Chapter 9

Erik lightly touched Chrissie's shoulder. She woke with a start, crying out in surprise. Erik remained undaunted. He pushed a tray into Chrissie's hands.

Chrissie stared at him as he settled himself on the ground. His eyes never left her face.

Glancing down, Chrissie stared at the food she was expected to eat. The meal looked as if it had seen better days. A brown liquid sloshed around in a chipped mug. The bread roll was crusty and hard and smelled stale. In the middle of the tray in a small bowl was some grey pasty mush that barely resembled gruel. He expects me to eat this? One thing is for certain, he is not a chef.

Chrissie's stomach moaned. It was either this food or none. She forced herself mouth to chew; halfway through the meal, she almost vomited.

Erik noted Chrissie's obvious disgust. A person would have to be blind to miss it.

"Since you do not like my food, you can cook and clean then." He rose to his feet.

Chrissie nodded, clutching her stomach. She'd rather work then have to eat another meal prepared by Erik. He obviously lacked talent when it came to cooking as well as cleaning.

He led her to his kitchen. It was very small and could be compared to a large closet. Erik dumped some cleaning supplies at Chrissie's feet and left.

After a few moments of staring at the mess, Chrissie bravely stepped foreword armed with a bucket, bar of lye soap and a rag.

As a young girl she had spent many hours hiding in the kitchen. It had been far more entertaining to watch the servants at work then play the pianoforte. Now, Chrissie had an opportunity to test her knowledge.

First she filled a basin with water. It was only after she had finished that she remembered she needed hot water. Glancing around the kitchen she spotted a large pot. Chrissie carefully filled it with water and placed it on a hook over some dying coals. Using an iron rod, she stoked the coals.

When the water was hot Chrissie filled the basin and began gathering dirty dishes. Armed with soap and a rag she scrubbed until her arms ached. How do the servants do this? They make it look so easy…

A few dozen dishes later the soapy water lost the last of its heat. The water in the large pot was also cold but the coals had gone out.

Chrissie sighed. Now what do I do? Ignoring the pain in her arms, Chrissie tucked the clean dishes away in a cabinet. She placed the remaining dirty dishes in the basin, after using the leftover soapy water to clean the counter top. To complete the cleaning, she grabbed a broom and began to sweep. Under the dust and dirt she discovered animal droppings and small insects.

When she was satisfied with the kitchen, Chrissie marched out with the intent of leaving behind Erik and all his horrors. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him. Too late she saw him follow her. Frantically, Chrissie picked up her pace and promptly tripped and fell.

Erik placed his hands on her waist and pulled her up off the ground

"Let go of me!" Chrissie screamed at him, swinging her small fist at him.

Erik released his grip on her. The sudden motion caused her to fall again.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked looking down at her.

"Are you blind? Can you no see that I am leaving? Well, no mind, it does not matter." She stood up. "Now, if you do not mind, please move aside and I will be on my way."

"And how do you plan on leaving?"

Chrissie thought for a moment. She had no idea how she was going to leave.

"The only way you will be able to get away is through the lake. The boat is not around but if you would like to swim…" He smiled deviously.

Damn! He knows I can't swim. She searched for words to use. "I will walk then."

"You will walk?"

"Yes I will walk."

"You cannot walk."

"Why can't I walk?"

"You want to walk. Fine, then be my guest and walk across the lake. Who am I to stop you? Go ahead; walk if that is what you would like."

Chrissie felt a shiver run down her spine. If this is what it would take to free herself then so be it. The chance of her surviving was very slim. Death seemed a logical escape.

Defiantly, she took a step towards the lake. With her neck high in the air she proudly planted her foot down into the water. Shocked by the chill, she nearly pulled it out. Bravely however foolishly, she wadded until the water reached her knees. Two more steps brought the water up to her chest. Chrissie withheld the shrieks that tried to force their way out of her mouth. A shiver shook her entire body.

Erik called out to her. "It only is going to get deeper. And unless you plan on holding your breath for the next twenty minutes, it's going to be impossible for you to continue to walk. I suggest you come back now."

