There is no more terrifying sound than silence. One waits for it to break, and one waits, and one waits, and normally it obliges. But not for me.
The dripping that I had heard sometimes seemed to have shut off. There was no breeze whistling through the tunnel, though it was still far colder than in my room, and I had to bury my hands in my skirts to keep them warm.
At first I feared rats. I feared a logical thing that could likely frighten me. Then I feared Erik, which was also logical. He could come rage at me and lock me away for disobeying. Oh, but then I felt myself going mad as my imagination formed demons in the darkness! The inky air twisted into faces with lopsided grins and gruesome features, dancing about me in gleeful torment.
I told myself I was safe; I lied to myself that nothing would come hurt me. But I had seen enough of my captor to know he held terrible secrets down there. For all I knew, there were actually demons. This was hell.
As I wrestled with my cruel mind, trying to convince myself that there was nothing there, I felt there was someone, something, watching me. Hoping and fearing that it was my captor, I called out for him multiple times, but he never answered. I thought he must be watching, then, entertained by my helplessness, and I began to sob in despair at this.
My angel...
My eyes had only become accustomed enough that I could see my freezing hands once I held them to my face. Other than that, there was nothing. The silence and solitude filled my heart until it was unbearable, until I wanted to ram my head against the walls just to make a sound.
That was when I remembered my voice. How could I have forgotten my voice? My songs? I could calm myself. I had been afraid to sing before, perhaps thinking the demons would be drawn to it, but now I embraced my gift. Perhaps it would repel my fears, not bring them closer in the knowledge that I was there.
I freed myself from the silence with every soft Swedish lullaby and happy opera tune I could remember. They comforted me enough that I stopped trembling, but then I heard a noise beside me. A scuttling of little feet-
I screamed, and the poor creature, mouse or rat, pitter-pattered away in equal fright as my own. I concentrated on breathing: in, out, in, out... in out in out in-
"Oh, no," I exhaled, horrified.
In my terror, I had neglected to stay near the wall, and now I had no idea where the door was! I put my head in my hands for a moment, then reached out in front of myself, and I walked forward... and walked forward...
And I kept walking. Bewildered, I tried to find a wall beside me, but they evaded me. At last I rested my hands against one, but it was riddled with holes, so I quickly recoiled for fear of some other vermin.
I continued, half-dazed by fright, humming to myself to help, though it did little. I had one arm wrapped about myself, one outstretched, and I took step after cautious step. The darkness was opaque here. I heard another scuffling of little feet, and I screamed from fright, darting away from the noise. One foot found an empty abyss, and I cried out as I tumbled inside, my hands trying to grasp the black air.
I landed on my leg, and it twisted beneath me unnaturally with a snap! that echoed off the stone walls. Sobbing in agony, for I had never broken any bones before, I suddenly heard a metallic noise, like gears and chains. Blinking in the darkness, I wondered what terrible machine was after me, what trap I had fallen into, and I almost wished I had landed on my head and died.
My leg lay behind me, and I flattened myself on the stone floor, then I realized that the metallic sound was of a ceiling covered in spikes, lowering. The darkness was more translucent here, it seemed, and I shrieked in seeing it, then noticed that some of the long, thin spears were broken off, as if someone had been trapped and-
Avoiding my nausea and the black spots dissolving my vision, I slid toward these on my back, crying out in pain. The spears lowered slowly as I found my way into the spot with broken ends, but my twisted leg, which felt as if aflame, I neglected. The steel tips hit the floor, and one of the broken ends grazed my cheek..
My vision grew dark, and I fainted away from pain and terror.
You're alive, you're alive.
Shh, drink this.
I'm just putting on new bandages.
Christine? Christine, it's only me.
Have you left me now?
Shh, listen, isn't that lovely?
My little Christine, my poor Christine...
Take another sip, just one more.
Dont sit up, take this.
Are you any better?
Have you gone mad now?
No, no, there's no angel. Only me.
Your father is not here, child. Only me.
There is no Raoul. I'm here.
Just sleep some more, a little longer.
I opened my eyes and found myself in a room from my nightmares, the one I had slept in after being taken down there the first time. Then I stared, stunned, at my leg, which was thoroughly bandaged and in a splint, propped up on a short pile of pillows. It throbbed dully, and as I tried to sit up, a searing pain ran up it, causing me to cry out.
My captor came in with a cup of some sort of liquid, and I shoved this away as he tried to tip it to my lips.
"What's- what's-?" I stammered.
"Does it hurt still?" he asked, his voice pained as the uncovered half of his face.
I winced and nodded, sobbing, "It's broken-"
"It'll mend... Drink this, my dear, it will make you sleep."
"I'm hungry," I whined.
"Of course, of course," he said, rushing off.
How long had a been unconscious? A few hours? But it didn't seem to hurt terribly enough for it to have only been a few hours... And I could remember bits and pieces...
He returned with some bread and cheese and a bowl of soup.
"How long have I been unconscious?" I asked, wincing as he propped me upright with pillows.
The unmasked part of his face was glistening with tears, though he did not acknowledge them.
