A BIG thank you to Phantic01 and KittyPimms for being the two fantastic souls to leave me reviews on the unmasking scene! Now I only wonder if you all hate me for it or something?
Enjoy your snow days America!
Disclaimer: If I were GL and owned POTO...I wouldn't be stuck in this never-ending winter :(
Chapter Eleven
Sometime around three in the afternoon, Erik, who had been drinking, remembered that Christine needed to eat or she would die and he wouldn't have a wife. At least, that was the way he was seeing everything since that morning. Everything being in absolutes, and highly dramatic at that. Before his drinking he had turned to music, pounding away on his organ for hours, creating compositions that were so hellish, he couldn't take time to write any of it down, as it might have burned a page. It was all how he felt, unable to do anything, but play. He didn't remember picking the bottle of scotch, but he had, and it was now gone as he sat on the floor, resting his back on the side of the organ.
When he got up, he stumbled a bit, but regained his balance while he made her a egg salad sandwich. He cut himself a few times as he sliced an apple, but it was unnoticed. What were a few more cuts to him? He had no wish of sitting down with her to eat, and brought the plate to her room. Once there, he saw her under the desk again and it made him scoff. Her attempts at hiding were embarrassing. She didn't notice him until he dropped the plate on her nightstand and was walking out.
"Erik!" she called after him, but he didn't think he was hearing correctly. She called again, "Erik, wait!"
He stopped, but did not turn around. There was a shuffling of things and he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer, but stopping a few safe feet away.
"Erik I…" There was a strange pang in her voice where she would start off too loudly and end too softly, but she continued, "I… Um, well, one time, when I was seven, I was trying to, to ride a bike and a hill, and my knee, and I had to go to the hospital and, and, there were stitches, and everyone kept asking and I didn't like it. There's a scar there."
Erik had not moved.
"Then I was running on rocks and split my elbow and everyone stared at me and I was crying and I didn't like it because they were staring and asking questions and I wanted to be alone but they took me to the hospital again and… And there's a scar behind my ear because I got too close to a candle when I was four and it burned my hair off and the kids laughed at me because my hair was burnt off and…"
Erik turned around slowly. His eyes were heavy and his balance was off. Everything was hazy and he had no idea what she was trying to say. He found her standing as tall as she could, but using the bed as a brace. Her eyes were not teary, but concerned, but what about? Certainly not him now that he had ruined everything with his terrible face! She looked to the floor and spoke so quietly that he would doubt what she said, thinking it was an illusion.
"What I..What I mean is that…" Then her words started to pour out as his had hours ago, "I shouldn't have" And she broke, "I shouldn't have done what I did because, b-because it wasn't nice and I don't, I didn't like it when people looked at me either and..Daddy would have been so upset if he knew what I did… I am, I am s-sorry I just, I just didn't know what… I didn't know, I wasn't thinking. I'm not a good p-person."
Erik stood still, hardly breathing. He had caused her further tears and even as she had hurt him so deeply that morning, he hurt even deeper for bringing her such sadness. She quickly wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.
"Did you real-really do everything? Did you really send me to school after Daddy died?"
She looked up to him and he answered slowly, brokenly, "Yes."
There was a pause, a very long pause as the two stared at each other, doing everything in their power to just stay standing. She found the strength to look into his eyes as she undid him with two words, "Thank you."
With that he was at her feet, clinging to her legs, his head against her abdomen, his arms pressing her into his now covered face. He didn't hear her gasp. "No my dove, no, I have been wrong. It was all me, I have done wrong, my love, you are perfect, you have always been perfect, forgive me, my angel, I have hurt you, my dove, my angel, Christine forgive me, I beg of you."
At the sight of such a broken man, she could feel nothing for herself, but only pity for him. Slowly, and without thought, letting her instinct be her guide, her hands rested on the back of his skull. He froze, unsure of what she was doing, but when she lightly began to stoke him tenderly, as no one he could remember had ever done, and even as she knew that part of his hair was missing under his mask, she did not let it frighten her because for the first time, she saw him as a scared child before her, just as she had been far too many times before him.
The feel of her touching him freely, made him sob further into her shirt, "My Christine is so good to her Erik. She is so good to him. He cannot help but love her so…"
She was feeling uncomfortable now, only wanting to put this behind them, never wanting to remember her shame again. Looking to the nightstand she saw her lunch.
"Erik, I, can we have lunch now? I, I am hungry and I don't want to stay in here any longer."
He stood before her suddenly, "Yes, yes of course, my dove is hungry, yes, come with me."
He had taken her wrist and began to lead her out the door, "But Erik what about-"
"No, no, no, that is not good enough for my angel. Let me prepare something you deserve. Come, come, dove, let me make you something more."
That early afternoon and into the evening, Christine must have had at least ten courses of food. Erik kept insisting on more things, all of them wonderful, but by her third desert, she was sure she would see the food again if she didn't stop. Rather than staying with her at the table, he kept himself wrapped up in the kitchen, coming in and out, asking for her approval on dishes, then going in to fix more. When she turned a dish away, he looked genuinely hurt and confused.
