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Chapter 12: Sins
"Finally, another lesson. I'm afraid we may find ourselves out of the habit," Caressa told Erik before she began her vocal exercises. The nightmare she'd had a few nights prior made her wary of herself more than of Erik. Because her depressed manner affected everything she did, she took caution in being kind to everyone.
When Caressa and Erik decided to have a lesson, she simply told Christophe that her tutor would be coming. Matteo kindly volunteered to bring him with the rest of the stagehands where they were making adjustments to set pieces backstage.
"You should go get a glass of water, your throat is dry," Erik suggested while sitting in his chair.
"All right." And she went to do as he'd asked.
"How much longer is Christophe going to be staying?" Erik asked; needing to know how much longer he would have to skulk around.
Once she had finally finished her small glass of water she replied sheepishly, "Oh, I—I—was thinking about that just yesterday. I was really mulling it over a lot. And—You see—Heinrich is always extremely busy, and he will be away so much that..." She paused and bit her lip. "Perhaps Christophe could stay here, with me?" She whispered.
"That is out of the question! We already have to sneak about like dogs to get a lesson in. Do you want to have to do that forever?" He barked at her.
"Christophe has already met you, and he liked you, I know it. We are not 'sneaking about' at all. He would have stayed for the lesson if Matteo hadn't invited him out for the day," she explained, assuming it would calm him.
"You're right, darling," he spat, "Why wouldn't he take to me? I'm a charming fellow, am I not?" Caressa normally would have laughed at this, however the look in his eyes told her it wasn't a comical query. That morning was not one of his better days. He continued, "I suppose though, if the boy does discover who I truly am..." In some way she knew his next comment would sting. "... It's not as if he could tell anyone."
Caressa swallowed, and remained silent. He could have threatened her, insulted her, or hit her for saying what she had. However, speaking of her brother in such a manner was something she would not tolerate.
As if a veil had lifted, Erik realized what he had said. "I—" He stood and walked toward her. "That wasn't right, even for... Forgi—"
"Go..." She whispered it, but it rang out clearly. With her eyes cast down, she pointed at the mirror. "I told you to go."
"Please, liste—" He started.
"If you insist that we are 'sneaking about like dogs,' I suggest you go back to your home, canine," she spoke with great intensity, like that of a strong, sure woman. Never wavering, her finger still pointed at the mirror.
Erik began walking to the mirror. He indeed felt like a dog, poking fun at a boy's disability. He found it ironically foolish. After he passed through the glass, he watched her.
The mirror closed and she slumped to the floor. All she could do was shake violently, rocking back and forth. Someone was holding her suddenly, and she gasped, "Why? Why did you say that?" She cried into her master's chest.
"I was being foolish. I swear that I had never meant to say it. Your brother is a wonderful boy." He lightly kissed her head at this.
"He is a wonderful boy," she assured him.
"Yes, and he's a likable boy," he told the girl as she slowly lost her depressed aura.
"You've taken to him," she told him.
"Yes, yes, and you say he's taken to me," he reminded her as her last sobs ended.
"Yes, he can stay," she informed him stiffly.
"He can stay," he repeated, bestowing his consent without realizing it.
"Oh! Truly! Thank you, master! You won't regret this! But I never want to hear another cruel joke about him." Her companion contemplated where she had begun in tricking him.
"You are the Devil. Do you know that?" He asked her before she started laughing.
"Come now, we really should begin the lesson, I believe you've properly apologized." They stood and began.
They ran through the songs for the night's opera. All of which were satisfactory.
"Satisfactory? Master, am I that terrible?" She wondered in worry.
"No, no. The one thing you lack is understandable," he attempted to placate her woe; he did not succeed.
"The performance is tonight, if I'm doing something wrong, fix it! I am not a vain being, however do not wish to look a fool before all of Parisian society," she pleaded.
"If your reputation as a virtuous girl means anything to you, it doesn't matter." Erik hadn't realized he would get himself into an awkward position when he spoke the simple word 'satisfactory.'
"Please? Please tell me? Please, I'll be perfect, just for you." She gave him a sweet pout that he couldn't deny.