Chrissie ignored him. Taking a deep breath she stepped foreword again but her feet were so numb she slipped. In an instance she was completely submerged. She panicked. The water was dark and murky; she couldn't see two inches in front of her face. Her lungs inhaled water as she tried to push to the surface.

A pair of strong arms grabbed her waist from behind and lifted her to the surface. How could he move that fast? She spit water and coughed as Erik flopped her onto the hard ground. She expected him to smirk and boast but he remained silent. When her lungs were clear she began to shiver and moan.

Erik lifted Chrissie up into his arms. "You are frozen. I'll prepare a bath for you and find you some dry clothes."

He sat her down on a soft chair. "You look like a drowned rat." He pushed a wet strand of blond hair to the side. Chrissie tried to punch him with her fist but before she could strike him, he was gone.


A half hour later Chrissie found herself soaking in a hot bath. She forced herself to admin Erik had kind to her. The cruelest deed he had committed was bringing her here. He could hurt her in so many ways but he hadn't.

A brown dress lay on a chair. The design was simple but Chrissie had never seen a more beautiful sight. Erik's old clothes had not suited her at all. How he had gotten her the dress she didn't know; only that she was grateful he had. To complete the outfit, there was a light chemise, stockings and a tiny pair of slippers.

She raked a comb through her damp hair. How she missed her maids with their sweet-smelling potions. Her skin felt dry and her hair was stringy and tangled. Her limbs were sore from lying on the floor and her arms ached from scrubbing.

Chrissie changed her position in the small tub. It was difficult to soak and comb her hair at the same time. Finally, when the warmth had left the water, Chrissie rose. Quickly, she dried off her body and hair, ignoring the cold air. She slipped into her dress, feeling complete again for the first time since Erik had stolen her away.

Once again, she slipped the comb through her hair. When she was satisfied with the way it looked-she was forced to fix her hair without having the luxury of a mirror-she tied it back with a string. With a deep breath, she slipped off to find Erik.

Nearby, Erik sat reading an outdated newspaper. He did not glance up as Chrissie approached him, even after she cleared her throat. "What do you need Anne?" His voice was even and emotionless.

Chrissie studied him. It was almost impossible to tell he had saved her from drowning not even an hour ago. The only slip in his appearance was his damp hair. He had changed into drier clothing. Also, Chrissie noted, he was wearing a different mask. Glancing closer, she noted his face was a pale white color and looked unhealthy. He did not look like a gentleman but more like a beggar in need of a shave. Her eyes drifted down towards his clothing. It was worn but looked fairly comfortable. His shirt looked three times to large, but it was still obvious he was underweight. And there was the mask. Mysterious in it own way. Never had she seen him without it.

"Do you always wear your mask?"

"Yes." Still, he did not glance up.

Not to be discouraged, Chrissie tried again. "That isn't the same mask you were wearing earlier. How many masks do you own? Why don't you wear a full face mask? Why do you wear a mask anyways?"

Erik put his newspaper aside and sat foreword in his chair. Chrissie feared he was upset with her questions, but his face was as cool and calm as ever.

He sighed before answering. "I have a few different masks. I mainly wear this one though. It's more comfortable than the others."

"Oh." Chrissie was silent for a moment. "Who was the other man?"

"What other man?"

"The one in the hallway."

"Oh, that other man."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Who was he?"

"The other man?"

"Yes the other man in the hallway. Who was he? Just tell me who he is and stop being difficult!" Chrissie threw up her hands.

Erik chuckled. "Back before the Opera Populaire's famous fire, he used to work backstage. On the evening of the disaster, I'm told, he was attempting to pull at trapped ballet dancer to safety. A falling beam hit him in the head."

Chrissie shivered. How terrible!

"He passed out. Apparently, the girl pulled him out of the flames. He was in a coma for several weeks. When he awoke he didn't remember anything except his name and this Opera house."

"What was his name?"

Erik thought silently for a moment. "At one time I knew, but now I have forgotten."

Chrissie studied his face carefully. Was that a glimmer she had seen in his eyes? No, it must have been her imagination. He was a cruel and uncaring man. The only reason he had told her the story was because he had wanted to frighten her. Somehow, she wanted to believe he cared. He was so mysterious. How could a man live alone in darkness for so long? What was he hiding behind his mask? Chrissie vowed to find out.