Erik
As Christine has been gallivanting about Paris with her precious Raoul de Chagny, I have dutifully remained in the house. Go, let her have her life- doesn't she deserve genuine happiness after these months of pretending with me? Such a talented actress she's been, so attentive to detail, she so seamlessly slipped into her role that I had been played for a fool yet again.
I must have been blinded by my hopes not to have noticed some little giveaway of her disgust with me. I hurt her- no matter what she did or didn't do, I never should have hurt her in any way. The truth that I had hurt her, so easily and without hesitation, shows what a monster I am. I hurt her, I forced her. Monster, monster, monster...
I'm so tired, but I cannot sleep, and yet I cannot wake up. Can't I just stay here and hold Christine's pillow, pretending that it's her, breathing in her fading scent and dream of happier times?
There is nothing left for me any longer…I have truly become the living ghost I've always feared that Fate had intended for me. I've dismissed the servants with generous severance checks- I could not have them bother me about Christine's whereabouts, I didn't even want to hear her name spoken out loud. I put on a mask for the last time and let them all go, hiding behind an icy persona- a far cry from the true coward that I am.
Goodbye Marcel, Sophie and William. Goodbye gardeners and Gaston, our wonderful cook.
The Latour chateau will again become overrun by weeds and ivy vines, algae will cover the pool and fountains, birds will roost on the statues; inside, dust will settle over the furniture, the houseplants will wither and the food will rot. The house will fall dormant and I will fade away. Perhaps it will take a year or even longer for the neighbors to become curious enough to investigate; inside they will find my remains here in the master bedroom, my corpse clutching a moth-eaten pillow that had once been scented with rose perfume and the indefinable scent of woman.
My God I am melodramatic…!I can't write or play music, I can't paint or sketch any new designs, I can do nothing but stare at the digital image of her abused naked body as I lay here in the dark. Did my mother instruct her in the ways of cruelty somehow behind my back, or had Christine always been so secretly vicious?
I should not consider her motivations- she was just a girl who had made me believe…
Believe what? That true love comes for everyone? My mother hates me- my mother! She gave me life, my own flesh and blood...how could I have expected that lively young vision to have loved me? It was an act put on for what I could give her, that has to be the only reason she stayed- I am hideous, dangerous, beyond human recognition and forgiveness!
Ys, she stayed for what I could give her, and I could have given her anything. Designer clothes, beautiful jewelry, access to the most exclusive clubs and spas of the Paris elite…even the simple things such as her university education and this grand house…
The sacrifice was too much, I suppose. Raoul proved too great a handsome temptation and she'd given in to him. I imagine that they are back on their island now, or perhaps not; Raoul is of the de Chagny family, and I know that he could have easily swept her off to some tropical paradise where they could spend the rest of their days making love on white shores and laughing about the destroyed monster wasting away in Paris. The thought of his hands on her skin eats me alive, she said that she loved me!
This line of thinking is truly macabre…I took her mind from her, forced her to dance and pose for me. There is no excuse for what I've done to damage that poor, beautiful girl. She trusted me, once. She put her full faith in me to bring her home, to save her life.
She betrayed me…I could have killed her, I could have killed her…
What I did was worse, for she may never trust again. I've taken her innocence, she will look at the world through different eyes now because of what I'd done to her in my blind anger and destruction. I'd never before felt so driven to be cruel, so sexually violent.
Do not worry, hell awaits, and that punishment will be more fitting than the torment you inflict on yourself.
I'd not left the house in over a week, there was no need. Staring at the image that Christine had left behind and brooding has been all that I've accomplished. I sat up and stretched before going into the bathroom to prepare for the day. I had to wonder why I bothered; it wasn't as if I had anything planned. I heard a car outside and like a fool I tripped over myself in the rush to get to the window.
Christine! You've come back to me, please, I love you! I'll be your slave and give you everything...Disappointment slapped me in the face as I watched my mother step out from a taxi in the front drive. My stomach twisted and my entire body wracked with pain. Not Christine, but Giselle. Christine is not coming back, but Giselle will stay here to humiliate me for as long as she wants. I groaned as I watched her disappear into the front of the house.
Christ, I have to deal with her now? God, when does it end?!My madness broke and I returned to myself as her shrieks rang throughout the chateau.
"Erik! Erik, come here right now!" She yells. I couldn't help but feel curious, she never seeks me out.
I left the bedroom and went downstairs, following her shouts to her bedroom. I find her inside, quickly shoving mementos into a different suitcase than the one she had taken with her on the ski trip.
"Yes, mother?" I asked. I'd spent many days crying and ranting; my voice was scratched and raw. Even my one beauty was denied to me.
She turned and started. "Jesus, Erik! Could you give a warning if you want to roam the house while you're not wearing a mask? Suppose someone had seen you! Where are the servants, anyway?"