Giving in, he took her hand and pulled her close. Out of breath at the unforeseen action, she was gasping slightly. Her eyes found his in a questioning glance.
"Do you know what Carmen is?" He began explaining.
"An opera..."
"No, the character of Carmen. Do you know what she is?"
"... A gypsy..." He shook his head at her answer. "... A cigarette factory employee..." Once again she was wrong. "No? Then, er—A woman?"
"Carmen is a harlot! A flaunting, gypsy whore," He finally explained. "All she does the entire opera is entice every male she sees. She is meant to be lust incarnate. She is wanted, but so fluid that no man can hold her. That is what you lack." Embarrassed and flustered, he sat in his chair.
"So... You're saying that I can't be a good whore?" As she asked this he was shocked into silence for a moment.
"You're not meant to act like a 'whore.' The audience will interpret that your character is a whore no matter how you play it. You come off as a kindly, sweet whore. The role is usually played with sensuality," he informed her.
"You're my tutor, teach me how to play the role with sensuality," she begged him, imitating his voice as she said 'sensuality'.
Erik put his head in his hand; he was blushing and he knew it. There was a tug at his trouser's leg. When he looked down she was sitting there on her knees.
"Master, are you quite all right?" She asked with bashful concern.
"Come." He stood up and took her with him. "Show me arabesque penchée," he ordered her while tapping her thigh.
"Uh…" She stammered and looked down at her ballet skirt.
"Go on, I've seen your bare skin before. What are those tights to my eyes?" He tapped her thigh again, "Arabesque penchée."
A moment later, Caressa was staring up at him from her new position. One leg was raised high in the air in a solid vertical split. "May I inquire as to why you've suddenly turned into Madame Giry? Don't tell me, you've been the same person all along!" Caressa gasped with feigned shock.
"My dear girl. . ." He stared at her body in astonishment. She balanced without a waver, and she had slid her legs into position so fluidly it was as if she were in water. "Sometimes I forget you are the most prodigious ballerina ever to cross this stage." Erik sank on his knees to bring himself to her eye level.
"It puts my singing into perspective, I suppose," she joked. He glanced up darkly and she clearly saw that he was not amused.
"To the lesson," he reminded her, and began running his hands along her ankle. This caused her to waver for a moment, but she held her position. His hands glided up her calf and around her knee; her breath quickened, as his hands did not stop their ascent. He stared at her while stroking her thighs and her body began to tremble.
When he had reached her innermost thigh, he removed his hands and began stroking downwards on her extended leg.
"Erik…?" She whimpered softly.
"Relax and quiet yourself while your master examines you," he scolded her with a slight clicking of his tongue.
Caressa could only see Erik's legs while he stood behind her, and she was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable by not knowing what he was up to. His hands reached the bottom of her extended leg and he paused. Caressa could feel gooseflesh sprouting on her arms when he stiffened.
Without warning, Erik cupped his left hand firmly upon her groin and situated his right arm behind her. Caressa jerked violently off of her foot and fell limply against Erik's right arm; he caught her and held most of her weight. Her supporting foot brushed the carpet lazily. When Erik looked down at her, she was exasperated and gasping for breath.
"What is the meaning of this?" She scolded him, attempting to tear away.
He laughed. "You don't become half so offended when Francois Dupont holds and touches you so," Erik reminded her as he released her.
"Francois is an actor, that is when we act," she countered.
Erik was ready with a retort, "So, you can't act with me?"
Caressa sighed, "It's not the same when I'm with you." Once this admission had left her lips, her eyes grew wide and she slightly turned away.
"Why?" He stepped toward her, "Why isn't it the same?"
"I don't know." She paused. "It feels different when someone you care about touches you from when someone you work with touches you. When you touched me so, it was. . . close."
"'Close'?" Erik believed that from the dark tone in her voice that she was beginning to understand his lesson.
"It will seem silly, but you and I are much closer than Francois and myself. You affect me more than he does. Well, he doesn't affect me at all, but my body shook with something that seemed dangerous a few moments ago. Your touch is like something much more forbidden," she sighed heavily and looked down. "I become so affected, when you get so. . . close."
"Don't you see? That is what you lack: something dangerous and forbidden." Erik's stomach tightened when Caressa explained the sensations she received at his touch. "There is a quality that Carmen should possess, something that is ethereal, primal and dark."