"It's not that I don't want it, really, if you could just save it for later, I'll eat it, I'm just so stuffed. Maybe we could go to the library for a little while and let my food digest."
"Yes, yes, of course, my sweet, of course, here," he slid the chair out from the table for her, "Come into the library, yes. And we will read, I will read for you, if you like. Would you like that, my dove?"
"Um, I don't mind reading for myself…"
"I could read and translate something for you that's in another language. That way it won't be a secret, now will it?"
"I...I don't know…"
"Here, let us go, no need staying in here," he took her elbow and led her into the living room, "Sit darling, sit. I will find something to read, here, sit." He motioned to the couch and she took a place. She watched him go to a shelf and pick out a small pine green book. "Here," he told her, taking his own place at his arm chair, "This is Dutch. Do you know Dutch?"
"No…" She wondered for a moment if anyone in a fifty mile radius (of where ever they were) knew Dutch either.
"Good, then I'll read it to you, yes then you'll know, here, it's a story about a curious girl who can speak with animals. You will like it, won't you? You are a dove, of course you will like it. You are my sweet, good, dove, aren't you?"
Christine wasn't sure how to react, his amount of friendliness had an unsettling undertone that gave her goosebumps. She nodded her head and he began. He was a master storyteller, using different voices for the characters, explaining words to her that didn't have a direct translation, and the like. Her nerves died down quite a bit as she listened. She was able to close her eyes and see a world that he described to her. The story was meant for children, even giving little morals at the end of each tale, and she wasn't sure if she liked the idea of him reading her child's tales to her or not. Regardless, she did love the way he spoke. There was something magical about it. Somewhere during that time she came to the conclusion that he simply liked someone to talk to and since she didn't like to talk that much anyway, than maybe, just for a little while, things might be okay. At least, as okay as things could ever possibly be, given her current situation.
Eventually, her eyes became heavy. Fragments of the story were becoming shifted and lost to her ears. Sleep. Sleep would be the answer to all terrible things that had come about that day. Sleep would be perfect.
The lough clap of the book being shut woke her up suddenly.
"No, no, no, she cannot be asleep yet! Erik has a surprise for her." He now stood before her, took hold of her wrist, and pulled her to her feet. They began to walk to a new opening that led to the hall, "Come, come, no sleeping for you, no not yet."
He led her to the couch in the music room and instructed, "No sleeping, not yet, not until…"
The sentence was never finished as he moved for the piano. She was groggy and was very tired from the whole day, but he was certainly wide awake, never wanting her to leave him now. He took his place at the piano then turned to her, a crazed excitement radiating from him. She curled up in the corner near the arm rest.
"Now dove, this is a duet, one that you will learn for me once your voice is ready for it." Considering her training, she wondered what genre he thought that she wouldn't know or couldn't sing. Screamo, she couldn't sing screamo, and while she never enjoyed the music, she was open to the option that he had written something as absurd. There was no sheet music for him to reference, but he began anyway, letting the music affect him so deeply, that the sounds that came from his fingers started to affect Christine just as much.
It was a love song, but a painful one. A love that was unseen, and unknown, like the story of two people, constantly trying to reach each other, but always falling short. All of this, she could feel, for there were no lyrics, at least not yet. He must have been playing the part she was meant to sing, but she understood it all the same. The music was a language all its own and it surrounded her, held her tightly, and warmed her very soul, but it was when he started to sing that she saw him in a light so different than what she had known prior to that moment, that she sat up.
While he sang words, they were lost to her. The words were meaningless next to the feeling of the music. It called to her, pleading for her make the necessary ties, to remove the barriers that had been there, and she went to it willingly without question. The floor below her had no feeling, the sights before her too blurry, there was only the music, the perfect and wonderful music that beckoned her further. The sound of the piano had died away and there was only his voice to be heard and it too surrounded her, letting her feel light and beautiful, even happy.
The feeling of his body coming up behind her, was not felt, his hands on her forearms did not make her shiver. She was still floating in his voice that was so quiet as it sat right next to her ear like it belonged there. Her head found a resting place on the being behind her and she was no longer sure if she carried her weight at all anymore. The voice asked of her, "Will you begin your lessons with me tomorrow, dove?"
"Yes," she murmured, feeling an impulse to turn around and curl up in the comfort of his voice. As she did, there was a jult and she was no longer standing, but being carried. She was so tired and even a little dizzy and not having to walk was a blessing just as his voice had been.
Erik lay his sleeping beauty in her bed and tucked the sheets and comforter around her snugly. He marveled at the affect his voice held over her, as it had with many, but not like it had with her. She had smiled, truly smiled, and it brought him a warmth he didn't know possible. He wanted every night to be like this one, to read to her, and sing, and tuck her in, just like this. She needed an order to things, it would allow her a sense of calm if she knew what to expect and he decided that this would be it. He knew he would need to plan out her lesson for the next day, but as she lay there, he decided it could wait.
