A/N Just a heads up, after some careful consideration, I've decided to bump the rating up to M. To fully express and write this story, I will have to use mature themes. I'm pretty sure I've pushed the T rating to the max, and I don't want to take the chance of scaring an eleven year old because there's some pretty dark bits. Well, probably to a lot of people it won't be M worthy but I'd rather err on the side of caution than take a risk. Anyway, fifty reviews! Thank you so much! Enjoy the chapter and please take the time to review!
Christine's face came even closer to Erik's.
My God, is this really happening?
Erik closed his eyes and leaned toward Christine. This was the moment Erik had been hoping for! Ah, and sweet Christine had initiated it! Had Erik not known better he would have thought that this was but a dream! The sweetest dream any man could create! At last, he –
Erik realized that the familiar pressure of the mask was no longer on his face. Cool air stroked and soothed his rough, chafed skin.
No, it was merely a trick! Simply his mind hallucinating!
It can't be. I won't let it be that.
But what if it is?
Blind panic filled Erik's mind.
Erik's eyes snapped open.
His angel was looking at him with terror marring her perfect features. Both pairs of shocked eyes briefly met before Christine shifted and collapsed into his arms.
She didn't….
She couldn't have…
Erik could only look at Christine in astonishment. No, he wouldn't believe it. This had to be some sort of nightmare. How long had it been since he had used morphine? Yes, that must be it, this must be withdrawal symptoms! Soon, he would awake in his own bed. This was nothing but a nightmare, this was –
Erik heard something shatter by his feet. He looked down. The sight of his mask in fragments scattered across the smooth, stone floor greeted him. Erik gently prodded one of the smaller pieces near his foot. He never felt details in his hallucinations. Nothing outside of him and sometimes Christine had weight or feeling; it was all visual and auditory. This would be the optimal way to see what the truth was. Erik's heart leapt into his throat as he carefully bent over to retrieve one of the smaller shards. Erik hesitated, then held the piece up for a closer look. The white porcelain made a stark contrast to the pale matte of his palm, cheerfully, almost mockingly, sparkling at him. He was scared, more scared than he ever remembered. Erik did not know how he would react if this was real. He turned his gaze to Christine. What if she truly had betrayed him? What then? He screwed up his courage and before he could second guess, he closed his hand and squeezed. Immediately, he felt the burst of pain then heard a muted crunch. He reopened his tender hand with a wince and reluctantly peered at what he held. The scrap of porcelain had been reduced to white powder, mixed with crimson blood.
…So she had.
Erik looked down at Christine's limp form, dangling from his arms. It was a sight that normally would fill him with sheer joy – and yet, those feelings had now deserted him entirely. All that was left was that ringing silence, a cold feeling creeping into his veins, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. A hot wave of disgust suddenly washed over him. Ah, so she was afraid of monsters, was she?
"Oh no, you won't escape that easily!" Erik growled.
Ignoring the burning pain in his hand, Erik dragged Christine across the room and roughly threw her limp body on the sofa.
"Wake up! Damn you, wake up!" Erik snarled, brutally shaking Christine by the shoulders. He pulled her into a sitting position, but she was dead to the world. She was slouched over, entirely supported by Erik's arms, her head rolled forward.
Erik pushed Christine back onto the sofa in revulsion and stared at her limp body. Abruptly, he stood and stormed to his kitchen, pausing only to violently sweep a vase of flowers onto the floor and stomp the corresponding end table to bits.
In Erik's absence, a brittle calm was restored to the drawing room. But, Erik returned moments later with smelling salts.
He shoved the bottle under Christine's nose and watched her sputter back into the world of the living. Upon seeing his success, Erik threw the bottle to the floor, and crushed it under his foot. He then crossed his arms, looking down at Christine in a stony silence as Christine was left to experience the full effects of the salts.
Christine opened her eyes. She sat up and looked around at the drawing room in passive confusion. After a moment, she noticed Erik standing next to her. She lifted her eyes to meet his. Erik took small satisfaction as he saw Christine remember exactly what she had done. Her gaze strayed to the exposed side of his face and immediately fell.
