Erik switched his radio on and his favorite station immediately sprang to life. He sighed with joy as Turandot played and he began shedding his coat. He had not wanted to eavesdrop on Christine, but it was difficult as their conversation had been the only sound in the entire store.
He remembered with a smile how she had wished not to cause her friend any pain. Erik knew her friend was clearly at fault, but she had the heart to wish him well despite that. She truly had a lovely spirit.
Erik was having an especially good day since he had been able to talk to her. He was satisfied with his ability to help her feel better and hoped she would talk with him more often now.
Erik walked over to one of his couches and sat down to listen to the opera. He carefully removed his mask and breathed deeply. The mask was not uncomfortable, but it gave him a claustrophobic feeling after a while.
He placed it gently onto the side table and leaned his head to rest it on the back of the couch. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he bagan dozing off. He sat back up and rubbed his face to wake himself back up. If he slept now, he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.
He walked over to the radio and turned it off just as Turandot began asking her final riddle. He then sat at the piano and began playing. He was just playing random notes at first, making an unusual, but still pleasant sound. He eventually fell into a familiar melody and his hands skipped over the keys, each finding their places from memory and he smiled at the sound.
As he played, he thought about what had happened so far in his day and remembered how Christine had sounded when her friend had come to the store. She had been so happy to see him. Erik felt selfish for wanting her to someday be that excited to see him.
He had only known the girl for a few days and he was already imagining them being that close someday. He needed to stop.
Erik cringed as he missed a note and he set his hands on the keys, letting the cacophony of noise fill his ears. He lifted his hands and let the sound die.
She was being a distraction to him.
What was wrong with him? He had never let anything distract him before and now, out of the blue, a girl shows up and he's all clumsiness and a fool.
Erik took a breath and began the piece again. He wanted to finish it well before taking a break.
As he played, re noticed his own apathy in his work. He could hear the difference now that he was playing it deliberately instead of simply because he had begun it. There was no soul in the music anymore and he frowned at himself.
Erik stood after completing the piece and walked to his kitchen. He began fixing himself some tea and a bit of bread with butter.
He sat back down on the couch with his food and with the radio turned on again. He ate slowly as he listened to the remaining part of the opera.
Erik was playing with his puppy in the yard as his mother watched them. He tossed a stick and waited for her to bound up and lick his hand to let him know she was back. He would pet her and praise her before hurling the stick again. He was grinning widely and could smell freshly cut grass.
He heard the chair on the front porch creak as his mother got up.
"Erik, time to come in," she called softly.
Erik nodded and wrapped his hand to the inside of Sasha's collar as she began to lead him inside. Erik removed his mask. He hated wearing it. It hurt his face and made him feel like he couldn't breathe.
He heard his mother's sharp intake of breath when she turned toward him.
"Erik, put your mask back on," she said sternly.
"But mother," Erik tried weakly, "No one will see me inside. I don't like the mask. Please don't make me wear it inside."
Despite his pleas, he felt the mask being placed firmly back on his face. Tears filled his eyes. He felt a slight pang of sadness that his stupid self wasn't even hindered by the tears blurring his vision.
"Mother," he whimpered one last time.
The sound of a thousand voices responded in unison.
"You dare to disobey?" the legion of voices asked calmly, "after all you've done?"
Erik began to panic. He snapped his fingers for Sasha to come back to him. She didn't come.
"I-I didn't do anything," he said shakily.
"You make your own mother live in exile," the voice said with growing volume, "it would have been better had you died at birth."
Tears were streaming freely down his face now and he gave up talking to the voices.
He collapsed to the floor and began to call for Sasha. She didn't come or respond as she always did. He crawled around, feeling for her as he called.
The voices pelted him with more and more anger in the multitude of harsh voices. He could identify the voices of every person he had ever met.
His mother, the pastor, his tutor, the village boys he had heard outside his window once, every person who had ever rejected him. Everyone he had ever struck with fear.
"Sasha, Sasha, Sasha" he choked and sobbed. He came to the table she loved to sleep under. He swept his hands over the floor in search of his only friend.
He froze when he felt her soft fur. She was unmoving and cold.
He regained movement and swept her up in his arms. He could feel a thick, sticky substance in her fur. It was covering his hands and it seeped into his clothes.
His breath left him completely. Sasha was limp in his arms and he buried his head in her fur and cried.
"You don't deserve love," said the voices, "You are the one to blame for this death. You were careless. You will never be able to be loved."
Erik screamed in agony.
He sat bolt upright in bed. His entire body was cold.
He pressed his shaking hands together to calm them. He turned and clumsily fumbled to turn his radio on. It sprang to life and a piece of Mozart played calmly into the room.
Erik pulled his knees up to his chest and began choking with sobs.