Many thanks, friends! On we go! :)
Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber
All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and Caesar, patiently grazing next to the tent.
"My childhood... I... I knew who those men were because... I recognized one of them from my childhood." He looked at her again, as if expecting her to miraculously figure out the rest so that he wouldn't have to say it out loud. "As... a child I was..." He exhaled in frustration. "I don't know where to start, Christine."
"It's alright... just... " She wrapped an arm around him. "Tell me about your mother?"
"...My... mother?" He scoffed. "My mother was the beginning, and the end. She hated me, loathed me. She couldn't bear the sight of me and... I knew that by remaining there I was only hurting her, so I left. I... I can't talk about her now, Christine."
"That's alright." She said, rubbing his back reassuringly. "That's fine. Another time." So it was his mother; she had started the cycle? What sort of childhood had he lived through? What sort of mother despises their own child because of how they look? What sort of life had he lived if his own mother had shown him such hatred? His mother; the one person who should love you regardless of flaws, inside or out.
"So, you left? How old were you?"
"I... must have been seven or eight." He said. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Seven or eight?
He had been so young; a mere child when he was forced out of his home in search of the sanctuary a mother should offer.
"And... where did you go?" She asked; her voice wavering. She wanted to weep for him; weep for the love he had never had, weep for his lost childhood.
Erik froze. Where had he gone? He had gone to the gypsy camp. He had gone in search of comfort and love and been met with hate and revulsion... as always.
"Erik?" She asked, shaking him slightly. He looked at her, a blank expression on his face. "Where did you go?"
"I... joined a travelling fair..." He said distantly.
"Oh. Father and I spent some time with one of those... How long were you there for?"
"No..." He chuckled cynically and looked at her. "It... it wasn't like that. I didn't 'spend time' with them as you and your father did."
Christine inclined her head slightly; questioning him.
"Christine... I was used as entertainment; a side show. I was... put on display."
"You were what?! But that is awful!" She held him tighter.
"...Yes... And I know that man because I remember him from... there; from the camp."
"Erik, I... don't know what to say. I had no idea that it... would have been that bad."
"Why is that?"
"I just... I don't know. Maybe I didn't want to believe that people could be so cruel."
"So... you don't believe me?" He asked, pulling away from her slightly.
"I didn't say that, Erik. Calm down. Of course I believe you." She said, keeping her voice leveled in an attempt to calm him.
"No, you don't. How could you?" He shook her off callously and stood up. "How could you possibly know what life is like for those who are less perfect, less fortunate than you? Do you... have any idea what I have lived through because of this?" He gestured to his mask.
Christine stood up. "No! But I'm trying to learn, Erik!"
"...Because of this face; this... thing that was out of my control, this... thing which had predestined my fate before I could even walk?" His voice broke on the last word as emotion finally overcame him. "Do you wish to know?!" He asked, walking towards her; his voice rising in pitch and volume.
"Erik, please. Calm yourself! I'm trying to help you!"
"I'll tell you, Christine. If you wish to know!" He yelled, haphazardly wiping a tear from his face. "Do you wish to know what they did to me?"
"Erik, please! Don't do this! Don't do this to yourself!" She pleaded, walking towards him and placing a hand calming hand on his arm. Again, he was working himself up and there was nothing she could do to aid him except wait.
"Do you know how long I was in that cage, Christine?" He asked, shaking her hand off. "Yes! A cage! Years! I was there for years! A child... only a child... I was forced to sleep on iron bars padded only with hay and remnants of food people had thrown at me." He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Even in the darkness it was now evident that he was crying but she couldn't do a thing...
"I was flayed more times than I can remember! You recall those old scars on my back? Children don't usually scar. Did you know that, Christine? Because their skin heals so quickly... and yet I have scars. Why do you think that is? Why?! It's because of how deep they were... I was only a child... I was a child but he didn't care... none of them did." His voice was thick with sobs but he continued. "I was flayed because of what I did... or because I disobeyed them... So I learned quite quickly to do as I was told but I was flayed all the same! And why? Because... of my face... that's all. I was... beaten so many times that I can't even recall what some of my scars are from... Oh, this one..." He lifted his shirt with a twisted smile on his face. "That was for refusing to show my face when I was first captured."
Christine looked at what he was showing her; a deep scar on his stomach... it was undoubtedly that of a knife blade. She wanted to stop this spiral... why was he doing this to himself? She was only meters away from him... but she could not reach him. No one could.
