Entires 31-34

Entry 31

I feel that you, dear thought keeper, are the only one I may share my feelings with. I have been here only five days and even as I seem to never be out of my husband's gaze, I am so excruciatingly lonely. Sometimes I feel as if the walls are closing in on me. It's always either too hot or too cold and I am never comfortable. When it is too cold the air I breath is dry and painful and when it is too hot I want to melt on every exhale. I have wondered if I had a fever. I have been weak ever since having fallen into the lake. There are times when Erik insists upon wrapping me in furs and quilts even when there is a fire going. He has taken an interest in preparing all of my meals and forcing me to eat every crumb from my plate. My days are planned out. Everything is planned out. And my life is no longer my own.

Sometimes, just before I lose myself to sleep, I think about the last time I saw my dear Raoul. He was tearfully watching me sing and I was falling apart. How I needed him to be strong for me! How I wished he would smile and respectfully accept my forced rejection! His feelings for me only make everything worse. They give me a terrible and vain hope that things might be different one day or perhaps could have been different in another order of life. Images of us together swirl in my head in my most private of times and lead me into the most restless of dreams.

One evening, I dreamed that Raoul and I were children playing by the seashore. I ran through the sand barefoot with my red scarf flying high in my hand like a flag. I ran so fast that I tripped, letting my scarf loose into the wind. When I stood up from the ground, I was plunged into the cellars of the Opera and was looking out onto the lake. Raoul, still in child form, ran out and was ready to plunge into the lake to where my red scarf floated innocently on the surface in the middle of the bluish green water. Knowing how cold it was in the water, I called out to him, but he didn't hear me. He plunged in, made his way to my scarf, but as soon as he seized it, it appeared to become the weight of something far greater. Raoul disappeared under the water and his yell of terror echoed around the chambers. I crawled to the water's edge to see if I could spot him. I cried his name in vain as I stood up to gain a better view. A presence could be felt behind me and I turned about to face the chilling cold black profile of Erik with glowing, fiery eyes. I whimpered his name helplessly. In response, he pushed my chest with one swift blow. I fell back into the water and sank faster than I remembered. Then all was black.

Ironically, I woke up from this dream coughing as if I had managed to catch water in my lungs within reality. I coughed and hacked until I wound up sobbing and curled up around a pillow in my lonely bed. This was how Erik found me. It turned out to be early in the morning and rather than keeping the room dark, he brought in a candle and set it on the nightstand. Without words, he placed a cool bare hand on my forehead and held it there to check my temperature. The coolness of his hand quieted me a little but did not stir me from my crumpled position. After having pulled his hand away, he sat beside me and smoothed the tangled hair from my face.

"Are you going to tell me what is the matter?" he asked quietly after I had begun to breathe steadily again.

Fresh tears emerged and I brushed them away hastily, "Would you push me in the lake, Erik? Would you do that even if you were cross with me?"

He sighed and replied softly, "No darling, I would not. Your swimming is detestable."

Knowing he meant his last statement as one of his dark humored jokes, I smiled a little. Only a little.

"Did you dream that?" he asked quietly.

I nodded once and he sighed again. He took a moment to settle himself up against the headboard before steadily pulling me up to rest against his chest. My body was limp and weak from the struggle of my dream and I relaxed into his boney chest far more easily than I had in the past. He held me for a little while with his long arms wrapped around my shoulders and waist. The weight of his head lightly pressed against the top of mine before he spoke.

"Do you believe I would let you drown?" He asked softly.

I wasn't certain how to answer him. I was already five cellars under the opera with no one or nothing beyond music, books, and cross-stitching to remind me that there was life going on above us. It felt like drowning. Raoul had already drowned in pursuit of something that was not what it appeared to be and I sat on the shore knowing that there was nothing to stop his pointless pursuit except to watch it happen and fail. And if Erik knew my thoughts he would surely make things even worse than they already were. Erik was drowning me. Was he so daft to not see it?

Seeing into my thoughts without my direct answer, Erik spoke again, "What you fail to realize is that you are not drowning, my dear. I am not the one to keep you here like this. You are."

