Chapter Ten: Revelation

Erik's Diary: June 15th

The nightmares are officially back, the ones I used to have as a child. In them I feel nothing but the burning of fire, and the flames surround me in a dark room. I scream and I try to run, but I can't. There is no escape. Then, when I think it can't get any worse, I see my unmasked face trying to attack me. It frightens me so much, that I literally scare myself awake. When I do leave the prison of my mind, I find myself back in bed sweating with tears rolling down my cheeks. To calm my nerves I stand up and pound my fists into the brick wall, as though trying to fight what's in my head. This happened four times to me last night, and I finally stayed awake after I made my knuckles bleed. It was my first episode in eight years… I just can't believe it's happening again. This journal is now to help me keep my sanity, so I don't go crazy like I did as a child. I can't go back to that dark place. I need to think of something, anything, to keep me where I am now… I refuse to write about this anymore.

She's better than I thought. Christy Davis, I mean. Well, I suppose I should call her Chris, even in my private writings. That was what she insisted on when we decided to proceed with the lessons. I always thought that Christy was a lovely name for her, but somehow, Chris does fit her in an odd way. It's actually funny that she's calling me a name that I enjoy: Desmond.

The reason she is calling me that is because I wanted her to name me, to give a title to the shadow that is offering lessons to her. That was what she picked for me, Desmond. I don't know why, but I like the ring and subtle slyness there is to it. I suppose if I was called something other than Erik, that would be it.

But anyway, back to Chris. Yes, she is better than I anticipated. Her breath support has greatly improved since the last time I saw her, and she managed to incorporate that with her singing. I believe since she is so familiar with her voice and it's capabilities all ready, that that's the reason she is learning so quickly. She literally can't back track now, she can only get better.

She heard my voice for the very first time today. She came into the theater while I was playing the piano and singing. I didn't want her to hear me sing yet (since I don't want her to compare my skill to hers) but I'm glad she did anyway. It gave her new confidence in me. It wasn't until I ended the song did I turn around and realize she was down in the pit with me, her body leaning back against the wall for support and her eyes wide with surprise… and awe.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes. They remind me of the sky on a clear day, and they always shine with emotion. I wonder at times if the girl realizes how pretty she is. Her skin always has that sun-kissed glow, even when she's not in any light, and her hair is always full and free of any tangles. I know I've described her before in these writings, but I can't help but think of her image whenever I write about her. I'm beginning to notice little things about her now, since I've started watching her so much and I'm spending time with her in the evenings. I've never seen her wear shorts like most of the theater girls do in the summer, just jeans or capris. And her makeup is minimal, with only foundation and mascara. I would love to see her with lipstick on and in a dress… she's got good legs after all.

I'll admit, when I was a young man, I often noticed how beautiful women are. They are God's finest creature, with soft skin and a loving nature. When I first came to the theater I would observe with admiration and longing the ballet girls backstage whispering with anticipation for their next scene on stage. I used to have a crush on a few of them, and if I liked their skill, I put letters in their lockers to flatter them. That's how the notes first came about. Now, they are strictly for criticism and advice… but depending on how good natured and nice the performers are, I do change the delivery of my opinion. I used to have slight emotion behind my letters, and I don't know exactly what happened to make it go away. I think one day I realized that I myself could never have a beautiful woman… so I shut the idea and longing for a companion away, and focused my mind completely on the arts (I think this was also around the time I started to take up drawing and sketching).

But why lie? I still think women are beautiful, as any man would. But Chris—she has the most unique beauty. With her defined cheekbones and plump lips, she looks like a more natural version of Marilyn Monroe. I admire so much about her. She's sweet and kind to everyone, and does her work well. She's so polite to adults it's almost sickening, and even though she isn't the most popular in the theater, everyone regards her with warmth and welcomes her into their company. Her slight shyness she has is endearing, and of course, there is her love for music that touches me deeply.

I'm drawn to her like a moth is drawn to a flame, and usually the moth gets burned. And still, I go on giving the lessons. Tomorrow I won't see her, and maybe that'll give me time to exorcise these feelings from inside me. I know I can't back away from our deal, so I need to figure out a way to cope with her being so close to me in the pit…

Close enough to touch her.

Close enough to sing to her…

Maybe I can't ignore this yearning after all.

Chris, wherever you are right now, good night. While you sleep I'll remain awake, waiting for the only thing I have to look forward to:

Our next lesson together.

~Erik