After the day's events, stealing a kiss seemed something that he was not worthy of. This night, he sat, his back up against the nightstand, and simply played with a a few strands of her golden hair, wrapping them around his finger, then letting it fall back to her shoulders. He thought about how he had kissed her the night before, how he wanted so badly for her to be awake and alive and eventually, aroused. While sex had not been something he ever considered outside of his personal pleasings, he had thought about it more often that she was there. No, he would not take her by force, never, but he craved to have her begging for his touch. Marriage was needed, for her sake, if nothing else. He knew that once they were married, she couldn't leave him, her conscious would never allow it.
The thought of her wearing the white dress that he had already picked out, the same one she could find in the closet if she went to the back of it. Had she found it already? Did she like it? She would be perfection in that dress, he was certain of it. He imagined her standing in her room, wearing the dress, asking for his help from the intricate lace workings and as he undid them, one by one, he kissed her neck, working his way down her spine until reaching her waist. Once there, he would let the dress fall from her form, revealing white silk and lace under coverings. She would shiver, not from fear, but from anticipation, wanting only of him.
Erik had a realization that he had let his mind go too far and his pants were now tight. Looking over to Christine, he saw her sleeping innocently, unknowing of any of his vulgar thoughts. It was all too much, he needed to leave. Angered at his lack of self restraint with her, he growled as he got to his feet, walked out to the hall, and shut the wall behind him. Something had to give. She was undoing him too quickly.
Christine was surrounded by blackness, but she could see her body as if it were emitting light on its own. She held her hand in front of her face, wanting it to somehow guide her through all the black. Looking down, she found her bare feet treading over snow. The crunch of it below her seemed to echo around her, but she could not make out walls.
Beyond her there was a tiny light that held faster even as snow began to fall all around her. The wind picked up and the snow made it hard for her to see before her. She pressed on to the light and it became bigger. What was once black was now white and she ran ahead trying not to get buried. The snow was up to her thighs as she found that the source of the light was a candle. When she reached out and took it in her hand, the snow stopped in mid air, but the snow at her thighs began to rise. There was no time for her to scream as it swallowed her whole.
In the next second she sitting on the couch in Erik's library. In her right hand, the candle was still clutched and the beam of light that came from it was massive enough to light the entire room. After a quick observation, she found Erik near the opening of her bedroom. The opening was shut and he did not turn to recognize her. His hands were balled into fists, his shoulders heaved up and down with his audible breaths.
"Erik?" she called. The heaving stopped. "Erik, what's going on? Is this a dream?"
"Maybe…" his voice was slow and menacing. It echoed around the books and hit her ears, "Maybe not."
"Why are you speaking like that?"
"I'm going to give you a choice." He replied cooly, "Light or dark?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going to turn around and you will have to make your choice. You hold the candle, I know. It will be your choice."
"I...I don't understand."
He turned without moving his feet, it was as if his feet were on a turntable, but none was seen. She clutched the candle tightly as it seemed to be the only thing in the room that she could hold on to. The furniture was turning transparent and he was now sliding through it. Once realizing that she was trapped, she looked up to see his face to find that half of his entire head was now completely missing.
"I took it away for you, Christine. It scared you so much so I just took it away."
She could see his brain hanging from his head, a cavity where the nose and mouth must have been, and blood was draining heavily from too many places. It was far worse than what she had seen that day, far worse!
"Light or dark, Christine, light or dark?"
He was mere feet from her and she didn't know whether it had been her cognitive choice or not, but her scream alone was enough to blow the candle out.
"Oh...Christine"
His painful moan echoed all around her even as it had been said so quietly. She would never escape it.
Erik was holding her forearms tightly and she was doing all she could to fight him off, her eyes still closed tightly.
"Let go! Let me go! I don't want either! I don't want either!"
"Christine!"
Her eyes flashed open to find that she was in her bed. The covers had been kicked clean off and the light was on, but dim. Even as she saw that he wore the mask and his entire head was still in tact, she screamed, kicking at him and clawing at him like a wild animal. Without warning he had crushed her to his chest, sliding her entire self on top of him as he sat on the side of her mattress. She screamed again, now sobbing freely and tried to keep fighting.
"Hush dear girl, hush," he whispered above her head, rocking her slightly, "It's all over, it's all gone. Breathe love, just breathe."
"I want my daddy!" she pleaded, but he hushed her again.
"Ah, ah, ah, none of that. You're a big girl now, you need to be strong."
She didn't feel very strong being put into submission as she was. He held her tightly and kept rocking slightly to sooth her.
"You had a nightmare, my dove. It can't hurt you. Be still now, it's not yet dawn."
"I don't care! You let me go!" She kicked at him again, then started to dig her heels into the mattress. Even if it meant falling off the bed, at least it would be getting away from him. His long arm wrapped around her flailing legs and she was cradled in his arms.
"Christine, stop it." He commanded, but not without care, "I'm not hurting you."
"Yes you are! Yes you are!" She moaned.
"How?"
"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"
His embrace turned cold and she found herself apart from him so fast that she stopped crying out of shock. He withdrew to the opening to the hall. She watched him with wide eyes as he spoke.