I sat up and looked up at him. At first, I was ready to report his bias observation with cruel words, but when I saw his eyes I shivered and looked away in defeat, "But you are keeping me here." I said brokenly, "You said you wouldn't let me go."

"And what husband who had such a lovely wife ever would?" His tone made me look up with curious interest, "I need assurance that you would return to me and obey what I ask you to do, Christine. Your doubt in me is what keeps you locked away. I daresay I am only a messenger here."

Assurance. He was asking for assurance. I quickly poured over the word with new fervor. I realized I was going about everything incorrectly. I could not simply run away, I needed him to let me go and turn a blind eye to me if only for a few hours. Then I would be free. Then I could follow through with my original plans. But how could I give him assurance? How was I supposed to change a schedule I never had any power over? My mind ran through options until I locked uncertain eyes with him.

Erik was a man and my husband. Despite everything, he was still very much a man. I realized that such intimate attentions had only ever started from him. Everything concerning the marriage, the lessons, everything I knew of our relationship started with him…but what if, just for once, it were to start with me? Would that be what could change my predicament? Not fully thinking my actions through or what negative repercussions that could conspire, I slowly lifted my hands to his mask. I rested them there on his faux cheeks for a moment and he looked at me very skeptically until I gently lifted the leather from his face and set it on the nightstand.

Before me was certainly the ugliest man in the world and yet, it was growing harder for me to truly see that. I was beginning to see Erik for all his complexities as a man, a ghost, and a husband. I placed my hands over his real cheeks as I had just a moment before and let them stay there. He revealed a fragment of his demeanor as he let a shaky exhale escape him. Suddenly, I began to understand what assurance was. I began to understand that he wanted me to seek him rather than it only ever being him trailing after me. The realization of what I needed to do was both terrifying and empowering. I brought my face very close to his and our breath mingled somewhat audibly with each other's and I was sure my heart would pound straight out of my chest. He sat still as if in shock as his eyes moved uncertainly from my eyes to my lips. Finally knowing his thoughts, I closed the small gap between us and kissed him fully on his very thin lips.

As soon as I made the initiation, he responded immediately by wrapping his arms around me and crushing me to him. I believe I have mentioned before that when kissing him, he does not possess thick enough lips that one may be able to pucker and move with, but in the time I have been married to him, he has certainly become bolder in learning what he is capable of despite his disadvantage. He is not the sort of man to simply accept a sort of handicap and simply let it be. Far from it. He revels in his differences whenever he can. It's like an odd challenge for him. He knows he will never be normal, and yet, he works too hard to make himself believe otherwise when it comes to me.

As one arm pulled the small of my back into him, his other hand curled into the back of my head and pushed me somehow closer to him. My lower lip was sucked into his mouth and held lightly by his teeth as he slowly slid his tongue across it. The sensation quickly transpired to the feelings he produced when he was last so close to my womanhood. I could not withhold the shiver and small moan that escaped me.

My reaction encouraged him further. I was no longer in control and I no longer wanted to be. The candle was extinguished and I was being led to my back. He continued to kiss me and I found myself so much more open to what he wanted to do to me that my arms wrapped around his neck to keep him closer. I don't know if I can properly describe just how much of a relief it was to turn away from my dreadful thoughts of existence and let my body give in to whatever it wanted. One of his hands moved to my womanhood and cupped it possessively. Rather than shy away, I pressed into him and begged him with my body to give me what I craved.

I felt his fingers run in slow circles over my womanhood as his lips moved their way down my neck. An audible sigh escaped from my lips and my back unconsciously arched into him. The reaction made him stop and look down at me. For too long, I lay in terrified wonder that I had done something wrong to displease him. My breathing slowed and my eyes grew wide. He eventually spoke, "Tell me what I want to hear, Christine. Say it."

My mind ran and tried to find whatever he wanted to know so that he would keep going. I felt like I was in a long hallway with too many doors, grabbing at each handle only to find it locked. I gulped and said the only words that made sense to the situation, "Erik I…I want you. Don't stop?" He continued the movements of his hand and I shivered again as he lifted my chemise up to my hips. "Don't stop," I whispered feeling they were the only words I knew.