"Oh..." Caressa whispered breathlessly," I see... The lesson is to feel that danger? To project that danger? I want to affect Francois the way you affected me just now?"
He said nothing.
"Master? Is that the lesson?" She asked again.
"You need to feel it, and you need to make the audience feel it," he replied passionately. "And now you will try, so that I may assess what you have learned."
"Try what? To seduce you?" She blurted. Her head fell back and she giggled.
"Yes, don't be too obnoxious." He smiled. "If you would please stand up."
"What am I supposed to do now? This is silly," she ranted.
Erik remained silent and looked across the room.
"Fine," she assented. After a moment of thought, she returned to her former arabesque penchée position and peered up at him while wiggling her nose.
He was unamused.
She sighed in exasperation and returned to first position. "Close your eyes, I wont be so embarrassed," she whispered to him. When he had obeyed her, she led him backwards until he fell back into his chair.
A moment later Erik felt something land across his left shoulder. Then Caressa began singing Habanera softly in his ear. He opened his eyes and saw that her right thigh was against his shoulder while her left leg supported her; she was performing a front split over him. Her body was bent close to his as she sang to him. As he watched she removed her leg and went into attitude, with her right leg bent behind her. She swept her leg in front of her body and raised it toward the ceiling; her arms wrapped around the leg as if it were a lover as she continued to sing. Erik wanted to remind her that she would need to be a singer over a ballerina that night, but he could not find it in himself to interrupt her. She turned slowly on her left leg, reminding Erik of a sensual music box figurine. He felt himself become warm, and he could feel every beat of his heart in his chest. But it was the stirring beneath his waist that caused him to panic.
"Caressa, you may stop that now!" Erik nearly shouted. She stopped abruptly and stared at him with expectant eyes. "You surprise me with your powers of seduction, Caressa. I found it difficult not to respond." His eyes were on fire as he stared at her.
Her cheeks blushed bright red. "I did as you asked; I wish only to make you prideful of your skills as a master."
"And I am proud. Though I must admit that Madame Giry has much to do with your... abilities. I have only seen the like of such talents in India, when I was a much younger man." He coughed and finally found himself decent to stand. He took her hand and nodded, "I believe that you are ready to seduce Paris."
"Thank you, master. You know, it's strange that I've gone from despising you to holding your hand all in one morning. I suppose that it's my mercurial sensibility." She laughed. "I think my performance tonight will be my best ever. Thanks to you..."
He let her hands go.
"All right. I've got to be heading to rehearsal. If you could please help me into my costume for the night I shall be settled." They quickly worked together to dress her in the garment.
"Caressa, I can be there for the performance... With Christophe in Box 5, but then I must leave. There is business I must attend to tonight. Once I return I shall give you my review. Now go!" He rushed her out the door and remained for a few moments, catching his breath as he recalled Caressa's movements.
Rehearsal was going splendidly until performance time; when everyone's wardrobe was malfunctioning and props weren't holding together. Though as with the previous performances the actors, costumers and stagehands carried it off, as did the wonderful orchestra.
The audience laughed when they were meant to, cried when then were meant to, and gasped when they were meant to. Through it all Caressa transformed on stage. From an innocent, delicate young girl into a passionate, lustful young woman. Francois Dupont, the actor performing the role of Don José, immediately noticed the change in his partner. At first, he was taken aback and quite unsure how to respond to her reinvention, but he found himself as drawn toward her as the audience had been. He had grasped her hands during the intermission and proclaimed her transformed. After the curtain had closed, she reformed back from Carmen to herself. The performance had brought down the house, not literally, of course.
Caressa swiftly gave thanks to all of the congratulations. Only once did she stop to chat with Jacqueline and Reinette, and then she returned to her room. Christophe was waiting there with Madame Giry.
"You were so very wonderful, Caressa. Beautiful!" Giry exclaimed while embracing her.
Christophe embraced her as well, smiling all the while.
"Did you like it? Hmm?" His sister wondered.
He nodded while grinning with pride.
Giry butted in, "I'm glad you liked it Christophe, however Caressa, is there anything that you would like me to tell the papers?"