"Of course, your highness," he said slowly, sounding like a snake, "Who am I to think that you might want some comfort after seeing you thrash around in your sleep? Who am I to want to help you feel better? After all, no one was ever around when I tried to wake up from my never ending nightmare." He stretched a large hand over his mask. "All you have to do is wake up, but I never wake up. I'll leave you now, to be alone. Do you like being alone, Christine? Is that really what you want? Then be alone to sort out your fears. I'll collect you for breakfast once it's morning."
With that, the opening was shut and he was gone.
"Alone," she repeated softly. She was alone, but that wasn't what she wanted either. If only Raoul could be there to hold her like he was. That's who she wanted...but he never was around when she had nightmares in the past. She had always woke alone and in a cold sweat, with a feeling of hopelessness that wouldn't leave her for days. This was how she felt now. Had she been any better when he was here? No, she shook her head, but it hadn't been worse either. A chilling thought crossed her, What if my dream had gotten worse if he had not woken me up?
The Erik from her dream was mixing with the Erik from life and she wondered how different the two really were. How close was Erik to such an extremity? She really didn't know.
Erik had awoken from his own nightmare that early morning. It was always the same one: his face would melt away, all of it, leaving only a bare skull left, one that he could not even cover with a mask. The rest of his skin was next until only organs and bone were left and he was completely naked, not even able to keep clothes on without them turning to dust once he touched them. They had become worse of the years. Once it was just him having to deal with such horror in a mirror, but after meeting Christine, she would appear in the dream as well, watching him and screaming, much like she had done the previous day. Then she would run and his legs would mold into the floor. He would fall to the ground every time, unable to follow, and he would be left to rot away, completely alone.
Once awake, he had to see her, he had to be sure that she was still with him. After looking in the mirror a moment to be sure nothing had gotten worse, he bolted to her room only to find her writhing and screaming from her own night terrors. He remembered a time, very long ago, after his mother had dropped him off at an orphanage, unable to pay for his medical bills any longer, where he would wake in a cold sweat willing to give anything to have his mother hold him as she did before the infection. He was never allowed to room with other boys, seeing as people were afraid they would get infected, and the feeling of loneliness was so overwhelming that it used to choke him with tears.
This was not what he wanted for Christine, and all he wanted to do once she was awake, was hold her and tell her it was a dream, to have her feel that she was not alone, and maybe even get her back to sleep, but she wanted nothing of it. His every instinct had told him that this was what she needed to feel calm again and putting any shred of pride aside, he tried to make her understand that she was safe with him, but after being rejected again, he had to leave. It was all becoming too much for him to bare. As quiet and reserved as she was, she was still an extrovert, needing people to give her strength as she was not strong enough to make her own. He knew it was damaging to leave her as she was, but he could not take her tears or screaming any longer.
He was on his way to the organ when, without notice, every light flickered out. Seconds later, an ear shattering scream was heard from Christine's room.
"Christine!" He yelled, worry shaking his being. He ran to her room, his eyes adjusting easily to the darkness. She was found, curled up in the angle made by her nightstand and the bed. She was screaming, her hands over her ears, her eyes shut tightly. Without thinking, he knelt to her level, placed his hands over hers and tried to give her assurance. She screamed again, terror overcoming her.
"Christine, please dove, I will not hurt you, the generator-"
The lights flickered back on as if on command. She looked up skeptically to see if her mind was still playing tricks on her. Placing her palms over her eyes, and grabbing pieces of her hair she moaned, "Am I still dreaming? Am I still dreaming?"
Recognizing the signs of a panic attack, he spoke her her soothingly, "Christine, I need you to listen to me. You're going to be fine. There was a storm outside and lightning struck the power cables. That's all it was. The generator is running now, it won't happen again, my dove."
She stopped shaking as violently, "A power outage?"
"Yes dove, that's all it was. No need to fear, my pet."
"Where are we?" she looked at him now, her blue eyes surrounded by tears.
"This is your room, dove."
"No...I mean, where is this place? Is there a tornado?"
He ignored her first question, "No, my darling, there is no tornado."
"Have you checked to see?"
Erik knew Khan would be waiting for him by now and knew better than to let the man snoop around.
"Would it make you feel better if I checked?"
"Yes, yes, please go check just…" She sat up to her knees, "Don't let the lights go off again."
"Stay here dove, I will check for you." He stood, deciding to leave her on the floor if she were comfortable there, "Don't be afraid now, you're perfectly safe."
With that he was out into the hall, shutting the wall behind him. He knew Khan would be in the library, but could not chance Christine seeing him.
"Erik, this is not good." He spoke directly, his eyes down cast.
"Do you know how far it spread?" he crossed to Khan.
"Not yet, most of the city is dark from what I could see from the tower camera."
Erik went to a remote control and spoke into it, "Empire State code 22367." The TV came on and showed the top of the tower. The sun was rising over the Hudson, but all of Manhattan was dark. There were no street lamps, lit windows, or even car lights. It was a step back in time of three hundred years. Erik took a large breath and spoke again, "Empire State code 22369." The western view of the city was shown in shadows.
"It appears that only the island has the outage. New Jersey is still on." Khan said.
"Yes." Erik was looking at the screen, but somewhere else in his mind.