I hadn't bothered with a mask for several days- my face didn't feel as raw from rubbing against the inside of the porcelain and leather, but that small improvement in my looks meant nothing to her. I suddenly felt so tired, and leaned against the doorframe of her bedroom.
"What's the matter, Giselle? I would think you'd be used to my face by now…" I replied lazily.
It occured to me that it was because of her interference that Christine and I had been led down this chaotic road- but no. It was not Giselle that had shoved Christine onto the floor and left the house for days. It was not Giselle that had forced Christine from the master bedroom, and it was not Giselle that had destroyed everything I've ever dreamed of.
Giselle only opened a door- the blame was all mine. The blame, the shame, the guilt. It was all mine.
She was looking at me strangely, staring intently.
"What is it? Are you all right?"
My question snapped her out of her distraction. "Oh, I was just…it's strange to watch you speak. That might sound strange, but after so many years of seeing the masks it's just odd to see you with a moving mouth, if you know what I mean. Forget I said anything, it doesn't matter," she dismissed it with a quick wave of her hand.
I shrugged. "Whatever you say. Yes, I have a mouth and eyes. This face is mine and always will be. Well, I never cared for anything ordinary. Why are you packing?" I asked as I watched her stash jewelry and framed photographs into her case.
"I met a man on the ski trip, Erik. An American, he's taking me to Texas!" Giselle gushed. Her bubbly happiness was unusual to me. I can't recall a time that she'd ever been light of heart in my presence.
She was leaving. That was a nice bit of news for a change. "Texas? I assume he must be rich."
"Of course! You didn't think I'd waste my time on a blue-collar man, did you? He has an oil company, we're getting married!" She cried out with a flip of her luxurious hair.
"Congratulations, Giselle. I want you to be happy." I said lowly. It was the truth; I did love my mother, I want her to have the happiness that I never will. I've been the cause of so much disappointment and pain to her, it's only fair.
"Speaking of marriage, where's the little lady?" She asked with dripping disdain.
I winced, and felt my stomach clench at the mere mention of her. I took a breath. "She's left me, over a week ago now. Nothing you weren't expecting or hoping for, I'm sure, but I'd rather not talk about it. Tell me more about your ski trip," I suggested tightly.
She nodded, understanding the edge in my voice and not taking any chances. Giselle began to chatter on about the shopping, the skiing and the lodge where she'd stayed before she went on to tell me of the man who was to become the stepfather I was sure never to meet.
I pretended to listen, and even tossed in a few comments to add to my pretense of interest.
She's so happy...I want her to be happy...
She was smiling and radiating joy, and I could even see a touch of adoration for this man thrown into the mix of her emotions. Perhaps marriage was a hasty step, but it seemed she truly cared for him, whoever the hell he was. But who am I to criticize? I did offer Christine my ring within hours of knowing her, and even then it was no love match, it was a step taken for her survival.
On presenting me with a wallet photo of the man, I felt mildly surprised that he had a kind look to him. Giselle explained to me that her new man had two daughters from his first marriage- he was a widower- and had several charitable projects in the works, all of which he could easily afford thanks to his extreme wealth earned in the Texas oil industry.
This all translated to me that Giselle was leaving France to be a part of this new family in America, where she could spend her days being beautiful in the Gulf of Mexico. She loved this man already, and if he did not love her, why would he ask for her hand? Surely they were not under the pressure that Christine and I had been…
As if in a sleepwalking trance, I helped Giselle pack her bags and waited patiently out front with her for the limo sent by her new fiancé that would take her to the airport, and out of Paris. Once we saw the limousine begin to ascend the driveway, I stepped inside. My face was still naked. It wouldn't do to scare off the driver.
Giselle surprised me when she touched my hand to say goodbye, but we did not apologize for how we'd hurt each other throughout all our years together. I watched as the twin red tail lights of the hired car disappeared back down the drive.
Goodbye, Giselle, mother...
I had always loved her more than I'd hated her. She had hated me- it was no secret, but I could understand. She had carried me within her body for nine months in this grand house, so happy and in love with my father. It was only two months before my arrival that he had died in an auto accident, and she had pinned such hope and love onto her unborn son.
How disappointed and crushed could she have been upon looking at me, the only living remnant of her beloved?
It occurred to me that I might have very well impregnated Christine on our last day together. Not that I would know- even if we had created a life between us, I know that she would detest it instantly, and more than likely have it aborted. Surely she and the boy would never agree to raise my child as their own!
My child…no progeny of mine should ever see the light of day. Terrible pain and disappointment runs in my family, I wouldn't dream to curse the world with another like myself.
"Come on, Christine, you're going to have to be faster than that!" Raoul called back to her. He had launched ahead of her down the street on the motorcycle he'd rented. He paused and turned to look back as Christine made her way after him.