"Yes." He nodded. "That was a knife!" He turned around, his shirt still raised. "This one is a burn... that was for refusing to eat. That was in my second year... I could see that the only way out was suicide... but I couldn't even do that! They hated me... I remember praying... praying for god to fix my face so that I would be freed from my prison... but my prayers were never answered." He looked up at Christine who was sobbing, powerless and utterly broken. "I knew that man as a boy... He was responsible for the worst beating I had ever received... but worst of all, he would simply watch... watch as unspeakable things were done to me and he would do nothing to prevent them. As a boy I didn't know... I couldn't understand why he was letting these things happen if he was just a child like me but now I know! My... master was the boy's father... I never had a hope in the world..." He dropped to his knees; his words now almost completely lost. He peeled his mask and wig from his face and dropped them in the dirt beside him, holding his head in his hands.
Now, Christine understood. The man she had seen was the son of his tormentor and was clearly seeking retribution of some kind.
"Part of me was lost in those years of torture but I took comfort in knowing that they were well and truly over. And now..." He looked up at Christine in the darkness and at that moment she knew that it was safe to approach.
"They hated me!" He cried to her as she rushed towards him. "All because of... what I was... because of something I could not change!" Christine dropped down next to him and embraced him. In response he clung to her and his emotion seemed to intensify.
"I told myself that I would never be that boy again... I have spent the better part of my life trying to overcome these... memories... but why? I should have known that I could never truly escape. No... I never really left that cage."
"Shhh." She soothed. "You are not that boy anymore, Erik. You are strong and you have accomplished so much! You have escaped... and you have turned into such... a wonderfully strong person; a person who I need in my life!" She placed a kiss on his left cheek but he was too distraught to respond. She held his face in her hands but as she tried to look upon his face, he turned away.
"No... you don't want to see." He cried. She pulled his face towards her again.
"Yes. I do, I don't care, Erik."
"No..." He pushed her hands away.
A third time, she pulled his face towards her and this time he did not pull away. His powerful, piercing eyes seemed particularly blue; usually so alluring they were filled with tears and anguish.
"Please..." He said, as if still resisting her actions but not making any effort to stop her.
Slowly she moved in and placed a kiss on the right side of his face... afterwards pulling away to look at him; searching his face for a response. She needed him to know that she wasn't afraid of his face; not at all. She needed him to know this now more than ever. He stared at her for a moment; an unreadable expression on his tear streaked face.
Then, abruptly he stood up and walked over to Caesar who greeted him with a soft whinny. Erik stroked him lovingly and rested his head against his strong neck. Christine watched his erratic movements, perplexed.
"I'm far from what you make me out to be, Christine. You don't know what I've done... what I'm capable of."
"It... doesn't matter." Erik turned to face her.
"Yes, it does."
"No! It doesn't! Listen... We will work this out! We will get through this! I have always depended on you to be strong for me but now it's time for you to lean on me! We will face this together, alright?" It was difficult to see him so vulnerable but she had to be strong; it was her turn. She stood up and walked to him.
"God... you speak of yourself as if you are nothing but... if you only knew what you meant to me!" She held him from behind. Again, he did not return it but held her hand where it lay on his chest. Christine did not release him until she felt his shaking begin to lessen.
"Shall we go and sit back by the fire?" She asked quietly, pulling away.
"Yes." He sniffed. "Alright." She took his hand.
"I'm so sorry, Erik. I shouldn't have asked about your past. It was so selfish of me... I had no idea..."
"Its fine, Christine... really; you had to know..." There was so much more that she had yet to learn about him and he wondered if she would be as understanding when the time came to divulge that information...
"Erik... do you mind if I asked you... how you escaped...?"
"Madame Giry. You wondered how we knew one another. She saved my life." He wiped the remaining tears from his face and picked up his mask. Christine stared at him in stupefaction.
"I... I can't believe it."
"Yes... We should actually try to rest." He said, changing the subject as she sat back down in front of the fire.
"Yes... you're probably right. Won't you rest with me though?"
"No, I told you. I won't sleep... but... I will lie with you."
"Alright." She said excitedly, standing up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his lips. Erik closed his eyes and actually returned it; his arms encircling her waist. For a brief moment and as always when he was intimate with Christine, he was oblivious of all but her presence; what had happened, where he was... even who he was. Christine deepened the kiss slightly before pulling away. She ran her hands over his chest and arms as she stared at him; utterly elated by what she had just experienced. She wanted to see more of him, touch more of him... experience more of him. Sadly, they had had little time for it amid the chaos.
"I still cannot believe that I'm... allowed to do that." He smiled, tracing his lip where her mouth had just been.
"Allowed? I expect it!" She teased. "Come." She said, entering the small tent.
He was about to enter himself when he felt the presence of something in his pocket which, for some reason had gone unnoticed up until now.
The note.
Christine's note.
Christine's note to Raoul...
Tomorrow...
Tomorrow he would think on it... and perhaps read it...