A/N: Special thanks to may asher for leaving a review as well! :) Don't worry, I'm not going to kill Erik, I promise. Let me know your thoughts!
Chapter 10: Erik, 1883
For the second time in my life, I seem to have acquired a nurse. She works with cool efficiency, checks my pulse and brings me refreshments at regular intervals. Just like Christine she doesn't seem to know what else to do with herself and finds safety in my weakness, but unlike Christine her sanity does not hinge upon my well-being.
Her first few visits are marked by silence. She goes through the motions and then retreats back upstairs and for the first couple of days that arrangement suits me fine. But as time mercilessly moves on, torturing thoughts start emerging from the quiet. They start to build a web around me, cocooning me in the memories of my life. The cellar becomes an illusion filled with whirring objects and architectural sketches. My body transforms from cold and faint to satisfyingly worn out and sun kissed. There is a treacherous sense of safety that seems to rob me of life and makes me question my age. Surely next time the door opens, Giovanni will wander in, inviting me to accompany him to another building site. But this is wherein the error lies, one simple fact that lets me see the sham for what it is. Giovanni had never invaded the privacy of this room, he had respected my independence and trusted that my loyalty would make me seek him out eventually.
In the aftermath of the mirage, I am possessed by even greater frailty for I realise that I have nothing but ghosts to keep me company. I have poured all my energy into righting this wrong but am left with nothing but the stale taste of defeat. I have no purpose anymore, no goal or direction. There is no beauty left in Italy, only in France where Christine is no doubt sharing her bed with her husband. There is no sense of triumph to carry me forward, giving me hope until I can find the next project to entertain myself with. Despair seems to lurk in every corner of the room, shaking me awake at night and suffocating me slowly. But when the girl enters it is like a ray of light, an anchor that I cling to for respite before the current drags me away once more.
"I've acquired some candles at the market today," she announces one day, making her way across the space, "I thought they might brighten up the room a little."
She stops every now and again, bends over to set a candle down before lighting it. Then she crouches down before me, offering her hand.
Habitually, I hold out my arm so she may feel my pulse.
"What day is it today?" I ask as well.
My voice sounds coarse and raspy because I haven't used it for such a long time.
"2nd September," she answers automatically while her fingers search my wrist.
She seems disconcerted to find me actively engaging with her.
"So many days…" I sigh and shift.
My spine has already grown weary of holding me upright.
"Is there perhaps a way I could wash myself?" I ask hesitantly.
I hate to appear desperate but the lack of personal hygiene has brought up many unpleasant memories.
She glances pensively at the pot I've relieved myself in, the one she's emptied and brought back every time without complaint, and finally she nods.
"Tonight I will bring you water."
"Thank you," I whisper and my arm shakes in her hand.
The magnitude of my feelings seems to catch her by surprise and she curiously seeks out my eyes. "This is not a prison."
"No," I press out a chuckle that's tainted with melancholy, "perhaps it isn't intended to be. But you'd be surprised how many people are imprisoned without walls to confine them."
She seems to mull this over and then tilts her head.
"Perhaps I wouldn't be surprised, Sir." She answers and I find my own melancholy in her smile. "Your pulse is still weak, you must rest more. I'll return tonight."
I watch her rise to her feet and leave the room without a second glance. But at least she has given me something new to ponder for the rest of the day.
The candles have burnt more than halfway down by the time she sets foot into the cellar again. She doesn't speak to me but places a large bowl of water in front of me.
"Let it cool down first," she instructs, already on her way back to the door, "I will fetch you some towels and fresh clothes in the meantime."
I hum to acknowledge her words and then hold my palms over the steaming bowl. Despite her warning, I soon dip a finger into the water and decide that it's reached a bearable temperature. I prefer doing this without spectators.
The girl looks caught between surprise and annoyance when she enters again and finds me in my undergarments on the mattress, beads of water still coating my skin.
"You're not of such interest to me, Sir." She quips and places a pile of towels and clothes into my outstretched hands.
"No doubt," I shrug, rubbing myself dry, "but there are certain comforts of privacy one only truly appreciates when they've been taken away previously."
She watches me curiously, clearly intrigued by my statement but averts her eyes when I make an effort to rise to my feet.
"Why don't you say what's on your mind, Signorina?" I ask.
I am trying to change clothes at the same time which proves to be embarrassingly challenging on my own.
"Because I don't want to encourage you in any way. You made that comment not by means of explanation, but to reel me in and I do not wish to spend more time with you than is absolutely necessary."
Her words sting my already wounded pride, especially in light of my recent realisation, but I refuse to let her notice.
"If that was true then surely you would've let me die."
She exhales exasperatedly and I quickly glance to make sure she hasn't turned around.
"I am certain even you can see the difference between the two. As I said before, I wasn't going to let you die. But that doesn't mean I wish to make your acquaintance either. You nearly killed me, Sir, you've blackmailed me and stalked me so believe me when I say that I've had enough of you to last me a lifetime."
I laugh sadly and lower myself back down on the mattress. "I suppose that's a plausible standpoint."
"Well thank God for that! Thank God it's plausible!" She mocks icily.
"I needed your assistance, Signorina," I start to explain but the impatience that colours my tone is only too obvious, "and I don't believe you would've given it willingly, had I asked you."
"Let's see," she turns around to face me now, "a masked man prowls around the house at night and asks for information that doesn't concern him."
"It does concern me!" I bellow, cutting her off but instantly my body punishes me with a series of violent coughs.
"How?" she demands, matching my volume. "As far as I can tell you're not Italian, so not related to any of the family members you've inquired about."
"There are things stronger than blood bonds, Signorina." I mutter quietly, looking at my hands that are, once more, covered in blood.
The girl remains quiet but I can feel her eyes on me.
"Was it you that killed her?"
"Who?" I ask but at the same time an icy cold settles over me and I know what she's about to answer.
"That girl…that youngest sister that fell off the balcony? Perhaps it wasn't an accident, perhaps it was you."
"What a vivid imagination you have." I taunt although bile rises from my stomach.
"Certainly I would not return after having committed such an atrocity."
"Perhaps there's a plausible explanation, Sir." She comments with a thin smile. "After all, you very nearly killed me and yet here we are. You were pretty desperate to gain access to that information. Perhaps you wanted the house in the "rightful" hands so much because it would be a final way to assuage your guilt?"
Her assumptions are so close to the truth that I feel paralysed.
"I didn't mean to kill her…" I whisper quietly, "I should've repaired that balustrade, I should've just left."
In my head, the same old reel repeats itself and in my wretchedness I reach for her hands, hoping to find absolution if I confess my sins in this very spot.
"I had no choice, she cornered me, she needed to see and then she…she stumbled and fell. I should have prevented it. I should have refused. I murdered her, it is true, but I never meant to harm her, I never meant for this to happen!"
Her eyes meet me with disgust and pity.
"He was like a father to me…"
The words continue to spill forth without control until my body folds in on itself and the world starts fading to black once more.
She must think me utterly insane and yet I feel her presence until I completely succumb to the darkness.