"Whatever you like," The girl answered.
Madame Giry nodded slowly as she began to exit the room. She turned back as she reached the door. "You know that you will have to give interviews eventually? Good night." With that, Madame Giry left the room.
"Now, I know you liked it, but how did Master Erik seem to enjoy it?" She attempted to shove her impatience on Christophe.
Her brother imitated someone drooling, then laughed soundlessly.
"How charming. So... I'm exhausted, what about you?" Caressa asked her deeply sleep-deprived brother.
Christophe fell back on the bed.
"Yes, that sounds about right." After changing into her night clothes, Caressa fell onto the bed next to her brother. "Hmm... I can barely keep my eyes open. Put out the light if you please." Her brother did as she requested and they both fell fast asleep.
"Psst—Hello... Caressa..." A voice whispered, interrupting the girl's rest.
"Hmmm...?" Caressa sighed, hardly awake.
"Wake up, sleepy girl," a man's voice softly said to her.
"E... rik... I'm sleeping," she whined.
The man grunted, "Can't even wake up to see your big brother?" The girl's eyes flew open at this. "I suppose I should just leave then." He began walking to the door.
"Heinrich! Wait! I don't want you to go. Stay, please?" She whispered forcefully at him.
Caressa crawled from bed and went to her older brother's side. "Caressa, the reason I've come here is rather urgent. It requires immediate attention." He paused, "But it's difficult to discuss. The topic is finances." For a time he looked away from her, off into the darkness.
"Whatever it is, tell me," Caressa ordered.
"Oh, Christ—" Heinrich struggled to explain. "—I'm living out of the back room in the shop. I had to rent out my flat above it. God, I'm in the worst way for money. The shop is going under. I can't feed myself, let alone Christophe. And I simply don't know what to do." He stopped, appearing broken.
"The shop always made money before..." Caressa began.
"Before your father died. Now—now the customers who came for the respectability of Andre Bucher can't find it in me. They had come to help your father, now they don't come at all. No one wants to buy from 'Bucher's' when it's not really 'Bucher's' anymore." He hung his head. "Which brings me to why I came to you."
"Heinrich, I don't have any money. I have to use my earnings for room and board for myself, and Christophe as well. With that there is nothing left to give," she admitted.
"Well... There are two items in the shop that people have made offers toward. Generous offers." While telling her this his shame kept growing.
"What items?" She begged to know.
Silence was his reply.
"What items!" The young woman whispered viciously as she shoved her brother into am armchair. She then knew what he would say. She knew.
He inhaled deeply, "Carolina: The piano."
"No," Caressa whimpered.
"And your father's violin that you gave me," he rushed out.
"No!" She cried, "You wouldn't sell them." She fell to knees to beg.
"Caressa, I need to survi..." He tried to tell her.
"So you'll sell my heart and a part of my soul to a stranger?" At this she nearly screamed.
"Shh, don't wake Christophe, he need not hear this." Heinrich sat with her and pulled her head to his chest. "There is a part of you that understands. Somehow you know I wouldn't ask this of you unless it was of the utmost importance. This is my life."
"This is my mother's piano and my father's violin... And I cannot believe—" She stared at Heinrich's pleading face a moment, "—That I'm going to allow you to sell them."
Heinrich embraced his sister and walked her back to her bed. Tears rolled down her cheeks in the darkness. The last pieces of my mother and father gone.
"You sleep now. I can sleep in a chair," her brother told her.
"No matter," she replied. For a long while she attempted to sleep, however her shame outweighed her exhausted body. It felt to her as though she was Faust and the strangers at the shop were Mephistopheles. What seemed like hours later Caressa heard the door open and close. Sitting up quietly, she noticed that Heinrich had left.
She instantly rose to the floor, grabbed a robe and went to search for him. First she took every short cut she knew to get to the front doors, and waited for him to come. Nothing. After that she searched randomly, thinking that he had perhaps become lost.
When her venture had become seemingly fruitless, she discovered something peculiar on the second floor, down a hallway of alcoves meant to showcase artwork. As she walked passed she could hear someone gasping. Upon hearing this, she investigated further in the direction of the noise.
