Ch. 8
Hidden by the dense thicket of green foliage, Erik watched her, only a few yards away, as she tied a knot in the rope. He heard the soft breath of air that had escaped her rosy-colored lips and saw the pained expression on her face as she held the noose in her hands, as if still undecided about her decision. The sadness in her eyes sent chills down his spine as he was reminded of the time when he had felt the same way.
There were a few occurences in his lifetime when he felt that ending his life was the solution to his problems; the easiest way to handle the injustices that he had faced. He could easily admit to himself that the night Christine had left with the young Vicomte permanently had been one of the darkest moments in his life. It took weeks for him to play any sort of music again, and months to put the notes to paper.
If anything, he had learned that his experiences at the Opera Populaire had taught him valuable lessons; that, while he had accepted his fate and would forever remain alone, it had renewed his passion for music and invigorated his desire to compose.
No matter what happened to him, he always had his music; he could always envelop himself in it and repress the world around him. The notes that flowed from his fingertips would never refuse him, would never reject him. His instruments would never deny to allow him to do with them as he chose. He could always rely on his compositions, and while he at times might have lacked the inspiration, those moments would fade and he would once again devote his life to his one true and faithful love; music.
While this had been his motivation to continue living, he still felt the ache at heart when he watched his own pain mirrored in Aurelie's soft green eyes.
He guessed her to be in her early to mid twenties; much too young to die. She was a most beautiful woman, with her long ebony waves cascading down her back, caramel-brown colored skin, so flawless.
Aurelie returned her gaze on the branch above her, preparing herself mentally for the climb. The noose ended high above her head, almost making it impossible for her to reach, and she would need to climb to the branch both to finish tying the knot and to carry out her plan.
She wondered how quickly it would happen and shuddered at the thought. Part of her screamed in the back of her mind that she was insane for thinking of such a foolish idea, but she silenced it with the assurance that there was nothing else that she could do and that she had no other choice. After all, what would become of her if she continued to live?
At least this way she would no longer continue to endure the shame and humilation brought upon her family. She dared not think of the terrible things that would befall her otherwise.
She released the rope and watched it hang limply in the air above her. Then she turned her attention to the large tree before her and inched closer to it. She placed a hand on it, feeling the coarse and uneven bumps and rivets of the bark.
She had never climbed a tree before, and she wondered how she would ever accomplish the task, with its massive trunk that seemed to taunt her; dared her to be so bold.
She closed her eyes and a tear silently slid down the smooth sun-kissed skin of her cheek. For a brief moment, she almost lost the courage, but she gently bit her bottom lip, nervous, and reminded herself of what she would face if it wasn't done.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and what she saw startled her, so much so, that she took a clumsy step backward and felt a twig snap beneath her foot.
Piercing hazel-colored eyes with specks of green and honey-brown in them, framed by dark lashes; a strong jawline with smooth skin, an ivory-colored porcelain mask that stretched over half of his face-the right side-thick, dark hair sleeked back. He was tall, much more than she, in fact; had he been standing closer to her, she would have barely met his shoulder. Instead, he stood a small distance away from her.
She blinked her eyes once more to make certain that they weren't deceiving her into seeing something that wasn't there in her time of severe emotional distress. Still, he stared back at her.
Why such a handsome and apparently elegant man, dressed in a black waistcoat and matching black pants, and a ruffled cream-colored dress-shirt that was not lacking a matching cravat, would have the desire to wear such an odd accessory as a mask, was confusing to her. Even his black leather shoes screamed wealth and fineries, so why hide his face?
She could only assume that such a bizarre spectacle was simply her imagination, and that she really had gone mad. After all, why would such a strange man appear among the trees at a time such as this? The thought that perhaps he was her neighbor had not even crossed her mind, as she remembered the neighboring estate to appear uninhabited and abandoned.
Aurelie ignored the man and propped a foot on the base of the tree and planned on going about her business as usual. After all, it was preposterous to trust that what she was seeing was real; ridiculous, even.
"Are you certain that is wise, Mademoiselle?"
His words somewhat startled her, and she hesitated. She looked back at him as he slowly neared her with graceful and deliberate strides. She nearly wanted to laugh at him, and he could see the smile tugging at her lips.
"Whatever do you find to be humorous?" he asked, puzzled and slightly annoyed.
"I am speaking with a Frenchman, in the middle of nowhere-a forest, to be exact," she responded with a stifled giggle. At any moment, she expected him to disappear, reminding her that she really had lost her mind.
"And that amuses you?"
It was her turn to look quizically at him, as if he should have already known the answer to his own question.
"Well, yes," she said. "I only know one Frenchman-my father-and certainly not any who cover their face with something so absurd!"
