Chapter Six

Only a Woman

'Why don't you kill me now…if you dare?'

Christine's challenge hung upon the air for a brief terrifying moment. Erik had her by the hair, pulling her head back sharply making Christine expose her throat. Her breath came fast and shallow, and she felt little rivulets of water trickle down from her jaw and inside her nightgown leaving wet trails between her breasts. Her knees were hurting, pressed against the stony ledge. For the space of several heartbeats, Christine feared that Erik might indeed accept her challenge.

But all at once his hands began to quiver with some inexplicable emotion. They loosened their grip on her hair and fell away from her like too leaden weights. Relieved but uncertain, Christine took courage to turn and look at him.

Erik was sitting rigid on the hard ground, his feet tucked under him and his hands hugged closely to his belly. His pale eyes were staring directly at her face, lost and faintly troubled. "Christine?" he whispered uncertainly, his mouth seeming to move on its own. His eyes blinked several times but their perturbed expression did not clear. "Christine…"

Christine stood up, tossing her wet ringlets back from her shoulders. Eyes glimmering with raw energy, she stifled a cough and backed off a little from the confused madman kneeling on the bank. Her knees were trembling.

"Erik, I shan't stay here with you," she boldly declared, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She coughed again. "I can never be your wife. If you don't take me back to the surface I shall be obliged to try for myself. Even if I drown in the attempt it can hardly make any difference." Christine folded her arms tightly across her chest. "At least I would die at my own hand." But the shocked woman was shaking, her teeth chattering with nervous fatigue.

Still Erik had not stirred from his place. He was sitting at the waters' edge, gazing up at Christine with urgent, fearful eyes that glinted softly in the dense gloom. He did not speak. He did not even move.

"Erik?" Christine ventured warily, not at all reassured by this passive horror which seemed to have overwhelmed him. "Shouldn't we go inside now? It's cold out here." It was cold inside Erik's house as well but it had sounded like the correct thing to say. Her mind had frozen. She felt herself slipping back into the old established pleasantries. "Erik," Christine urged again as Erik still remained rigid and silent. "Erik, do get up now." He did not seem to hear her. His eyes went on staring. Unfolding her arms, Christine tried to appear calm. A bitter chill bit her to the bone.

"Let us forget all about this," she suggested softly, earnestly trying to disguise the violent shivering that was racking her body. Her chest and back ached with the effort and her teeth chattered even more persistently. "Come," she said, offering Erik her extended hand in a strange act of kindness. "Let us go back to bed, dearest. We can talk about this in the morning."

Christine saw Erik's gaze shift to the hand she offered. His terrified eyes rested there but a moment. Then his chest began to rise with a few rapid breaths. Looking up, he searched her face again with piercing urgency. Moisture was gathering quickly in his eyes. His mouth fell open to gasp the frigid air. He seemed unable to draw enough breath. His body shook. Christine drew back, clenching her teeth in fear.

Erik started rocking back and forth, swiftly working himself into an agony. "Christine!" he rasped in a breathless whimper. He was clutching his belly, panting loudly. Agonized tears welled up and began to pour down his sunken cheeks. He was not crying however. He was having some kind of horrible seizure. Back and forth he rocked violently, his distress increasing by the second. "Christine! Oh, Christine, help me!"

Christine boldly stood her ground, resisting the urge to flee. She clenched her hands into petrified fists. Erik threw back his head, mouth gaping wide like some tortured soul burning in hell. "Christine!" he wailed in a louder voice, so ugly with fear and despair it horrified her. "Christine, help me! Please, help me!"

"I don't know how to help you," she called over Erik's howling, saying the very first thing that entered her mind. A loud wail of despair, and Erik collapsed in a heap upon the stony ground, clutching his wretched head in his hands. "Tell me what to do!" the frightened girl quickly begged, kneeling in front of him, careful not to get too close to the deranged man. But Erik could not answer. He shook his head wildly, sought her face again with pleading eyes full of tears, and could only gasp out the same desperate words in fearful whisper:

"Help me, oh please, help me!"

There was something in his peering eyes that spoke reassurance to Christine at that moment. Even in the dimness of the cellars she caught the glimmer of something new and unborn dancing in their depths. It was a sort of consciousness that understood higher, brighter things. It was desperately reaching for her. But it was terrified. It was not ready to come forth entirely, not yet. But it was there.

