most favorite purple dresses, I can only use one of my hands, and all the while I am freezing in this room!"
"Cecilia…" he calmly replied to her as he lit a fire in the fireplace just beyond her bed, "I assure you, I will not hurt you. You are a guest in my home. Where exactly my home is, is another conversation for another day. Your face, although rather purple as you say, is admittedly one of the most beautiful faces I have ever seen." (He had to lie, what else was he to do?)
He could see her blush through her tears.
"Now, I have a fire going for you, so it is bound to get warmer in here soon. Until then, please get some rest. The last thing I want is having a woman's death on my hands."
"Monsieur, Phantom. Who are you?"
"My name is Erik, and that is all you need to know for now. Bonne Nuit" he said as he walked out her bedroom door shutting it softly behind him.
What an odd man.
As the room began to warm, she felt her eyes growing heavier until she dozed off into a deep sleep.