My hands curled into the comforter for he was too far away. The sound of clothes hitting the floor was heard and forgotten once he brought his hips closer to mine. He held each other's eyes for a while as if in awe of what was possible. My hand took a mind of its own and the curiosity to feel what made him a man overwhelmed my thoughts. I slid across his protruding hip and he was deathly still. My hand met his manhood and I gasped in my small understanding of what he placed within me during such times. He shuttered as I closed my hand around him. I moved my hand just a bit and he groaned. Knowing where his hand lay over my own sex, I moved mine to meet it. He entertained our fingers and pressed my hand into the mattress. Nothing happened for a moment as he held each other's eyes. My body felt as if it would burn up and cease to function if something wasn't done to relieve it. I whimpered, "Erik, please."

He leaned forward and took my lips quickly. When I did feel him inside me, I moaned into his mouth and arched my chest into his. The feeling within me grew as he persisted in moving to meet it. He never moved from my lips and when I finally released the sound I emitted would be rather embarrassing if I were to ever hear it come from me in any other context. He met my feeling and groaned long and loud before pulling from me.

We lay beside one another for a little while simply listening to our heavy breaths fill the room. My body was more relaxed than I ever remembered it being and I was ready to stay there for the rest of the day. Eventually, Erik moved from the bed and went to the bathroom. I heard him drawing water in the bathtub and looked up. When he returned he gently kissed me on the forehead, told me he adored me forever, and that breakfast would be ready in half an hour.

And that, dear thought keeper, was how I slowly began to change my position in his world.

Entry 32

I am all too clearly playing with fire. Four days have passed since I last wrote and my emotions are just as much of a mountainous landscape as Erik's are. It has been almost too easy to give into my body when I feel an urge to repeat what I last wrote There is a sort of power I feel whenever I am able to stop him from just about anything he is doing to change his plans until I am satisfied. In another world, my feelings would be scandalous, but in this world where I am trapped under the surface until further notice, I will do however I wish for as long as he allows it.

Up until my last entry (which was written the afternoon of that same day's encounter), all of our time spent in such a way was separated by a natural evening of sleep. This day was different because after I had taken a bath, I joined him for breakfast. To be honest, it was a terribly awkward affair. He had prepared an assortment of fruit, cheese, and bread with hot tea and lemon then chose to sit with me as I ate rather than find another matter to otherwise fill his time. As our relationship had become soured since the incident at the opera, he had not sat with me for hardly any of my meals. Our conversation was strained as I couldn't seem to think of anything besides what had been done only a half hour before. What was worse was that I couldn't seem to stop blushing. He was friendly, patient, and almost seemed equally shy in response when I would blush.

He thought it would be a better use of our time if he were to play the piano for me during the time of our usual lesson. I was grateful for the opportunity to simply sit and listen rather than have further, potentially more embarrassing conversation with him over a lesson. he left me to have luncheon on my own as he said he had some paperwork to attend to. I didn't question him. That afternoon, we sat across from one another in the Drawing Room. I had a book in my hands that I couldn't seem to focus on and he seemed to mirror this for he kept catching my eye. The first two or three times this happened I quickly tried to disappear back into my book. The feeling of heat seemed relentless upon my cheeks. I wondered if it was more my doing or his that we kept catching each other in such strange ways. Eventually, I shut my book, looked up to him and asked what he was reading.

"Mir v Tselom," he responded out of civility alone.

I waited a moment then asked, "Who is it written by?"

He looked up from the book this time, "Nikolay Nikolayevich Strakhov."

My stare was blank for a moment, "Is he Russian?"

Erik blinked, "Yes."

"Do you like his book?"

"I do not know."

"Why not?"

"I do not possess the skill of reading and answering the inquisitive questions of my wife simultaneously."

I looked down a little embarrassed, "Oh,"

My next couple of minutes were spent looking around the room as if lost. With a heavy sigh, Erik marked his page and put the book on the side table. I looked up attentively, "What is it you wish of me, Christine?"

In truth, I had no idea, at least not entirely. Why couldn't I focus and carry out the afternoon as I had the day before? The word assurance was continuously replaying in my head. Could it possibly mean more than what I had hoped to display that morning? Of course, it did. Assurance was not something to be gained in so short a time. I decided upon a path and went about trying it out to see what would come of it.