Nearly coming to the source of the sound Caressa was grasped from behind and pulled into the cover of an alcove. The scent of Erik's leather gloves calmed her.
"Remain quiet," he hushed her, "Trust me." She did as he instructed.
While Caressa and Erik remained quiet, the noises continued. In a short time Caressa realized they were listening to a person. And in an even shorter time after that she realized it was not one person, but two.
Caressa was shocked as two bodies came barreling out of an alcove opposite them and slammed against a pillar in front and to the left of her. In an instant she knew what they were doing, any queries she had ever had about the act of intercourse were answered; it was happening right in front of her virgin eyes. For a moment she looked away. Soon her gaze returned and she could see the man, who was pinning the woman to the pillar, clearly. It was Heinrich, her brother.
How she wanted to look away. But when she'd discovered that Heinrich was the man, she needed to know who the woman was. As if responding to her question, Heinrich pulled away and ran them into a pillar opposite Caressa and Erik. It took a brief time for the girl to register who was fornicating with her brother. First she saw the long blonde hair, and the upturned nose. Then she heard the obnoxious giggle. It was Jacqueline, her best friend.
Erik, who was having a similar reaction to Caressa's, snapped out of his wonderment, and realized Caressa was watching as well. Thinking fast, he opened the hidden door which he had exited from to grab Caressa. He then proceeded to shove her through it; just as he was about to follow, Heinrich and Jacqueline ended up by the pillar nearest Caressa and Erik again. Erik put his lips to Caressa's ear and barely breathed, "Just go." He would have to pull the door shut and lock it, and that meant waiting until Heinrich and Jacqueline were finished.
Caressa ran silently back to her room, she came out of the hidden passageway near her room's door. She entered silently, and laid back in the bed with Christophe. Her tearing eyes wide with betrayal and disbelief.
Back in the alcove, Erik was waiting it out until Heinrich and Jacqueline would leave. He assumed they were almost finished as their passions began to intensify. Knowing that they would leave soon after, he pulled the key out of his cloak. After passing through the door and preparing to close it he heard something come out of Heinrich's mouth that made even the Phantom's murderous blood run cold. The girl hadn't reacted to it, perhaps he had imagined it, or perhaps the darker alternative was that she was used to it. Appalled and sickened by the word that had been called out, he sifted it through his mind once more:
Caressa.
Caressa lie in bed, dumbfounded. For the rest of the night she remained awake, dreading her brother's awkward return. He, however, did not come back to the room. She stared at the ceiling, mulling through what to do next. I shall confront Jacqueline, and have her tell me everything. But should I like to know everything?
Christophe stirred beside her; the night quickly bled into morning. She turned to face him, "Christophe, you wouldn't mind taking a walk about, would you?" He glared at her with sleep deprived eyes, "I meant once you've had a nice taste of the morning and changed into your clothes. This morning I have much business to attend to, and it is quite private."
Her younger brother shrugged his shoulders in compliance, and then began his morning routine. He opened the shutters on the window to let the light shine in. His smile brightened to give off a glow that rivaled the rays upon upon his face.
"You're quite pleased with yourself this morning," Caressa stated, wondering how someone could be so happy when such an important ignorance was brought to light.
Christophe shrugged his shoulders once again, and tilted his head side to side, while continuing to smile. He finished dressing quickly while his sister pushed him out of the room. She hurried to dress as well, shortly after beginning to tie her boot laces a noise by the window caused her to look away...
Immediately after hearing her name come from Heinrich's lips, Erik bolted through the walls to reach Caressa's room; he had to tell her. What could he say? What did it even mean? He was about to burst out of the wall passage near Caressa's room when he noticed a maintenance cart. There were men checking all of the gas lamps in the hallway. Four men were walking up and down the hall. He elected not to be seen, and to wait for them to finish their work. He sat down, and rested while waiting.
What he assumed was 45 minutes later, the men were finally finished. Once he had glanced out to see that he would not be detected, he swiftly moved through the hall and into Caressa's room. She was looking toward the window when he entered.
"Caressa!" Erik called softly. She turned to him with a look of sadness.
"Am I to always be the last to know? The most naive?" She questioned. "How I must frustrate you, with my childish ignorance." Once more she looked to the window.