She glared at him a little. "Hey, not all of us are meant to compete in the X-games," she cried back to him as she adjusted her helmet. Raoul shrugged and went forward, slower this time, to allow Christine to stay close. The last thing either of them needed was to get separated in a foreign city where neither of them spoke the language.
Raoul noticed that as the minutes passed by, Christine's handling grew more confident and soon she had overtaken him in the street, even if only by a few feet. He smiled behind his own helmet; she had seemed more at ease since they'd left Paris and that made him very happy. He had no designs on her himsel, but Raoul wanted Erik out of her heart completely so that she might be more receptive to other men in the future. He was her friend, and only wanted her to be happy again. She did deserve it.
Together they rode around the city, gaining a slight familiarity of the great Italian stronghold. After a great while, Raoul signaled for her to pull over. She parked her cycle beside his in an alley near the hotel where Raoul had booked them into a suite, and they pulled off their helmets to reveal hot, sweaty faces. "I think I could use a break," Raoul panted. "How about you?"
Christine nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "Definitely. I didn't think it would be so hot,"
"Well, that's Rome for you. It'll be hot for several days, then it'll rain for a few, and then it will be nice and cold. I think we're in for a swift autumn. If we want to use that pool at the hotel, we'd better do it soon," Raoul said as he removed his protective motorcycle leather. "Let's grab a bite to eat, sound good?"
Christine stripped her own jacket and fanned her face with the tour guide they'd brought along. "Sounds great, so long as a cold drink is involved,"
Raoul took the guide from her. "Don't wave that thing around, why don't you just announce that we're tourists?"
Christine raised her brow in a challenge. "Well, we are, aren't we? I can't speak a word of Italian, and neither can you. I feel like the Romans know we're foreigners before we even open our mouths."
"Don't worry about that, just do whatever they do. You know, 'When in Rome…' Anyway, learning the culture is supposed to be part of the adventure." Raoul said flippantly as he looped his arm through hers and they started walking down the street.
"I'm always up for adventure,"Christine smiled and tried not to think about the ring that remained on her finger.
Raoul splashed at her and Christine squealed as the cold spray hit her. "Raoul, cut it out!"
"I can't help it, you take forever to get in the water, like you don't know how to swim all of a sudden!" He teased. Christine remained on the steps of the pool, clutching the rail. She shivered from the cool drops that landed on her and glared at him mockingly.
"Not all of us like to jump in cannonball style, some people like to get used to the water first!"
Raoul rolled his eyes and surged forward to grab her wrists. He ignored Christine as she shrieked in laughter and tried to get away from him. "No, Raoul! Don't you dare dunk me under!"
"Who said anything about dunking you?" He asked, all innocence, as he pulled her into the water, up to her shoulders. "We're on vacation, loosen up!"
Christine laughed and pushed against him, "Let go of my wrists! You'll mess up my ink!"
Raoul let go of her and raised his eyebrows. "They're tattoos, Christine. They can't get smeared or wash off,"
Christine held up her wrist and examined the small tattoo, newly acquired in a fit of rebellion. Her father had detested tattooed women, he'd even been against her navel piercing. Upon landing in Rome, Christine had felt a deep urge for reinvention- if she was to embark on yet another new life, she wanted to make changes in her appearance.
The tattoo was not such a grand statement- it was small, for one thing, and rather than full color, she had opted instead for a simple black design of a flying dove. She equated herself to the bird: peaceful, gentle, free…she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the tattoo.
"How does it feel?" Raoul asked as he watched her.
Christine shrugged, "Still a little tender, but it's more itchy than anything else. What about yours?"
When Christine had announced that she wanted a tattoo earlier in the week, Raoul in his usual style had taken it as a challenge. Not only had he paid for hers, but he'd gotten one for himself, a black animal design like hers, but much larger and placed high on his chest, just over his heart. He'd chosen a male African lion, giving credence to Christine's claim that he was born a "lion-hearted" man.
Raoul shrugged. "The itching is driving me crazy, but I've just tried to ignore it. Not so easy when I'm trying to sleep, but other than that it's fine."
Christine nodded. "Me too, it doesn't bother me much during the day, but when you're trying to fall asleep it's the worst! I'm sure yours is much worse than mine though, since it's so much larger. No worries, I'll put cream on yours later- I think we both could use some, I'm afraid I'll end up scratching mine right off!"
Raoul smiled. "Thanks Christine, I appreciate it."
"The least I could do after all you've done for me," Christine said, making the first mention of it in days.
Raoul mounted the steps of the pool and steadied her as she followed him to the patio table. He retrieved her towel and wrapped it over her shoulders. "I was planning to ask you how you were getting on," he said, hinting to his curiosity. She didn't give him enough credit; Raoul was more perceptive than most would think.
