Chapter 13: Destination
The next morning, I woke early and trekked through the undergrowth to the river. I knew it wasn't the best bathing spot in the world, but I couldn't stand not bathing. I stripped down and waded into the water.
I contemplated on what I planned to do once I reached my childhood household. I wanted to burn the place down and know securely that it would never haunt my memories again.
I wrapped my arms around a rock and lay my head against it, closing my eyes.
I was jerked from my reverie when I heard a footstep on the shore. I stood up quickly, ready to defend myself.
But to my own humiliation, I saw a wide eyed, opened mouthed Christine. We both yelled in surprise and I sank back into the water.
"I'm sorry!" she shouted. She had turned around, her hands apparently over her mouth. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment.
"What in God's name were you doing?!" I shouted back, feeling as if I would never be able to come out of the water and retain every ounce of my dignity.
"I-I heard the river and I came to . . . well, bathe and I-I saw you and you stood up and I'm sorry!" I could hear the embarrassment in her voice.
A few minutes of silent awkwardness and she still hadn't left. "Why in the hell are you still standing there?" I asked, coldly. "It's getting rather cold and I would like to get out before I'm reduced to nothing but a fleshy prune!"
"Sorry!" she said again before running back to camp.
I lingered in the water, trying to gather up what dignity and pride I had left before emerging.
I quickly pulled my pants on, and draped my shirt over my arms before placing my mask back on my face. I carried my shoes in my hand back to the camp.
I arrived and saw Christine sitting on the grass with her head in her hands. I sat the rest of my clothing down on the ground before going to my horse and brushing her absently.
I found it quite awkward to be in Christine's presence after that. We didn't speak to each other unless it was necessary. But I will admit that I was rather hurt by her decision to not look at me. I do believe it was my body that I saw and that I should be slightly more embarrassed. But I had gotten over it. I hoped she would too. I didn't want to sleep alone again tonight.
We traveled along the river in silence.
It started to get dark and I could not take the silence any longer.
"Why do you wish to remain silent and not speak a word to me, Christine?" I asked, stopping the horse and placing a hand on her knee. "I understand you are embarrassed but it's starting to become offensive."
I paused for a second. I didn't truly want to say the rest of my thoughts but I knew I couldn't and should not hide them from her.
"You won't look at me, either. It makes me feel hideous again, Christine." I looked down at the ground. I felt her shuffle underneath my hand and I knew she was dismounting my horse. I felt one of her hands on my cold flesh and the other on my mask.
"You are not hideous, Erik." she said, pulling the mask away. "That is not why I choose to look away from you."
I looked into her brown eyes, feeling regret for saying such madness to her. I knew she didn't think I was hideous. But I knew I was, and there was no denying it.
"It was quite unexpected for me to see you. . . ." she trailed off.
"Nude?" I asked, smiling at her fault.
She blushed. I leaned in and kissed her forehead, the tension between us dispersed. I had a haunting feeling that this was only going to encourage her to try and speed up my decision to make love to her. I groaned.
She looked up at my questioningly. "What's wrong?" she asked, combing through my hair.
I shook my head and lifted her unexpectedly up onto the horse.
"We're almost there." I said. "If we continue through the night we'll make it there within hours."
She nodded, trying to stifle a yawn. I smiled and reached up, placing my hand on hers. "It will not be long before you will be safe and sound in a warm bed, my dear." I said before leading the horse through the forest.
I few hours later we arrived on the edge of Boscherville. It was approximately an hour from midnight. Christine was lying against my stallion's neck, sleeping. She had lost consciousness just after passing through Rouen.
My legs started to feel like lead and even though I wanted to burn the house down, I couldn't deny I may need to rest before hand. I would also have to find a hotel for us to room in.
After searching for hours, I finally found an inn suitable enough for us and which was willing to accept us.
I lay Christine gently on the bed and pulled the covers over her. I would be leaving her again. But I knew better than to let her watch the horror which was about to unfold.
I stood at last outside the garden gate of the old house, staring . . . remembering. . . .
So many times, in my imagination, had I razed this building to the ground, that I was shocked to still find it standing.
How dare it stand there in all its quaint, old-worldly charm, housing a family who lived happily unaware of the grief I had suffered behind those ivy-covered walls. The tears I had shed in that attic bedroom! The lonely terror and fear of being shut away from the world forever! I hated this house! I wanted to blow it and all its attendant memories from the face of the earth!
I knew now why I had come back to Boscherville—it was to remove this abominable desecration from the landscape of Normandy forever.
There was a light burning in an upstairs window, annoying evidence of peaceful occupation. I could not simply set fire to this building without rousing the wretched inhabitants from their beds. No more murders, I had promised both Antoinette and Christine; and even had I not promised, it would still have seemed a mean and shameful wickedness to kill innocent children sleeping in their beds.
As I thought of children, my hand closed around a wad of thousand-franc notes. These people would be homeless once I had gratified my morbid urge for destruction—and no one knew better than I the fate that awaited the destitute and the homeless. I would drive no French child down the dark paths of decadence which had swallowed my own youth. I was willing to pay generously for this satisfaction. Let them go away and talk for the rest of their lives of the madman who paid for the privilege of burning their house to the ground. . . .
I tether the black stallion to a tree on the opposite side of the road, and he whickered his indignation at finding himself bound. His eyes reproached me for the insult, but I dared not leave him to wander free this time. Fire is the greatest terror in the world to a horse, and a bolt of panic from him now would almost certainly cost us our lives.
Taking a pistol from under my cloak, I hammered three times on the front door and waited beneath the wooden canopy, secure in the knowledge that I could not be seen from the bedroom windows above. Anyone wishing to satisfy his curiosity would be obliged to open the door. And since there was not a man on this earth that I could not overpower with my freak strength and my singular knowledge of armed combat, I waited with a calm that was almost indifference. There was a tub of flowers growing by the front door and I reached down absently to remove a few strangling weeds that had gained a hold. It always annoyed me to see a fragile bloom struggling for space. . . .
A light showed suddenly beneath the door and I heard the familiar sound of the old bolt sliding back. A rash and foolhardy householder this, who really deserved to die for his stupidity. . . . I stood back in the shadows as the door opened, curious to see how far this incredible recklessness was going to extend. Small wonder the world is full of rogues such as myself when idiots like this invite villainy every day!
A candle wavered out over the step and I froze in horror to find that this careless, ill-advised occupant was a woman I would have recognized anywhere, in spite of the gulf of years that lay between us.
And when she turned to look at me with wide, staring eyes and one hand stealing defensively to her throat, her look of aghast recognition was also unmistakable.
"Holy Virgin!"she gasped. "Erik!"