"You know what you witnessed then?" He wondered, not yet sure how to proceed with telling her of her brother's perverted outburst.
"I know full well. Intimate relations out of wedlock. In public no less." She put her head between her knees.
"It is not so uncommon, especially in an opera house," he tried to calm her.
"Well, that's one thing I'm not so ignorant about," she sobbed.
Erik sat beside her and spoke, "When two people love each other in a way that is deep and passionate, they tend to abandon the laws of society. Perhaps they love each other, Caressa." He smiled at her, forgetting his purpose.
Her face raised to look at his. "Do you believe that they love each other? If they loved each other, I could hardly be upset."
"They must care for each other deeply." He stared into her honey eyes and prayed her entire body tasted the same.
"What is the appeal of such an intimate relationship? I don't understand." She asked with half-lidded eyes.
"The appeal is in touching another person." He put his hand on her cheek. "The warmth one might gain." He pulled her closer to his body. "And the connections we create with our bodies." He pulled her lips to his while placing one hand between her thighs. For a moment he felt nothing, before his heart expanded and his breathing labored. The world around him was flooding, and all he could do was touch her. She was soft and accessible in his hands, she was wearing only her night shift, his vision clouded, but he could feel the skin of her thighs as he pulled down her leggings.
"Stop..." Caressa said weakly, "... I, I can't..."
"I... I am your teacher... Am I not?" He gasped while running his hands around her body.
Caressa nodded, unable to form a reply.
"Allow me to instruct you," he ordered while pulling her shift over her head, and marveling at her body. "Oh... And I shall teach your glorious body to sing." He laid her out on the bed to have the best view. "Your body is an instrument, and with it, I shall compose symphonies." Everywhere he touched her, she expelled a wonderful new sound. It was unbelievable.
He took his hands off of her for a moment to remove all but his trousers. With the last item of clothes still in place he moved his body against hers rhythmically, pushing their hips together.
"You're an angel, Caressa." He pushed his last piece of clothing to the floor, "And... I-"
Just as he was about to take her, a door in the hallway slammed shut. He woke up in the wall, still waiting to enter Caressa's room. In an instant, tears of frustration formed in his eyes. He was always dreaming the same dream, but that time had felt the most tangible. She won't ever let me touch her... Damn it, now she must know of Heinrich. After gathering himself, he watched for a moment and then entered her room. It was empty.
His eyes scanned the room. As they reached the bed, he became lightheaded. He longed to hold her body; to play her like one of his instruments. The mirror caught his eye and he could no longer stand. Erik retreated to his home underground, and lost consciousness as he lie in his gondola.
Caressa looked back at her boot laces after discovering nothing at the window. She was going to find Jacqueline, and discuss just exactly what was going on. Once giving her appearance a glance, she dashed out of the room.
As she made her way to the dormitories, she seethed. When she rounded a corner, she collided head on with someone coming from the other direction. They both fell to the ground and sheets of paper littered the floor.
"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going!" Caressa explained to the man holding his head in front of her. She did not care to recognize him at that moment. "I'll help you with these." She collected over half of the papers on the ground and handed them to the man. "I'm sorry to be rude, but I must go. Have a pleasant day!"
While running off again, she heard the man say, "I told you not to allow me to hold your pieces."
And a man she had not noticed responded, "Wha- Oh, I number them now."
Stopping for nothing, she reached the dormitories. Jacqueline was no where to be found. While her eyes still searched she caught Meg Giry's attention. Meg came to her side with concern.
"Caressa, you look so worried. What is the matter?" Meg asked.
"Please, Meg, in the hall," Caressa said, directing her out into the hallway. She looked at the older girl and allowed tears to form in her eyes before continuing. "Meg, I've just discovered that my brother is—well he has been committing certain acts with one of my dearest friends. Oh, Meg, what am I to do?"
Meg took her hand, "Caressa, Heinrich promised you would never know about us. I swear, that's all over now. I ended our affairs months ago." Caressa gaped at her friend.
"Meg! I was talking about Jacqueline!" Caressa pulled her hand away. "Both of you?" She shouted before running back toward her room.