"We should move." Khan stated.
"No!" Erik rounded on him, "She cannot be moved, not yet."
"It isn't safe here. This is only the first attack. They will not end here."
"We will move, just not yet." He retorted.
"If you want her safety, you will move."
"And you won't be coming with us." Erik snapped.
"You're going to need my help, Erik. She's going to need my help. Getting out of the country will be much harder without me."
"Let me think, man!"
Khan backed away at this. Erik did need to think. Neither of them had expected the attacks to be coming so soon. They had heard reports that they were being held off until late fall. Erik had even meddled with the group responsible, having had invented the technology and selling it to them himself. The deal was that they were to wait, but once it had started, he knew there would be no stopping them.
"Erik?" he heard his name being called from her bedroom and he went to her immediately.
"Yes dove, there is no tornado here." he answered once in her room. She was standing near the bed, look unsure of something. "Do you feel any better?"
"I… Yes, I do, I just…" she looked to the floor for a moment, then changed expressions, "It just scared me because Daddy and I had to hide out during a tornado and… But there isn't one?"
"No, dove, there is no tornado."
"Okay, well, I, I think I'm going to take a shower then. Is it morning now?"
"Good idea, pet, that ought to make you feel better. It is morning enough."
"Yes, well, okay, I'm going to go then."
He watched as she closed the door of the bathroom behind her, the suspicion that she had heard his previous conversation being fresh on his mind.
Once breakfast was prepared and Christine was sitting with him at the table, he chose not to pressure her for information too quickly. Guilt was rising from her body like smoke as she kept her eyes on her food, never looking up at him. His unmasked eyebrow cocked in suspicion as she was now chasing pieces of fruit around her plate with her fork, failing to eat them.
"Are you not hungry, dove?"
She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide, caught.
"I...I guess...not."
"Very well, as I told you yesterday," he stood up and walked to her plate, "We will begin your music training today, but first," he took the plate from her suddenly and she looked up, "A matter of business." Erik placed the plate in the place where she could not see it disappear. "I feel it pointless to try and maneuver around this subject as your level of guilt is already distracting. It will be of no use to your learning. Now tell me Christine, what exactly is it that you heard this morning when I left your room?"
Her answer came slowly, as if calculating the next best move, "I take it that you did not mean for me to hear what I did."
"Not exactly, but I implore you to tell me what it was that you heard." He now stood near her, leaning some of his weight on the table. While he was not angry, at least not yet, her high level of emotion was making the air tense.
"Do you...work with that man?" she asked.
Erik's throat tightened at the question, "More or less. He's an assistant, if that."
"Have you known him long?"
"Now Christine," he crossed his arms, "I am in the understanding that I was the one asking you the questions, not the other way around."
Her face fell further, "Sorry, I just...I haven't heard anyone elses voice since...Was there not a storm?"
"There was no storm." he tone was a little cold, if anything, he was angry at himself for letting something like this slip.
"Why did the power go out? Did somebody...or people?" her pitch was getting high, something was scaring her.
"Does it frighten you, dove?"
"Yes," she admitted, "Daddy and I were flying to Boston the day Nine-Eleven happened. They made us land in...Newark? I think that's where it was? We could see the smoke…" A new thought came to her and she was suspicious, "Why didn't you tell me the truth? There was no storm."
"I did not want you to be like this. This matter should not be your concern." He knelt before her, trying to catch a glimpse of her blue eyes, " I will always keep you safe, dove."
"What about...other people? What will they do without power?" she whispered.
"They are not my concern."
Her eyes shot up to his, her back straightened, "What about Meg? Or Raoul? Or my school? What about their safety? There's an ice cream man who works in the corner of Central Park, he's always been nice to me, what about him? Or my favorite tea shop? There's a girl there who's trying to pay her way through NYU. What about her? What about everyone else?"
"Christine, they are not your concern-"
"But they are! You might not care about them, but I do! Why don't you-"
"You interrupted me." he said darkly, like a growl. She hushed and held her breath, "No. I do not care about them. They have never cared about me, have they? Oh yes, I could have helped, I could have helped a long time ago. You see dove, my generator is the only one immune to the the stolen electricity, but no one wanted anything to do with me all because of this." He pointed to his mask, "And now, all of those people who turned me away, I will now be able to pay them just what they paid me."
"Then maybe you should send me away too." He saw tears that had not yet fallen from her eyes. She was very serious and her cold words shot at him.
He stood, refusing to submit in any way, "Then you still don't understand, my pet. You were the only one to help me. You are one of very few and you will be protected as only a few are."
"But it's not like everyone at school was nice to me either! I wasn't the favorite or anything and if it weren't for Meg and Raoul I never would have made friends or anything, but that doesn't mean I want any of them to be hurt!"
There was a pause where Erik was trying to collect his searing thoughts enough to create grammatically correct sentences. She keeps mentioning the boy. He bawled up his fists and shut his eyes tight. She cares more of his safety. She is ungrateful.
"Are you not grateful of what I have done for you?" He spoke through clenched teeth.
