"Be quiet, be quiet, you have nothing to fear…"
"Nothing will come from me at all…"
"Better with you then waiting…"
"Nothing, nothing, nothing at all…"
"Waiting for death's ghostly call…"
"Nothing, nothing, nothing at all…"
"Echoes of whispers coming off the walls…"
"Echoes of whispers… nothing at all…"
"Nothing at all…"
"Echoes of whispers…"
"Nothing at all…"
"Better then waiting, waiting"
"Nothing at all"
"Waiting, waiting"
"Nothing at all"
"Echoes, I hear them…!"
"Here is the call- it is nothing at all!" Erik's fingers danced amongst the lower keys as his voice rose out over Christine's- they were practicing again on the piece he had written last night, a duet. In the play, the main character, Don Juan, was singing now with a small girl he had kidnapped and taken to his dark lair full of fire and demons. Don Juan said that he needed her to sing for his music, but she did not believe him; she thought something much worse was going to happen to her.
Erik had promised that the day was going to be a hard and difficult one for her; they would start basic reading lessons, and he'd teach her the alphabet (But, on the way of writing, he would not be the best mentor). Then, if they finished all of that, he would teach her how to swim.
"Sing from here, not your throat." Erik advised, touching the cloth that covered the skin, which covered her heart.
"I am singing from my heart, Erik!" She moaned, gruff from self-disappointment.
"No,
I meant, sing from your chest." He turned his face to hide the
smile. Christine blushed, sucked in a deep breath, and then sang
"Doe!" right from her chest. The results were
marvelous.
"Tomorrow we can work on that little waver you have
when you sing, on your high notes- do you know what I mean? It is
nothing personal, Mon Amie, rest assure it is not." He sent her a
wary look with his gold eyes.
"I know, Angel."
"Good. Now, let's teach you how to read… I didn't learn until I was here, under the opera house… I didn't have a lot to do, besides Don Juan, which tired me mentally. I only started writing it six years ago, but I had been planning it all my life."
"That is nice, Erik."
"Ah, I see that I have bored you. What book shall we start out on? Oh, here is a good one; have you ever heard of The Brothers Grim?" He pulled a book out of one of his shelves in his room- they had been practicing there since she had woken up, stiff from sleeping in the casket.
"No, Erik." Her tone was just interested enough to make him believe that she wanted to read, though she herself thought that if dogs could talk, her words were what they would say. 'Yes, Master', 'No, Master', 'If you please… Master.'
"They make up fairytales." He waited…
"Fairies have tales?" Christine asked with a little more interest. Erik knew that question had been coming.
"No, it is fairytale, as in stories about faeries, or stories about imaginary creatures, like dragons and such."
"Brothers Grim… so, two brothers wrote this?" She took the pale red book in her hand, and stared at it. All she could see was squiggly lines and curves, but she knew that they were letters in the alphabet.
"Yes. Let's begin with the story of Snow-White and Rose-Red…" He took the book and flipped through the pages, his arm around her waist, for there was not a lot of room of the little organ bench.
Erik opened the book to a page that had a picture on it of two girls. One was tall and pretty, with white hair, and the other was pale and slightly shorter, with red hair. "All good fairytales start with the words 'Once upon a time'. Once is spelled with the letters O and N and C and E. See the letter that is just a circle? That is an O. Say O."
"Oh?"
"Feel how your lips go into a little circle when you say O? That is how you remember it. You're a fabulous student, Christine."
"Thank you, Erik."
The lesson went on. At every paragraph read, Erik would double back and show her all the letters that were in said paragraph. The only letters that Christine got immediately were O, L, lowercase t, E, and I.
"With those for words you could spell… oil, lot, toll, and toil. Oh! And you could spell Lotte! Little bitty Lotte!"
Christine's eyes glittered green. "How do you spell Lotte, Erik?" Her voice had the same, demanding tone of long ago in it… she had learned not to ask too much of her guardian long ago…
"Repeat after me… L."
"L."
"O."
"O."
"T."
"T."
"T."
"We already said that one, Erik."
"There is two Ts in Lotte."
"Oh."
"No, the letter is T."
"T. Okay… I mean, I get it."
"Right. We have L, O, and two Ts now. All we need is an E to complete it."
"E!" Christine pointed out the letters in Snow-White and Red-Rose- she pointed out the letter L in the word lost, the letter O in Snow, the letter T in White, and the letter E in Rose.
"I wish my name was Rose." Christine sighed as Erik put the book away and back on the shelf. "No, Christine is a beautiful name," Her angel insisted. He was always in a happy mood when he was teaching her something, even if it took her a couple tries to get it.
"Mmm… Red-Rose is beautiful…er."
"I'm afraid I have to disagree. Rose is a pretty name for a rose, not a girl."
"But I like roses!"
"But would you like to be one?"
Knowing that she had lost the fight, Christine stopped speaking. Relishing in his triumph, Erik began the next thing he was too teach her. He did not sit down on the bench again, but, in stead, stood in the middle of the room. Then, from his pocket his fished out a long coil of rope. Slowly un-doing the loops, Erik held the golden rope in his hands.
"Oh, I remember! That is your defense mechanism!"
"Very good, child."
Christine cheeks glowed pink at his compliment.
"Now, it is only a defense mechanism because one can do this." In a flash, he had the rope twisted into a lasso-type thing and around Christine's neck. He had his hands around the knot, which could tighten or loosen it. He stood so close that Christine saw the small rise and fall of his chest as he breathed softly and quickly, his gold eyes on her face, which she knew must show all the surprise she felt.
"One can pull it tighter…" He pulled the rope around her neck closer to him, putting pressure against her throat and making her gasp at the sudden feeling of not being able to breath. Christine stumbled forward- she was a servant to the rope. She had to follow it or it would closed its twine claws around her skin… She breathed heavily.
"Or one can let it go…" He pulled back the knot, which slid down the rope, and Christine swallowed sweet air once more. "It is called the Punjab," he said quietly. "I was taught how to use it a long time ago. It has saved my life and taken many others. Would you like to learn how to use it?"
Horror filled Christine's chest. No! She couldn't learn to use that deathly rope! She was not a killer! Erik could see that she was not going to respond quickly, so he added, "You do need a weapon. Someday, someone is going to come here and try to take you away from me. I'll use this," he took the rope off from around her neck and held it in his hands, "but what will you use, for we have to be together forever- what will you use?"
Christine pondered this for a brief moment, her mind flashing images of weapons in her head. Pistol, knife, and…
"I'll use a shovel." She added, trying to keep her voice steady.
"A shovel!" Erik couldn't keep the astonishment from his voice, however. "You can't kill anyone with a shovel."
"I'm not a murderer." She echoed her thoughts. "I'll just knock them out, and then you can lasso them… yes, I'd like that. No blood at all! I'll knock 'em out," She let out a nervous laugh, "and you can snap their spines! Ha, ha!"
With that, Christine Daae fainted.
(I just had to stop the chapter there XD Like, five updates. One day. One sleepy Lux. I could be a frickin' reality TV show. -lux)