She heard Meg stupidly call, "I'll tell Jacqueline you're looking for her!"
When she arrived back at her room she slumped on the bed, mentally exhausted by the ghastly torrent of information. Just how many women at this opera house has my brother been with? Someone pounding at the door interrupted her thoughts. She rose and called, "Who's there?"
"It's Jacqueline! Meg said you needed me?" Caressa waited a moment and opened the door. "What is it?"
"What were you doing late last night?" Caressa interrogated.
"Sleeping, I suppose," Jacqueline answered casually.
"Don't you dare lie to me! I saw you with Heinrich!" Caressa fired at her friend.
For the first time in years, Caressa saw hurt in Jacqueline's face, "Oh..."
"Do you love him?" Caressa hoped the answer would be yes.
"I love him with all of my heart," Jacqueline looked in her eyes and she saw it was true.
"You know he was with Meg Giry as well?"
"Caressa, I told you. 'I love him.' I never mentioned him loving me," Jacqueline was in pain at that. "He doesn't love me, and he didn't love Meg Giry. He's told me a million times that the only person he loves—Oh, God—is you." Jacqueline covered her mouth and gasped as she let the information slip out.
"What?" Caressa asked, not completely understanding.
"It's disgusting. When he fucks me, he calls out your name. All he ever speaks of is you. Your brother is not all sunshine and kindness. Something is wrong with him. He's utterly obsessed with you. He will only take lovers that are ballerinas, because they remind him of you." Jacqueline stopped herself. "I don't know why I've told you this. Whether it was to spite him or you. Oh, he'll kill me!" Jacqueline whispered before darting out the door.
Caressa chased her out the door and screamed at her friend's back, "YOU'RE A LIAR! A FILTHY WHORE AND A LIAR!" When she calmed, she returned to her room. "How could she say such things?" Caressa asked aloud. It was absurd; filthy. She would never believe that. But could it be possible? No. Caressa felt dirty at the very idea. Her skin crawled with the horrendous thought of it. Heinrich is my brother. Caressa looked to the door and then locked it.
Her skin felt oily and she smelled a ripeness about her. Everything disgusts me today. She began removing her clothes behind a screen before robing and entering her private washroom. The wash tub was not anything grandiose, but it was large enough to somewhat submerge herself in. It also had a copper plumbing system. Caressa allowed the water to run while attempting to clear her mind.
Once it had filled she threw her robe on a chair and sunk into the water. She submerged and consented her muscles to relax. While beneath the surface all she could hear was the beat of her heart and the water trickling from the faucet. The soap in the tub caused her eyes to remain closed. Something suddenly blew across her knees and she surfaced.
"You promised to remain in the bedroom while I bathe, monsieur," Caressa told Erik.
"I said nothing of the sort," her visitor protested; her stomach turned.
It was not Erik, but Heinrich. Immediately she grabbed for her robe, but it was not where she had left it.
"Heinrich, this isn't proper. Please, wait outside," Caressa pleaded.
"Proper? I used to bathe you when you were a child. Do you remember, Caressa?" He looked at her with soft eyes.
"That was a long time ago, Heinrich. I am a woman now. And now it is not right for you to be here—Wait..." Caressa looked at the door to the washroom. "... I locked the door—" She crossed her arms over her breasts and moved as far away as she could get while still in the tub.
"It was such a simpler time when I could wash the dirt away from your skin." He picked up a cloth and began rubbing it along her shoulder.
She flinched. "Stop... Please..." But he did not. She closed her eyes and turned her head.
Heinrich began humming softly while continuing to run the wet cloth about her. He moved it along her collar bone, and then beneath the water and between her breasts. It continued across her stomach and up her thigh, back out of the water. The cloth rested on her knee for a moment, then slowly descended back down her thigh until it rested in the place where her thighs were pressed together.
"Come, come, Caressa. Don't you wash everywhere? And certainly you should wash the dirtiest part of your body. If you should be clean anywhere, it should be here." He tried to press the cloth closer to her most private place. "Do you know what this part of you is for?"
Her legs closed tighter, and she shook her head in hopes that he would just stop.