He could see through Christine's sudden rebellion and her more mature choices in both her dress and cosmetics. It wasn't usually in Raoul's habit to pay much attention to the junk that girls put on their faces, but lately Christine had worn it so heavy on her eyes and lips that he'd have to be blind not to have noticed the change in her. He couldn't put his finger on it, but if pressed he'd have to say that she looked like a vamp; either a vamp or a burlesque dancer.
Heavy, deeply shadowed eyes paired with blood-red lips and the tight, low-cut clothes she'd bought for herself had earned her more than a handful of interested stares and dance offers while they'd spent time in nightclubs, both in Paris and the few they'd visited in Rome.
Granted, she wasn't actually doing anything promiscuous, Raoul figured that she just wanted attention- some weird female need for proof that she was desirable.
He wondered if his idea had worked, if Erik was gone from her thoughts yet.
Christine shrugged as they left the hotel pool and went inside to return to their suite. Her voice was quiet. "Some days are easier than others, you know? I'm still not sure about anything. I keep daydreaming that if I could approach him after we've both had enough time to calm down, maybe we could work things out…I don't know…"
"Is that why you've held onto the ring all this time?" Raoul asked her.
Christine glanced down at her left hand, which contained not only Erik's ring, but also her new tattoo. Raoul unlocked the door to their room and he followed her inside. "Well, I left the house that day in a hurry, I didn't even think about the ring, I forgot I was wearing it. I've been thinking that maybe when we get back home I should return it to him."
Raoul tossed his towel over a chair and began to strip off his wet swim trunks. He was never a modest person, and as they'd been so familiar all their lives, he felt no need to change his clothes in the bathroom.
Besides, his body was nothing that she had not seen before, so why bother to hide?
Christine didn't mind Raoul's male nonchalance, in fact she'd come to embrace his outlook and she proceeded to strip off her own suit on the other side of the room. She'd never felt too conscious of her body, and didn't mind much if Raoul's eyes strayed towards her on occasion- he was only human, a man, and was bound to stare at exposed breasts wherever he could find them. Likewise, Christine's eyes were guilty of the occasional "measuring".
Though they were naked, with nothing to block one's view of the other, nothing had ever come of it. Raoul, in fact had not even made mention of their strange arrangement until that very night. He stepped into a pair of boxer briefs and then pulled on a pair of lightweight cotton pants, his standard sleeping attire.
He turned and watched as Christine sorted through her suitcase for a nightset. "Your bruises are gone," he said as he leaned back against the desk, watching her closely. Yes, Erik's marks had finally faded from her skin, returning her back to her remarkably pale self once again. Raoul liked that- it wasn't right for her skin to have been so abused.
She turned, "Hmm? Sorry, what did you say?"
"Oh, I just noticed that the, ah, the bruises are finally gone. Not a trace left on your hips or your neck or your breasts. I'm glad to see them gone now," Raoul said.
Christine glanced down to her chest and cupped her breasts to inspect them herself. Raoul swallowed and looked away- it wouldn't do to get excited by watching her touch herself. Think about the World Cup, think about Ms. Giry, think about museums…all right, crisis averted, he thought to himself. Once he regained control over his young libido, Raoul turned back to her and sighed with relief once he saw that Christine was fully clothed again.
She slid into bed they'd shared for the whole of the trip and Raoul followed her under the sheets.
"I guess I can't convince you to just mail the ring back to him without a note," he said suggestively.
Christine shook her head. "I don't want to be so cold. This is personal. Besides, if I mailed it that would be no guarantee that the ring would make its way back home. This is an heirloom to his family, I can't risk losing it."
Raoul reached for her hand and took a closer look at the braided band of gold. "It is a nice ring, and I understand what you're saying, but if you went to see Erik, could you trust him not to hurt you again?"
"It will hurt to see him, I can't deny that. I still love him- the man he was before, not the monster he was to me in those last few days…it will hurt to see him again, but I can't go on wearing his ring, it makes it too hard to move on. It's like a constant reminder on my hand, you know?"
Raoul nodded. "Yeah, I understand. When you go see him, do you want me to go with you?"
Christine paused. "I'd like you to drive me, but I don't want Erik to see you with me. It would only reinforce his belief that I left him for you,"
Raoul chuckled, "In a way, you did. You're here with me, aren't you?"
Christine laughed back and shoved his chest lightly. "You just love to be right, don't you?"
"Naturally, I'm a man."
"And I'm a woman, so the same could be said about me. What do women want?"
"I know the answer to that," Raoul said confidently, "Everything!"
Christine laughed. "I can't argue with that!"
"I thought not. Get some sleep Christine, tomorrow night we're flying home. The sooner you give the ring back, the better. It's time to move on," Raoul said, with the same level of confidence as before.
Christine nodded, "You're right, Raoul. You're almost always right."