"That's not…"she slowed uncomfortably, "That's not what I was…"
"You keep mentioning him. You'd rather run away with him and be lonely than be with me."
She looked away. "I don't want him hurt," she admitted.
A crack of laughter burst from him and nearly scared her up straight from her seat.
"Oh he'll be fine. Just fine, my pet. He has nothing to worry about now."he smiled eerily at his dirty secret.
"What...what does that mean?" She sat up, "How do you know?"
"He is no longer any concern of yours!" Erik barked, "You will be my wife now! And I will not have my wife being unfaithful to me!" Without warning, he reached forward so fast that she never saw his arm, only feeling his hand around her wrist. He pulled her to stand and held her left hand into the light above her, "This is your promise, Christine. You will keep this promise to me!" He dropped her hand and she held it to her chest as if in protection.
"And now, my dove, you will sing. You will only ever sing for me now!"
The music lessons were very strange for her. She had never worked with someone who held such obvious disdain for her. All of his warm up were tools that she had never heard anyone use before. It was not hard for her to catch on to those, but the intervals did throw her off plenty of times. Whenever this happened he would bark and tell her to start from the beginning, that it was necessary for her to let go of the key signatures that the western world considered appropriate, and that being on pitch was the least of what her training should have given her. With each remark she winced, as if struck with a physical blow. He would often yell at her for backing too far away from the dip in the piano. She had not realized she had been doing this, her body ruling her mind in the urge to retreat from the situation. Once after he had given the same instruction to her three times, he stood.
"It will be very difficult for me to plays these scales and hold your hand at the same time, but if it means you staying put, I'll have to comply."
Trembling she returned to the correct place and he sat down at the bench again. They stuck to doing strange scales that day, scales that changed key signature throughout. Eventually, the well tuned instrument that had been perfected for volume over the last four years, was returning to the meek girl's voice that she thought she had left behind at the cemetery. She was becoming so afraid of getting notes wrong and facing her verbal punishment, that she was no longer giving much of a voice at all.
"Louder, Christine." He growled.
She tried, her voice shaking so badly that she couldn't keep her support or pitch. The sound of that girl in the cemetery hit her hard and the feeling of losing her father was coming back. Then the memory of losing her friends came into her head as well. There was no one left with her but this man who only ever yelled at her for anything that she did.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" He retorted after her voice kept breaking, "NO! You're getting worse! You need to be able to sing in all conditions. These scales are nothing in comparison to what you need to be working on. Christine, are you listening?"
Her face was to the floor and pointed far away from him, her arms hung limply at her side. The repressed sobs in her chest were making her shoulders shake and her vision had become so blurry with tears that had not yet fallen.
"Christine!" he stood.
She turned to him, hatred in her eyes, "What? What now? I know I'm not doing it right, okay? I'm trying. Why do you have to yell at me? I've never done any of this before and you're not helping me figure out!"
Tears were leaving streaks down her face and she made no effort to remove them. His face softened and he moved closer to her to take them. She quickly shuffled away before he could, "I want to go. How do I get out of here?"
"You are not ready to leave…"
"I mean out of this room!" She squealed, "Away from you!"
Complying, he moved where the opening in the wall would be. "Come here, Christine, I will show you." She slowly crossed over to him. "There is a small rise in the carpet. It is the shape of a square. Do you see it?"
Christine looked down to see that he words were justified. He placed his leg over it and it fit under the ball of his foot. "One tap, and the wall will open and close long enough for you to pass through. Two taps and it will stay open. This will be how you will get in and out of your room to either the study or the hall, out of this room, and out of the kitchen. You remember how to get into the music room with the painting. To get out of the library you have to pull a combination of books. I have installed these measures for you, for I use my own. Do you understand?"
"Yes,"
"Try opening it, then."
Covering the square with her foot, she pushed down twice. The wall moved away without a sound.
"Good. Now go to your room. When you're ready, meet me in the study and I will show you how to cross into the kitchen for lunch."
She nodded, walked quickly through the dark hallway, and even quicker through her door.
Hello...Diary,
What's happening outside? Why don't they have power? God I wish he would just treat me like a person and tell me the truth! I've been living out there all my life, don't you think I deserve to know? He doesn't. He's always calling me dove and pet. I've started to hate that! I'm not a dove so I can't be a pet! I don't want to be a pet! Why does he have any right to be angry with me? I sang didn't I? I gave him what he wanted. He was the one being so difficult! I don't think I'm the best singer in the world, but even when I wasn't as quick to catching on to what the the more experienced singers in the program could do, I always ended by spending more hours practicing than any of them so I could catch up. And I always did! He's giving me no time and why is he so angry at me? What did I do? He captured me!
But what if I wasn't able to go to Juilliard...what would have been different? Would I ever have met Raoul or Meg? Or my voice...every since the day at the cemetery I've been working so hard to never have it sound so broken again. What happened today? It was in pieces once I left. Not that it hurt or anything, I was using my instrument correctly. This was more emotional.