He croaked out, "Three days... You woke up sometimes, but I had you..." he took a breath to keep his voice from fracturing, "drugged, and you kept raving mad about... The pain made you delirious, and the shock of your ordeal."
"It hurts..." I whimpered, not referring merely to my leg.
"I know, I know. I have broken many myself... Eat a little, then you can sleep."
I tipped the bowl to my lips. It was rather salty, but I was too hungry to care. Before I could start on the bread, I felt myself slipping away.
He must have put something in the soup.
When I woke up again, he fed and drugged me anew, and this continued for days. I was disorientated by it, unaware what time it was, what day, the world spinning around me. Sometimes I asked for him to stop, lied that my leg didn't hurt so much, but he never believed me. When I was not asleep, I was delirious from whatever he was giving me, and this made me more tractable, as he could pick me up if needed and not have to listen to my protests. He did attempt to preserve my modesty, to my surprise, but I did wake up in a nightgown, for comfort, and could remember having him assist me delicately and respectfully, turning away and such, even though there was not much of a point in it.
At last he decided that I was well enough to remain awake, perhaps after examining my leg while I slept.
"How long until it heals?" I asked, relieved to be fully conscious.
"It depends," he said gently. "I would assume three months, but you fell directly onto it. It was broken only in one place, but you needn't concern yourself with the details, I'll care for you."
"Why?" I asked, my voice soft. "Why did you set that up? How could you make such a thing?"
He stiffened, then sat down in a chair, burying his head in his hands for a moment. He glanced back up at me, his features twisted in agony.
"Can you imagine the position that I'm in?" he demanded. "Down here is all I have. It is my right to protect myself, but damn me for it... Do you know what it is to love you and be despised in return? And then to take you down here, and have you disobey and nearly kill yourself..." His face turned white as his mask. "I thought you were dead! When I saw the candle in the hallway I knew you had gotten out, and I hoped that you had somehow avoided my traps, I prayed, Christine! I prayed even though I knew no one was listening, that's how desperate I was! And as I searched and searched, then saw the chains hanging low as I turned a corner, realized where you were... I saw you under there, and I brought up the trap, devoid of all hope, for you were a shattered mess, even in the dark I could see the blood." He winced. "I was going to kill myself then and there. The same way, too, for that was fitting! I had already motioned to set it off again, end this wretched existence, then I realized you were breathing, very shallow breaths, and I carried you up here, set your leg, drugged you when you woke... You don't remember that?"
"No... no, not really."
"At least there's that..." he sighed, then his voice became taut again. "It was hell. I thought I had already lived through hell. How wrong I was... But you're better now. You'll be fine. When you're fully healed, I'll take you away to somewhere far better than here."
My lips parted in horror. "Somewhere? Not home?"
"I cannot send you back now," he said, as if it were a simple fact I ought to know. "I love you. I haven't said it before to you, I don't believe, not properly... I love you."
I glanced down at my leg, biting my lip. His face turned ashen.
"You won't forgive me, then?" he asked.
"I shouldn't..."
"A good Christian girl you are-"
"Don't you dare mention my faith!" I snapped, my voice wavering nonetheless. "You take me down here, belittle me, keep me in a cell, don't take precautions against simple fear and curiosity, and now you make fun of me? Make fun of the religion you tore up and twisted to fit your own interests?..." I was barely containing my tears. "I didn't yell at you before because I was afraid, but I'm not afraid of you now! Not a bit! Y-you don't frighten me anymore, because I can say anything and you can't do a-anything about it, can you?... Can you! You made a mistake to cry in front of me, and you can't afford mistakes! Not with me. Not with your little doll you've fed music to and now expect to sing at your bidding. That's all I am isn't it? Just a pretty instrument to you? Well, I won't be anymore! I won't sing for you, I won't be good, I won't obey, I won't! Because you can't make me and... and... I won't."
"Perhaps," he said, emotionless. "I cannot make you obey me now. The only means would be to deprive you of care... But you cannot walk. You neglected to mention that."
"I do many things without walking."
"You're helpless right now, you know. You're very brave to be saying such things in front of me."
"You confessed your love... You wouldn't hurt me now, not with my injury."
His eyes softened. "I wouldn't hurt you before."
"There are many types of hurt."
He did not appear affected by this statement. Instead he said to me, with raw earnestness, the first I had heard from him:
"What do you want, Christine? There must be something you want that includes me, isn't there? I was your world before."
"I thought you were an angel. You deceived me."
"You want an apology, then?" he demanded irritably. "You want me to beg forgiveness for caring for you? Loving you?"
"How was that love? You've taken away my freedom and my love."
"You betrayed me."
"Betrayed you?" I said, disgusted. "After you killed a man and lied to me?"
"We've discussed this-"
"No we have not," I said in tired exasperation. "You've spoken down to me like I'm a child. That's what we've done. We haven't discussed; you have told me. I'm twenty-one years old, not a child."
"You are very much a child. Your words are those of a child, betrayal and deception, when you cannot comprehend why I have done those both. I admit to deceiving you, for a purpose: developing your voice into an instrument to make angels weep."