With eyes cast down and hands wringing in my lap, I spoke sheepishly, "It's not a significant request…"

"What is it, Christine?" I could hear the strain of his patience was being tested.

"It's just that, well, I feel a headache coming on…"

He sat up a little, but was clearly suspicious of my behavior, "Would you like for me to prepare tea?"

"No, well, maybe later."

"Then what would you have me do?" he snapped crossing his arms.

The heat on my cheeks grew and I clutched at my dress a little, "I was wondering if it wouldn't be too forward to ask to sit by you…and if you wouldn't mind, well, if it wouldn't be too imposing to ask you to run your fingers through my hair?"

There was a long ugly silence that turned my feelings of power into true shame and self-loathing. What if he was truly insulted by my request? What if such things were only acceptable from him when he wanted to initiate them? I gulped and finally looked up. He was still as if dead. I was sure I had crossed a line, sure that everything I thought I had been doing correctly was now tattered and broken, but then I heard him whisper the faintest reply, "Of course,"

I beamed and made my way to sit in front of him on the floor. As soon as he realized what I was doing, he tried to stand, "You will not sit on the floor-"

"It's alright, I promise," I said looking up to him with as kind an expression I could. I continued to speak as I rested my head on his knee, "I don't want to bother you to get up. I just wanted a little relief for a moment. Thank you, Erik."

Even though he did not move for an awkward amount of time, I stayed still with my head resting on him. In time, I heard him clear his throat a little just before placing a hand on the side of my head and running it slowly to my shoulder. I sighed contentedly and we wordlessly stayed that way until supper.

For that evening I poured over what I could do to further win assurance with him. If I was being honest with myself, it wasn't entirely about my freedom either. I was naturally curious what sort of things I could request him to do for me without repercussion. Our physical interactions were no longer as frightening and far from painful anymore. The idea of us sharing intimacies was now only refrained by my fears that he might have murdered people, but if I could push that from my head up until I was trusted to go out on my own, I found that it might be possible to try and enjoy my internment as much as I could. Oh God may you forgive me one day for continuously straying so far from my morals in order to stay content and be free one day!

By mid evening, I had already been sent to bed and settled into my nightdress. I lay awake for a long time thinking of what next I could do to further assure him of trusting me. When I finally made my way out to the hall, I found him rapidly scribbling something at a secretary in the Study. From the doorway, I watched as his quill moved almost frantically along the page with his mysterious red ink. He wrote with the light of a mere candle and had discarded his mask to the top of the secretary. Finishing what looked to be a letter, he sat up straight and sighed before sealing fanning out the page and finally sealing it with a wax seal. When I cleared my throat he stood suddenly and turned to me.

Realizing it was me, he relaxed and reached for his mask. I stopped him, "You don't have to replace it."

He sighed again and kept his head low, "What is it, Christine?"

"I…" One of my hands reached across me to hold my elbow uncomfortably. It was not easy being so forward even if it was what I wanted and wasn't completely a lie. My brain ran from my original reasoning for being out there and I asked, "What were you writing?"

"It's business," he replied shortly, "Do you require a glass of water?"

"No," I replied quietly.

"Then what do you want of me this late hour? There is plenty to be completed before you wake up tomorrow."

"Oh…" I said looking down feeling a bit shattered that he had already rejected me, "I didn't realize you would be working. I'll go back to bed."

I took a step down the hall and stopped when I heard him call my name. When I turned around I found he had made his way across the room to stand closer to me. He spoke again, this time with more care in his tone, "Tell me what you came out here for. Are you hungry?"

"No,"

He sighed, "You want something. Must I guess?"

"No," I answered again.

When I did not speak again, he reached out and placed a hand over my forearm and asked, "Tell me?"

"Do you promise not to be angry with me?"

He paused for a moment then answered, "I promise not to push you into the lake if that's what you mean."

Angrily, I looked up to face him only to find he wore a smirk on his face. He was joking. He wasn't trying to be cruel. I lowered my defenses and took a breath, "I was having trouble getting to sleep and I was wondering if you might come and sing to me."