But he didn't. He pried her knees open and the cloth found its destination. Caressa gasped and began to cry. He slowly moved it up and down while Caressa whimpered. When he finally stopped, he ordered her out of the bath.
As she rose while failing to cover herself, he motioned for her to step into the towel he was holding out. She did so reluctantly and he began rubbing her body. "Come into the room with me," he demanded before half-pushing/half-carrying her into the main room. He sat in a chair across from the bed and pulled Caressa onto him.
It was not at all like sitting on Erik, she was terrified of her own brother. "Heinrich, Heinrich, you're my brother, you've got to stop this," she pleaded again.
"You used to sit on my lap every day. And besides, we were siblings by marriage, a divorced marriage. I am no more your brother than I am your father. You cannot deny that you care for me." He played with her hair, while one hand found her inner thigh.
"Only as my brother! Nothing more! You could have Jacqueline; she loves you!" Caressa was relieved when he stopped touching her.
"Jacqueline? Yes, she told me you'd discovered us. I figured as much that she couldn't keep her whorish mouth shut," He whispered. Caressa looked back at him and nodded quickly. "What has she said?" His eyes looked at her, demented. "What did she tell you?" He roared at Caressa.
"I'm starting to believe she told me the truth..." Caressa replied meekly.
Heinrich grabbed her roughly by the jaw and repeated, "What did she tell you?"
"That you only took on ballerina lovers because you're obsessed with me," she admitted quickly.
"Obsessed? I would never suspect she could comprehend the love I have for you! That parasitic little slut is nothing! She doesn't deserve her whorish life!" His anger continued to grow. His hands began to roam her body once more. "Caressa, there are so many things I've wanted to tell you since I first knew I loved you." His hand moved between her legs, "So many things that bitch wouldn't understand." Strangely, Caressa felt the urge to anger him more; to hurt him.
She whispered into his ear with quiet malice, "You remind me of your mother."
In an instant she was hurled to the ground. She scrambled toward the single lit lamp in the room and blew it out. She was being hunted in the dark, while naked, by her brother.
He screamed his rage at her, "I am not like her! Caressa, love, where are you? Where are you?" While he raged, she moved toward the door. She felt along the wood for the handle. When she pushed down it didn't open, it was stuck.
"I used my pocket knife to jam it," Heinrich explained before grabbing a flailing Caressa from behind, "I didn't want to be interrupted." He carried her toward the bed. In the darkness, she was not forewarned when her head collided violently with the backboard as Heinrich threw her onto the bed. Her head reeled with pain as she attempted to focus. The fear and pain threatened her consciousness, but she prevailed... for a moment.
She was immediately overpowered when he held both of her wrists in one hand, and pinned her body with his legs. His free hand found its way between them and she shrieked when he attempted to put them in her.
"Bone dry, I'm sorry," He hushed her while trying to kiss her. His fingers caressed around her and he cooed at her; he began humming. She cried and tried to scream, but the pain in her head was too great.
Once he started humming, Caressa saw a face above her that was not Heinrich's. Suddenly, her imagination told her that Erik was above her, and it was him that was touching her. The crying stopped.
"That's my girl. Oh, that didn't take long at all." She felt more than fingers pressing against her and her imagination quickly changed its mind. Heinrich was on her, nearly raping her! "Quiet now, my love." He began to push and Caressa bucked sideways violently, keeping him out of her and slightly jarring him. "Hold still, you slut!" He shouted while backhanding her.
The blow caused her to elicit a bloodcurdling scream. Caressa heard a thundering crack and then Heinrich was no longer on top of her. Erik, she thought instantly. But in the light flowing from the hall, (as the door had been taken off of its hinges), it was revealed that Erik was not her rescuer. The back of a much shorter man was toward her, standing over a bleeding Heinrich.
A voice she had never heard before bellowed harshly and untamed, "If I should ever see your face again, I will cut off your fucking head! And I do not imply the head atop your neck!" Heinrich still cowered, his side bleeding. The figure held a blade, dripping gore. "Go! Get out of my sight!" At this, Heinrich darted from the room.
Someone was at her side, draping her in a blanket. She clung onto them and watched the figure fall to his knees. The person holding her rocked her back and forth, while humming. Before she lost consciousness she heard his melody.