Christine looked at the floor and sat in silence.
She couldn't even behold the sight of the consequences of her actions! Just like every other damned human being! The foolish girl! Oh she expected a Don Juan, did she? Someone like the boy!
"So you cannot even look at me now."
"Erik," Christine whimpered, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? I would hope so."
"I…I thought that it would be alright. I wanted to see who my Angel really was. I thought…It was nothing but a silly quirk of yours."
Christine kept mumbling, but Erik had no idea what she was saying. Her words played in his head on constant repeat.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Nothing but a silly quirk of yours.
Erik felt something deep within him shatter.
He bared his teeth and launched himself at Christine. The world seemed to slow as he took in the medley of emotion on her face. Sorrow, surprise, and finally, terror. Somehow, Erik could not bring himself to care.
He violently grabbed the sides of Christine's face, pushed her onto the sofa, and pulled himself a hair's width away from her face.
"So you wanted to see who Erik was? What silly quirk he had? Then who is Erik to go against his darling Christine's wishes? You shall see who Erik is! Look upon Erik and take your fill! You'll pay for it soon enough! And Erik wouldn't want to cheat you out of this impromptu freak show!" Erik roared.
"Erik please! I didn't mean to!" Christine cried out.
"Like hell you didn't mean to! Oh you thought yourself so clever, didn't you! Constantly bringing it up, always hinting. Trying to trick your poor, unhappy Erik into showing you what was under the mask!"
"Erik, stop I beg you! I beg - "
Erik interrupted her pleading with voice which was a characture of Christine's own.
"Oh Erik! How I wish I could see your face, your true face! Come come, aren't we friends? You can show me!"
Another wave of anger wracked Erik's body and his grasp on Christine tightened. He leaned forward, shifting more of his imposing weight onto her body.
"What did you expect? One of your damned Swedish fairytale princes in hiding? Well now you know! You know what a handsome man Erik is! Oh Erik could certainly rival all of them up there! That's why Erik lives in a burrow! Oh it makes such perfect sense! My dear, your logic is utterly infallible!" Erik spat out.
He paused to punctuate this last remark. Before he could open his mouth to unleash another torrent of vile anger, Erik heard Christine take advantage of this temporary quiet. She harshly gasped,
"Erik…Stop…I…Breathe"
It was desperation in her voice, somehow different than the whining begging of before, which caused Erik to take a better look at Christine. He felt Christine's small hands on his shoulders, pushing him away with all her might. Christine's eyes were drenched, she was sobbing, and her face was almost blue. Erik's train of thought halted. Her face was blue?
Erik froze and his eyes moved down. He realized that his hands had slipped from Christine's face and instead gripped her white throat. Erik was suddenly aware of the sound of Christine wheezing.
Horrified, he relinquished his hold on her and staggered back as far as the small room would allow him too.
Upon being released, Christine immediately sat up and clutched her poor, bruised neck and gasped roughly. A fragile silence settled over the room, punctuated by the sound of heavy panting and the occasional sob.
The reality of almost losing Christine to his anger immediately sobered Erik. He forced himself to calm down, forced himself to fold his hands across his chest, forced himself to take deep breaths.
"Erik," Christine hoarsely cried, "Erik, please forgive me."
Erik looked at Christine in stony silence. She reciprocated it, albeit with a difference silence. He could see her pleading eyes, and the hope that was in them.
But she still could not look at him.
"Christine."
Her eyes darted toward his feet and back again.
The minutes ticked by and yet neither made any effort to move from their positions, Erik staring daggers at Christine and Christine sitting on the sofa, gasping and massaging her throat.
"Tell me, Christine… Did you see the sun earlier today?" Erik asked abruptly, "Did you look at the clouds and enjoy the blue sky, the fresh air, the hum of life all around you? Did you stop to hear the birds sing? Did you enjoy the warmth and soak into your skin? Did you take the time to notice any of those things?"
Christine furiously shook her head.
"Pity. That was your last chance to enjoy any of it."