He sighed and shook his head, "Is that all you came out to ask for?"

"I don't want to waste your time…"

"Nonsense," He replied kindly.

As I led the way back to my bedroom I couldn't help but smile sheepishly. I stopped before getting into bed as thoughts of the last time he was in that room with me began to cross my mind. Forcing them away, I looked halfway back to him and requested he sit with me until I was truly asleep. He nodded in reply. Once under the comforter, I moved over a bit and waited for him to sit beside me. He appeared rather unsure of how I wanted him to continue so I patted the spot close to the headboard where he sat that morning. He tensed, but then followed through to allow me to curl up next to him. I could faintly hear his fast paced heart in his chest as he embraced me both in body and song. The feeling was lovely and I smiled at him as I drifted off into sleep.

Entry 33

I have come to appreciate my scarce times to write more and more. In summary, more days were spent in my requesting a small physical gesture of kindness from him. He always followed through without hesitation and I eventually grew even bolder. While I believe he was skeptical, I also noticed his patience was growing. It was as if my requesting him physically did something calming for him mentally. I took this as a positive thing. It's been ten days since I first came here and in such a short period we have shared intimacy three times.

The first of these times I have already written of. I blush to rethink of the details. Oh, my shame if anyone were to read this! Such things I cannot think of or I would continuously bottle up all feelings. That would serve no advances either. The second time we shared a bed was in the late afternoon. He had built a fire and I had invited him to sit along side me on the sofa rather than across from me in his chair. He easily complied and sat on the far end from me. I smirked at this but continued my reading. In time I asked if I might lay down. He began to stand and I shook my head. Before he could rise I took his hand and he froze. I smiled kindly and encouragingly until he stilled. Then I lay my head on his leg and looked up at him.

To say he was uncomfortable with this was an understatement. It appeared to me that he may have not even been breathing. He glanced down a few times but then always looked up quickly. I had thought that such an act would make him happy. This was assurance, right? My smile turned downward rather quickly and my brow became knitted. What was I doing wrong? I tried to engage him in being attentive to me and asked if he would tell me a story. He cleared his throat and replied as if strained, "Perhaps another time."

I pouted and looked away. The silence filled the room and my thoughts became darker. What if I was going about this all wrong? What if all the power and control I had built was all in my head? Was I actually crazy? My own personal rabbit hole was endless and Erik was still and firm as a statue. I eventually stood and crossed my arms, "If you don't want me to be with you, you should say so!"

I could see Erik's hands balled into fists around the arm of the sofa and cushion. Was he angry at me? Why wasn't he speaking? I heard him sigh audibly. He stared directly before him, refusing to meet my eyes. I stood as defiantly as I could muster until the pain of rejection slapped me down with cruel force. Tears pricked my eyes and I finally said over the lump in my throat, "Well…Well, fine. I'll go."

Before I could turn on my heal to leave he clearly said my name through his teeth. I turned back and saw him slowly turn his face to me. "I want you to be with me. You fail to realize how much I want."

When I realized his meaning, my eyes went wide. Heat began to rise on my neck and cheeks and I covered my mouth with my hand. "Oh," was all I could seem to say. Our terrible silence continued and I eventually said, "I'm sorry. That wasn't what I…I didn't mean to…I'm sorry."

"If sorrow is all you feel then you may leave," he said dejectedly.

At long last, I could relate to how he was feeling. It was the same way I felt when I thought he didn't want me. Was I so awful? To cause such feelings and response from a man only to deny him? How awful I was to tease even if I had not meant to! Besides, it wasn't that I was sorry for him feeling in such a way. I was apologetic that I had given him such a reaction by my idiocy and short-sightedness! I walked back to him and sat next to him.

"You misunderstand me," I spoke softly, "It was not my intention to…" I looked down in embarrassment as I tried to find the correct words, "To cause you discomfort."

"Perhaps it is discomfort that I cause you?" he spit back.

His accusation baffled and stunned me. Before my mind could override, my body seemed to speak for me, "You do not…cause me…discomfort."

