The plan had been almost too perfect. Erik had complied with the Daroga and managed to wean himself off of morphine and cocaine… but this only served to further his insanity. In the month or so Erik spent being watched over by the Daroga he had learned to pretend; speaking in first person became second nature again, his temper was kept in relative check, but not so much so as to arouse suspicion. But Erik was not quite through with Aminta.
She had shamed him beyond all comprehension. She had earned his trust only to shatter his privacy and trust in one sweeping motion of her hand. Aminta had seen what nobody should ever see, what Erik worked so hard to keep from the world. By stepping into his room and removing his mask, she had caught a glimpse of the inner workings of a madman. And so that madman had emerged in full force, pressing the gentler Erik into the darkest corners of his mind and taking over entirely. There was little struggle; the more gentle Erik Aminta had known was too heartbroken by her reaction to his face to fight back when the madman took control.
It was plain to see Aminta had feelings for the masked musician. He had been worried his plan wouldn't succeed when he heard rumors she was being courted by a young violinist in the Opera, but after weeks of careful observation Erik decided the boy was no threat. Aminta never looked at Antonio the way she had once looked at Erik.
He would seduce her, though he knew she would not be easily seduced. No, she would have to be the one empowered for this to work. He would lure her to the old Prima Dona dressing room and appeal to her feminine sensitivities. She would take pity on him when he asked her forgiveness, and surely her feelings for him would reemerge in full. They would lie together until the moment her body shook and her hands groped… and just as her passion reached its peak he would run a blade through her heart. That way Aminta would realize, however briefly, the pain and suffering Erik endured daily, and how thoroughly she had aggravated it.
The plan had work flawlessly. Erik had let himself be seen just long enough to lure Aminta to the empty dressing room, had little more than thrown himself at her feet and all but begged for forgiveness… and Aminta took the bait readily. They kissed, and how glorious it felt! That was one thing Erik had not anticipated. He had been kissed once before by Christine in a desperate attempt for her to win her freedom. But these! These were real kisses! They were made so much sweeter, so much more delightful when the mask was removed and he could taste her in full. It had been hard in that moment not to ravage her, to forsake the plan and have his way with her whether she desired him or not. The small sounds she made had nearly broken him as the gentler Erik fought hard for control, to stop the inevitable. He was delighting in her touch as much as the madman, but in an entirely different way. It was this Erik who wept both for himself and for the pain he knew he would cause her before long.
It was this gentler Erik who had back control of his senses as he laid draped across his lover and she hummed sweetly into his neck. When he realized what was happening, what had already happened, he had recoiled horrified. The knife had been already poised in his hand, expertly acquired from under Aminta's pillow while she had been distracted. The pleasure had been too intense to stop everything to kill the girl while they were together, a miracle in itself. If Erik had as much self control as he would have liked to think, Aminta would surely have been dead by the time he came to his senses. How he longed to stay in her embrace, to hide the immensity of the betrayal he had almost done to her forever! But he was too sickened with himself to be near her, too ashamed to let himself touch her. She was an Angel and he was nothing short of a monster; just by laying with her he had committed blasphemy.
He had dressed quickly, trying hard not to look at her hurt and frightened form lying naked in the sheets. Erik was more disgusted with himself than he had ever been, and he fled from the monstrosity of his crime so rapidly he could hardly remember the journey back to the house by the underground lake.
Aminta wasn't sure how to react to what had happened… What had happened? She and Erik had kissed and made love, that much as certain. Or had they? Was it lovemaking or rape that had just occurred? She had enjoyed every sweet moment… but the man inside her was not the man he had presented himself to be. No, she had slept with the monster who had tried to kill her once before.
Angrily she wiped tears from her eyes, gritting her teeth hard. She was so embarrassed, so stupid! She felt as though she should have known, but in her heart she knew that hadn't been possible. Her feelings for Erik had grown too strong too rapidly for her to ignore the warning signs even if they had been present. No, Erik was a master of deceit. There was not a single flaw in his act, and Aminta had to applaud him for that.
When she stood she caught another glimpse of the knife and felt sick to her stomach. Why hadn't he killed her? Rape and murder would have been much kinder, she felt. At least then she wouldn't be the one living with the consequences. She had to somebody, anybody. There were so many things racing through her mind she could hardly contain herself. In one fell swoop her heart had been shattered and old wounds reopened. Numbly, she dressed back into her costume and moved through the Opera towards the exit.
The ball had already begun, and people cheered as Aminta entered the room. A sight that should have made her blush and grin was met with a cold, numb glance around the room. She felt nothing, she realized. No embarrassment, no pride, no joy. Emotionlessly she mused if she would ever feel again.
Antonio approached her with a fake smile and a swift kiss on the cheek before ushering her aside and out of the spotlight. "Aminta, what's wrong? You look-"
"I had sex with someone, Antonio." She told him frankly, not caring how she might hurt him by admitting it. He deserved to know. "I don't love you. I can't love you. Frankly I'm not sure I can love anybody right now."
The young musician was shocked. "I… Aminta, what happened to you? When I last saw you you were full of life, now your eyes are dead."
Hearing him say that broke her. She went from feeling nothing to feeling nothing but anguish as she grieved for her loss; he was right. She was dead. Erik had succeeded in killing the girl she had been. She would never be back. Aminta told the young man everything. Where and when she was really from being kidnapped by the Phantom of the Opera, growing to be friends with him and unwittingly growing to love him. She told him about how she had hurt Erik and how that had changed everything between them. She told him about sleeping with him, about how she had been tricked and very nearly killed, about how she wished Erik hadn't been too much of a cowered to carry through his plan.
Antonio held her and nearly shook with fury. It was plain to him Aminta had been fooled, and this was not something he would stand for. He resolved then and there to destroy the so-called Opera Ghost, or die trying. Any monster that can kidnap and rape such a strong woman as he knew Aminta to be must be stopped, he thought.
"Come, you can stay with me tonight. Have a hot bath, change out of this silly costume and rest. You've had along day." Aminta nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. She was suddenly embarrassed by this display of emotion. It seemed like she had been here for years, but really it had only been a matter of months… she hardly knew these people at all and here she was crying like a fool.
The young musician took Aminta back to his modest apartment in the city, explaining to the guests at the ball that she was ill again after such a taxing performance. He gave her his room and did not protest when she locked the door behind her bathe and sleep. He fell asleep so deeply on the sofa he didn't even hear her slip out in the early hours of the morning on her way back to the Palais Garnier.