Raoul...where is Raoul? What is he doing right now? Is he looking for me? Erik said that he would be going on tour...I don't know if that was true. How can I believe anything Erik says? He never tells me anything! Raoul where are you? You were always honest. You never got angry with me either. Erik is not tolerable. I don't want to be his wife! He's not nice to me!
That man this morning talking to him…. I wonder if he would help me to find Raoul? Or Meg? Either of them would help me get away from here. When will that man be here again? I know how to open doors now. If I'm careful, I think that will help. I've got to keep my attention up, that's all. I need to find a way out.
In a pursuit of any possible answers she could get from Erik, she moved to the kitchen for lunch, using the same way to open the wall in her room that she used in the Music Room. Of course, she was stopped in the study. She found him looking into the flat screen television that she first saw when she agreed to marry him. It made her shiver. On her arrival, he looked at her.
"Greetings, dove," he kept studying her even as she was glued to the screen.
"That's New York!" she said looking over the sunlit landscape. It must have been midday. She had not noticed that she had already taken a place beside him to get a closer look.
"Yes." he replied without emotion.
"Is that where we are?" her excitement was evident.
"Sometimes. Sometimes not."
"What does that mean? Are we moving?"
He shrugged. She was running out of questions and she looked to the screen to target her questions more carefully.
"Why are there no cars moving?" She asked slowly, " You said this was electrical."
"This was not simply the cutting of a few wires from a power board. This is technology that has stolen all power."
"But will it come back on? They need power!" she was growing frantic.
"Enough, Christine." she screen went dark, "You tire me with so many questions."
"But do you know?" She turned to him, "Erik, you know, don't you?"
There was a pause as he looked into her blue persistent eyes, "Yes, I know."
"Then?"
He faced her to speak, "This will be the last of your questions, understand?"
"Yes, yes."
"The power will return by mid afternoon. This was only a threat, and probably the first of many to various cities."
"But why, Erik? Why would someone do that? What do they want?" she nearly moaned.
His eyes became cold and he began to walk to the opposite bookshelves from her, where the kitchen opening would soon be. "Erik?" she said this without realizing she had reached out to the bend in his long arm. He froze at the touch, his body ceased moving so fast that Christine took her hand away quickly. He spoke without turning.
"Take this as a lesson," he spoke cold and low, trying to keep his composure, "Never touch me suddenly without my first knowing. I have been trained on how to stay alive and such actions have been associated with cruel intentions. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, shielding her hand to her chest.
"Now, let me show you the combination of books to pull."
Lunch was uneventful. She ate, he stared, not more than that happened. When she was finished he asked if he could remove her plate and such, that was all. If anything, meals, whether they happened or not, were becoming one thing she could always count on to be almost the same without as many unpleasant surprises. He then invited her to the library for the afternoon, saying that her presence made his boring books far more intriguing.
"What do you read about?" She questioned as they walked through the opening in the wall.
"Oh nothing of interest," he motioned for her to take her place on the couch, "Did you want to continue your study of Commedia? The book is where you left it."
She watched him settle into his chair, looked at the book she had been reading, then back to him. Reading wasn't really an interest of hers at that moment. She wanted to do something else, more particularly, she wanted to do something else away from him. After a few minutes of looking around, she audibly sighed, immediately regretting that her breath had any sound to it.
"Something the matter, dove?" he inquired looking up from his book, his eyes bright.
"No," she lied.
"Would you like another book?"
"No…" came her slow answer.
"What do you want, Christine? Tell me and I shall give you to you."
She thought about this for a moment. Other than her freedom and being in a separate room from him, two demands that he would never grant, was there anything that could give her a moment of relief?
"I don't want to read right now." she admitted.
He was silent and waited, wanting very much to please her. Was there anything that could take her out of this place, just for a second?
"I…I want to do something else."
"Name it and it's yours."
"But what else is there to do?" she asked in frustration, "I want to go outside!"
He was silent again and she was regretting her outburst.
"Do you enjoy films, Christine?"
"Films?" She looked up and tilted her head, "Like, movies?"
"Yes, dove." he replied kindly, enjoying her reaction.
"I...Yes?"
He chuckled a moment then said, "Then we could watch a film. Would you like to see something in particular? I don't know if my tastes would match well with yours."
She bit her lip in thought. When her choice came to her, she looked up nervously.
"I haven't seen this movie in a long time." She spoke quietly, "It was the first one I remember seeing. It was with my mom."
He waited patiently for her to finish, not wanting to feel self conscious.
"Do you know the movie Ever After? With Drew Barrymore?" She smiled beautifully and he tried to hold his composure, "I would like to see it again."
There was an odd moment where he stared at her with a silly kind of expression crossing the good side of his face. She spoke timidly, "Is, is that okay?"
He jumped up, scaring her back into the sofa, "Yes, yes of course! Whatever you wish. Come up from where you are and I'll move the sofa so you won't have to strain to see."
Christine hopped up as Erik began to arrange some settings to face the area where the TV would appear behind the books. She couldn't help herself, she really used to love this movie. She wondered if she would still love it and if she would find any new discoveries now that she was older. Her attention was not on Erik as he spoke into the remote, "Find movie. Ever After." The screen flashed to a movie poster with a description next to it.