Then I was the one who sat as a stone might with my hands balled into my skirts and my eyes cast down. He called my name and I could hear the tiniest gleamer of hope in his tone. I looked up. We merely held each other's eyes until I moved to remove his mask. I must admit that for once I am grateful that we do not host any visitors. Our actions became rather hasty and our further consummation was carried out right there on the sofa. For the most part, my clothes remained on as I imagine his did. The fire burned out too quickly to have been natural and we were plunged into familiar darkness.

I must say, it was odd to share intimacy on a surface that was not a bed. There was far less room and Erik took to positioning me differently than he had in the past. After he had freed me from my lowest set of undergarments, he sat down with his feet flat on the floor, picked me up, and set me on top of him. I was so shocked at the difference that I could not move at first. He reached his hands up into my skirts and led my hips to move above him. I daresay the new position was one I rather enjoyed and eventually took to moving on my own without his assistance. As I began to feel him swell within me, he took my torso into his arms and crushed his face into the crook of my neck. For a quick moment, I thought he may have bitten me just a little. Oddly enough, I didn't mind what I would have so normally considered shocking and a little painful. Before he finished, he made a mind to lift me enough before sharing his seed. I fell to him and he embraced me before sending me to clean. I could hear the contented sighs of him saying my name over and over in my mind for the next hour or so and I beamed.

Now that I am older and aware, I wonder if other couples do the same kinds of things in similar shared spaces. Even worse, I wondered if such actions have happened on furniture and set pieces at the opera. I'm a little horrified at the thought. Some weeks ago I would have tried to stop him from making such advances on the sofa in the Drawing Room. That particular day I seemed to have stopped caring. It's a bit of a relief to no longer care so much.

Entry 34

This morning Erik suggested that it would be good for me to get out of the apartment for an hour or so. He proposed a walk around the lake and I couldn't have been more elated. This was progress! My efforts were proving to not be in vain! I excitedly agreed and all but ran to retrieve the fur coat he had purchased for me a few weeks prior. As we left the apartment and went out into the cold cellars, I wrapped my arm in his and chose to walk as close to him as possible. I wanted him to see how grateful I was and that I wasn't looking to run. I wanted him to know that he had nothing to worry about. And…I was cold. Even in my fur coat. He has poor circulation, but even he was warmer than the cold air that I caught sight of my breath in. If I could simply remove myself from the dark stone cellar, that I was actually inside and not out, and that my husband was less of a recluse, I could almost imagine that such an act was normal for a couple to be doing. We spoke of casual topics, many of which encompassed travels and different sights we had witnessed. I enjoyed such conversation. It was easy and even made me happy to discuss.

After luncheon, I reiterated how thankful I was for him having taken me out on the walk. He waved away my gratitude, but I took his hand and told him that I had enjoyed our conversation and wished to travel again if he were not opposed to the effort. He told me that he would go wherever I wanted. I suppose you could say one compliment led to another until my back was against the wall and he was continuing his admiration physically. I feel as if I have made such strides in my intimacy if that is not too awful to say? I appreciate that we still do not speak of such matters. They just happen I guess. Still, I am no longer opposed in the least. More often than not, I am excited and ready to learn what sort of new aspect of this area in our marriage he wants to try. He is the type of man who wants to excel in whatever he decides is most prominent at the time. I take a bit of secret pride in understanding that his current education is my physical desires.

I feel my efforts are far from in vain for tonight he has promised to take me on a carriage ride through the city. I can't help but smile at my small achievement.

A/N: Well folks, what goes up must come down. I hope you enjoyed their bits of marital fireworks because all you Leroux folks know what's about to happen with the carriage ride. *rubs hands together and prepares to actually advance the plot*

If you liked how fast this chapter came out, you can thank my reviewers from the last chapter: cotesgoat, "Guest", ArtemisBare , madiamazing , Mominator124 , , Silver Tallest , Child of Dreams , MyNina , and It-is-I-a-Simple-Bagel . Seriously. Thank you. Your encouragement to keep me writing is so wonderful. Thank you :)

Remember we FF writers write and post in hopes that people read, review, follow and favorite our work. I'll keep writing for you so long as I know you're out there!