Erik clenched his jaw tightly, feeling the sting of her words and his blood began to boil. Instinctively, he curled his hands into fists as he watched the amused look in her eyes, the smile on her lips, as she mocked him.
"Then perhaps you do not know the Phantom of the Opera," he seethed in a threatening tone. He hoped that this revelation would humble her so that she would keep silent, perhaps even frighten her. But her response was not what he had anticipated.
She threw her head back and laughed; a gesture that angered him even further. He waited for her to finish as the smirk still played upon her lips.
"The Phantom of the Opera? Now you are telling me that I live beside the infamous and haunting Opera Ghost, and that you are he? Have you come here to sing me down from this tree with your bewitching melody, then, only to abduct me and hide me away in your dark abode? Well, I will not have it!"
Her laughter faded into a snort as she stared at him in disbelief. At least, she thought, even in her dark and depressed circumstances, she could have a hearty laugh before it was all over.
Hard lines had formed on Erik's features as his fierce stare nearly burned her skin. Any normal person would have cowered under his gaze; any sane person would have trembled with fear.
Though she had to admit that his look was a bit unnerving, she did not let it intimidate her, as she knew that her mind was only playing games with her. A masked Frenchman in the forest, and the Phantom of the Opera, to be exact! What rubbish!
"Now I know that I must be going insane! What a vivid hallucination! Perhaps my lack of sleep or food?" she wondered to herself. Out of all things, though, she wondered why her madness had materialized in the form of an extortionist who had haunted the French Opera House; a place that she had never been to.
"A hallucination?" he repeated to himself, confused.
"Yes," she reiterated. "But I daresay, your stories were quite entertaining two-and-a-half years ago. Quite the juicy gossip everywhere!"
The sun was setting and she was growing impatient at the imaginary intruder. He was distracting her focus and she found that her plans were temporarily hindered from his mindless conversation. Still, she decided to amuse herself further.
"But," she continued, "I do not blame that..." she latched onto the tree with a grunt and prepared to climb, "...Chorus Girl-"
"Lead Soprano," he muttered darkly.
"Oh, excuse me! Lead Soprano," she mocked, whipping her head around to shoot a glare in his direction before she continued. "I understand why she left you, what with your ungentlemanly behav-"
Erik closed the space between them and wrapped a gloved hand around her neck, though he did not apply much pressure, causing both of her feet to stumble to the ground. She barely caught herself and her eyes widened with alarm.
"If you truly wish for your life to end," he spoke into her ear, "Then perhaps you should finish your sentence."
The feeling of his large hand around her throat and the scent of his black leather glove brought her back to reality. As ludicrous as the situation had seemed, she could never have imagined such detail and intricacy, not to mention the sensation of him physically clutching her throat. This man was living, breathing, and completely real; not to be trifled with. And that could only mean one thing.
She really was facing death.
Erik nearly smirked at her apparent fear and he pulled his hand away from her. He had not planned on harming her, as he would never bring harm to a woman, but intimidation and fear were all that he knew to use for disobedience. And it worked.
The sudden realization of his words hit her, and she stifled a gasp.
"So y-you really are him?" she asked herself more than she did him. She glanced back up at the tree and muttered under her breath, "Then perhaps this will be the best decision that I will make."
He heard what she said, and any desire that he once had to convince her not to carry out her death-sentence was now gone, and so he said nothing to stop her.
Aurelie attempted to climb the tree once more, now thoroughly convinced that she was making the right choice. Either she ended her life, her pain, suffering and humiliation, or she faced the fact that she was not even safe in her own home, for however long it remained hers. Who knew what would happen to her if she continued to live, and there would be no one around to save her from him.
Erik didn't bother to stop her this time, as he was still livid. Let her hang herself, he thought. A noose better suits that pretty little neck of hers than any fine jewelry!
He was determined to leave her there, and so he turned away. With each step that he took away from her, however; he could feel the pangs of guilt that plagued his conscience. Regardless of her selfish and rude behavior, could he watch a young woman take her life, knowing that he had the chance to prevent it? Could he sleep at night, knowing that he did not help someone in need?
The girl is spoiled, he thought to himself. She is wretched, and does not deserve my sympathy.
Then he thought back to the young suitor that he had seen leaving her house, weeks ago. Had she been in love, had she been happy, would she not at least live for the young boy? The man with a flawless face, smooth and unmarred skin, and wealth?
The more that he thought about this, the more confusing this woman became to him. Perhaps he did not know the full story, or perhaps something had happened that had caused this. Even if he should never find out what it was, he would convince himself that there was at least one redeeming quality in her, and he would help her. He could easily be rid of her after she was safe, with the thought that he had done a good deed. He would be the Good Samaritan, if you will.
As if to increase his guilt, he heard a crackling of twigs and a loud thud behind him, and he knew that he couldn't turn his back on her, now.