"Then I am nothing more than an instrument to you, like a violin or piano, am I? Something to be tuned and played, then shut away..." My chin quivered. "Is that not what you want to do with me?"
"So that is what you want?" he said quietly, avoiding my gaze. "You want to know what I want to do with you?"
I swallowed. "Yes... T-that's what I want."
He rose and began to slowly pace as he spoke. His voice, when he began, was tender and soft, remarkably so.
"I want to take you far away from here," he said. "I acquired a secluded house near Bordeaux, close enough to a town and yet far enough away to be distant... I wish I could take you to Sweden, or to some wealthy estate, but I know that you are not prideful, so you would prefer a simple home. You want small luxuries, luxuries many would consider necessities, and I can give you all of those, anything your frugal heart wants. And I can offer you music, music no one else can or will give you... You have not even heard everything, barely scratched the surface of your craft. I can show you so much that you long for, though you deny your longing... I've never been allowed to love a woman, because of my hideousness, but you can manage to at least find me tolerable, can't you?... Just let me take you away from here when you're better, and we can spend the rest of our lives with music? What better life could there be?"
"You..." I averted my eyes. "You want to marry me, then?"
"Yes... formally."
"But... no children?"
His half-masked face twitched into bitterness, "Children? What a ridiculous notion, children with this?... You'll have your own perfect little room, and a house to keep, and if you want pets or books, anything at all, I can give them to you. I'm wealthy, as it stands."
"So you will not...?"
"No. I will not... But I request you would at least say it fully to me, taste the words. What won't I do?"
I folded my lips firmly.
"Ah, so you are going to follow through with your disobedience..." he said sadly. "But you are dependent upon me down here, in your state, more than before. Of course, I have confessed my love, so you know I won't bring you harm... What is there left for me to do, then? Save keep tending to you and hope that you will one day agree to marry me?"
"You don't need my agreement."
"But I would prefer it... Oh, Christine, why doesn't that appeal to you? Running away and spending the rest of your days with music? You are music... And you've always been an outcast here, even now, when you sing like an angel, people still treat you differently, cruel as they are. They cannot understand you properly, no one can, except me. And I hope even I have not unlocked all your secrets yet."
"I'm not a safe."
He ignored me. "Of everyone you know, who understands your soul as I do? The one you gave your soul to?"
"Raoul," I retorted softly, trembling nonetheless.
His half-masked features darkened, and his voice came out cool and crisp, "The vicomte understands a little girl from Sweden. I have learned about you now. And you insist on being treated like a mature woman... And can you live any life at all without music?"
"He can play."
He laughed, "Play what? Play the games of gentlemen? Don't you know what he's been up to in your absence-?"
"Stop, stop, I know you're lying."
"Perhaps... but do you truly know?"
"He plays the piano," I said, trying to further my stance.
"Can he play it like I can? I don't play instruments, my dear, play is such a childish word, don't you agree? I make music. The vicomte can play notes, rhythms, perhaps, but never music. I doubt many save you and I can make music, true music."
"But he's not a murderer."
"Buquet again? We've discussed this; it was an accident."
"Why do you still lie?"
"It's not a lie... You are young, not a child, I admit, but young, and your life would be over in a heartbeat if you had gone away to live with the vicomte. Can you imagine it? You're a chorus girl, not a countess or the like. No one would respect you. You would have no friends, no family, only your husband. And you would have to depend on his love for you, his friendship, and if that ran out you would have nothing. Well, a divorce paper perhaps, and a baby, but nothing more... Does that sound preferable to you as opposed to my offer?"
"He wouldn't abandon me."
"You don't know that."
"I'd rather be abandoned and free than a prisoner."
"I want a wife," he told me firmly, "not a prisoner."
"You wouldn't let me out of the house."
"Of course you could go outside the house!" he exclaimed. "Does my appearance make me seem such a monster as to shut you away for eternity?... I've been down here so long, all alone, and I can't bear another minute of it! So you are correct, I can make you marry me, when you're healed, and shut you away if I so desired. I could do whatever I wanted with you, I can do whatever I want with you... But the only thing I desire is your company, and your music. Give me those, and I'll give you everything."
"Will you give me promises?"
"You wouldn't trust my promises."
"No... I wouldn't."
He sighed, rising. "I've had enough of this misery. You should rest some more, think over all I've said... Do you require anything?"
I shook my head, already pensive. He reached out for me, but removed his hand before I could flinch.
"I'll be back soon," he told me as he turned to leave. "I need to check something."
He did not close the door behind himself, and I wanted to be brave and accept that, but my childish fears bested me yet again.
"Angel, wait," I asked.
"Erik. You named me Erik... What is it?"
"Would you close the door?"
"Why?"
"Because I want it closed."
"As good an explanation as any."
The door shut behind him, and I exhaled shakily. My vision promptly blurred with tears.
I couldn't escape now. I could never escape. He would take me away at the end of three months and keep me with him for the rest of my life. He would never let me go, never leave me.
I didn't believe his promises, nor a word he spoke. I didn't even believe that he loved me, only that he had developed an unhealthy obsession with me, as I had perhaps been the only person to give him a kind word. The only person...