Using every scrap of energy to adopt a calm, self-possessed expression, Christine endeavoured to make her voice soothing and low. "I am not going anywhere, Erik. I am staying here. I will never leave you. You have my word."

Christine held Erik's frantic gaze and watched him closely, her head close to the ground so that they were almost at eye level. Slowly Erik began to settle into an uneasy peace. His glistening eyes blinked, once, and then again. He was now so quiet that Christine could hear the soft dripping sounds that haunted the cellars, and Erik's shallow, ragged breathing that was now reducing to a steady rhythm. She heaved an inward sigh of relief before her fevered mind reminded her that she had by no means returned to safety.

"It's all right," she told her mad companion, feeling comforted herself at the brave sound of her protective voice. "It's all right…I'm here."

Erik sniffed and slowly sat up, his body weak and trembling. Christine mirrored his posture unthinkingly and together they sat facing each other just beyond arm's reach, legs crossed, alone in the dank black cellar. Christine felt the wetness of her hair upon her back.

Erik sniffed again and began tugging at the little hairs on his forearm, looking down. "Christine, I didn't mean to do that to you," he said in a quiet, humble tone. His voice sounded a little rounder somehow, as if the sharpest accents of selfishness and distress which usually flavoured his speech had been smoothed away. But there was still the same profound sadness in it, and the same vague uncertainty.

"I know," Christine answered calmly. She folded her arms across her chest, trying to get warm.

Erik let his hand drop. "Please don't go away," he whispered into his chest. And he began to weep softly. Bending forward, he shielded his face with both hands. Erik's shoulders were shaking but he was clearly doing his utmost to moderate his feelings, something that Christine had never observed in him before. His sobbing was modest and quiet.

Without knowing what she did, Christine drew a little nearer to him.

"Oh, Erik," she spoke softly, letting him weep without laying a hand on him. "You frightened me." Her words elicited a slightly louder sob but Erik managed to govern his feelings. He merely went on crying in that low sorrowful way. The manliness of it touched Christine's heart. "Hush now," she murmured, tentatively reaching for him with outstretched arm. Her fingertips lightly trailed over the straggly hair at his temple. "Hush now."

Her gentleness coaxed him out from behind his fingers. Timidly he sought her eyes with his mournful yellow orbs.

"Do you love your Erik, Christine?" he asked humbly. Normally his odd way of speaking of himself in the third person would have disturbed her. But there was something unusual about his tone of voice this time, something so very rational, as if it were understood that 'Erik' truly was a different person, a person he had given to Christine to love.

Like a dog.

Christine sidled closer to her husband and after a little hesitation, held open her arms to receive him. Bowing his head, he let her take him to her bosom where she held him gently. "I love you, Christine," his muffled voice came to her as she ran her hand smoothly over his naked back. He was completely naked as he had been when he had quitted the bed and his flesh was icy cold.

"Oh Erik," Christine murmured in a weary, heartsick tone. "You love me too much. I'm only a woman."

Erik drew back, lifted his face to regard her careworn features and stared at her quizzically. Christine blinked in consternation. He was seemingly mesmerized by her face. She waited, wanting to know what Erik would do next and half afraid to find out. And then, slowly, he brought his hideous deformity closer to her until he was near enough to touch her with his lips. Christine remained frozen in place. And Erik kissed her, clumsily, like a raw boy kissing his sweetheart for the first time. Christine responded only minutely. The moment she did so, Erik withdrew, staring at her still in silent wonder. It was very strange. He then lifted a hand very cautiously and gently cupped her cheek. His long tapered fingers pressed lightly on her skin.

"But you don't run from me," he said, apparently answering the last words she had spoken. There was shy bewilderment in his voice.

Erik dipped his head and rested his forehead against his young bride's chin. Christine found herself softly stroking his bedraggled wisps of hair. Her mind felt passive though not altogether peaceful. Perhaps she was only tired. Christine did not want to think any more.

"Erik, I'm cold," she told him, quietly pushing him back from her so that she could speak. "I think we should go back to bed."

He looked up at her and nodded softly. Then he stood up and offered her his hands. Christine took them and stood up beside him. Her nightgown shimmered ghostly white in the deathly darkness. Erik's flesh was of almost the same hue. Together they re-entered the house on the lake and climbed back into their marriage bed to sleep as best they could until morning, if indeed morning had not already come. They lay together, loosely embracing. And the room felt sedate and warm.

A/N: Ok, I think I've burnt out the imagination on this one...at least for now. Have a few drinks for me! ;)GR