"This is it?" he asked looking back to her.
Coming out of her daydream, she looked to him, then to the screen. Excitement overcame her, "Yes, that one!"
"Then sit down, dove. I will start it."
Nodding, she sat on the couch. Feeling her new energy, Erik fed from it, even hoped on it. She looked up to him and smiled so sweetly that he nearly lost his hold on the remote. "Play movie," he said with a dry mouth. The computer understood him nonetheless and the movie was beginning. The lights had gotten dim and she was no longer smiling to him, but curling up on the couch like some sort of cat. He shifted into the darkness beyond the reach of of the screen's light.
How perfect she looked, the light shining over her like a beam from heaven. It reminded him of the first time he saw her, but this time, her glow was from a new emotion, an emotion that she had yet to share with only him. A warmth came into his chest and at first he was uncomfortable with it, but since it did not hurt him, he let it stay. The urge to share this warmth with her, to show her that he was a human not a monster because he could feel, it was overwhelming.
He found himself standing at the arm of the couch. She had taken a cozy place on the opposite side and did not notice him immediately and once she did, she tried not to let it bother her how he stared at her. Eventually she looked up, "Did you want to sit down and watch?"
She was talking about the movie, but Erik nervously sat on the other side of her and tried to remember how to breathe. What was this wonderful feeling that made him so timid all of a sudden? He wished to share it with her, but was too afraid to interrupt her in fear that it would end. Her attention went back to the screen and he watched from the corner of his eye how a smile would cross her features and brighten up the room until it was led to a moment of uncertainty, where she would bring a hand to her mouth. She was curled up with her knees tucked into her arms. He wished that it were his arms that she was tucked up in, but he sat still.
Why was he feeling this way? He had never had a fear of touching her before, seeing as she had always been his, but agreed to be his wife as well. She always felt so soft to him, like silk or a delicate lace, but would his contact with her make her show her claws and destroy the beautiful moment that he had of her? To risk this was too much, her happiness was like magic to him, and after seeing her like this, he swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to make her happy with him, just as she was now. Beautiful.
Something about the two of them sitting casually on the couch and watching a film made in the 1990's made him feel so incredibly human. He had become so used to not being able to let his guard down when being in a room with someone else, expecting them to murder him at any second. But this girl would not do that. She had always found issues harming little bugs, even. And there she was, sitting so innocently on the couch, near careless, even with him being there. The thought of his being human made him wonder if he could take other human liberties.
As the credits began to roll, Christine sighed and lay her head on her knees. She was so content, so comfortable, and warm. For a moment she had forgotten where she was, letting her memories of childhood overcome her thoughts. It wasn't every day that she missed her mother, only because it had been so long since they had been together. She thought of her mother's golden hair and similar blue eyes. Christine always wanted to remember her as a princess, especially after she died. Maybe she would be like princess Aurora and wake up one day. That was one way of coping with death. Maybe everyone would just wake up one day.
"Christine?" She heard his voice on her right side. He was still there. She had forgotten him for those moments. She acknowledged him by tilting her head his direction, but not fulling turning it. The good feeling she felt was not ready to be let go.
"Dove, are you happy?" he asked gently.
Her answer was that of a sigh as she settled back into a more comfortable position, resting her head on the arm of the couch. He moved a small amount towards her and she felt it and leaned away. There were further moments when neither of them said anything, letting themselves simply exist in each other's space. For once, she was feeling calm. He, on the other side, was always feeling different rushes of emotion after new emotion when she was around, this time is was all anxiety. He knew what he wanted to do without having to think about it. His plan was not thought out and the future could twist in a multitude of ways, but his impulses and a fire in his stomach propelled him.
"Christine, will you look to me?" he asked timidly.
The strange note in his tone was playing with her curiosity. It reminded her of something she couldn't place, but something she could relate to from the past. With glazed over eyes, she looked to him, finding him closer than she had previously thought. His fingers fell over the tips of hers and she was going to move back to where she had been, but he spoke, and in his voice was something musical, mystifying even, "Close your eyes."
She complied and he looked down into the sweet face of his only angel. Lightly, he placed his hand below her chin and tilted it up to him. Her features tightened and he spoke softly to her, "Close your eyes, my angel." This relaxed her again. He was closer to her now, mere inches from her beautifully sculpted pink lips, the warm feel of the breath that escaped from her nose was felt on the edges of his mask. He tilted his head, just a bit, so that his mask wouldn't touch her face.
He heard a heavy foot touch the floor before she opened her eyes. Immediately, he was standing, his right arm extended. The gun he held was too small for Christine to see behind his hand, but Khan knew exactly what mistake he had made. Khan looked to the girl on the couch, this being the first time he had been seen by her. Her wide blue eyes exhibited shock at the sight of him. He looked back to Erik and raised his hands to stop him.
"Erik-"
"Out." he growled.
"I'll come back later just-"
"OUT!"
Once the loose objects in the room lost the tiny shake that Erik's booming voice had caused, Khan heard a tiny voice murmur, "Wait."
A nice long fluffy chapter for your snow days, eh? Give me your thoughts!