Once again, the feedback is incredible. I love to read every single review and will try to do replies this time around. This chapter speaks for itself, and so I'll let you get to reading it. There might be a slight delay after this chapter due to school getting busy right before Thanksgiving. Luckily, there's not much of a cliffhanger ;)
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"Christine?"
Her eyes widened as the voice came from directly behind her. She quickly folded the letter and discreetly stuffed it into the pocket of her black slacks, before turning around to stare into the confused eyes of her fiancé. Her heart pounded. "Raoul…" she murmured with shame.
"What are you doing?" he repeated. He set down his briefcase and gestured to the file cabinet. "Why are you looking in there?"
"I…" She tapered off as no possible excuse or explanation came to mind. "I was looking for information on some things in the past." There were no more lies left to tell, and, frankly, she was tired of lying.
"What? I don't understand."
"I was…." Christine paused, needing time to think. "Why are you here? I didn't even hear you come in."
"I came in through the garage. I forgot that I was expecting an important phone call this morning and came back to try to get it."
"From who?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing.
"Just business matters. Some guy who knew my father." He shook his head, realizing that the conversation had taken an unwanted detour. "But what are you doing in my dad's file cabinet?"
"Raoul." Christine sighed. "Don't you ever want to know the reasons for what happened to us? Aren't you curious at all? Maybe these papers will tell us something. Have you ever looked?"
"No," he replied. "I want to forget it. I don't care what's in there. What happened wasn't our fault, Christine. I don't understand why you're so worried about it. Is there something I don't know?"
"No. There's nothing. I want to know. I want to know why it happened. I think about it every day."
"Christine," he softly began, coming over to her and taking her clammy hand. "Ever since last spring, things haven't been the same between us. All because of that…I wish things could get back to normal. We're free from that. I don't understand why we can't leave it behind us."
"I can't," she murmured. "I want to know. I can't forget."
"I've been waiting for you," he continued, gently squeezing her hand. "I understand that you want to go to school. But…what if we got married anyway? You could still go to college, but we could at least start our lives. Let's put that nightmare behind us."
"Raoul, I…." She looked down toward the spotless carpet. "Frederick Oliver called. Is that who you were waiting for?"
"Yeah. He called?"
"Yes." She frowned. "I'm not sure if he's a very good person. What are you doing with him?"
"He's helping me with some company matters. But what does this have to do with-"
"He's the one who put our captors in jail?" she whispered.
Her fiancé paused. "Yes. He got to them before they could get to him. But why…what does that matter? We're safe now. Christine." He placed his free palm upward in a gesture of confusion. "What do you want from me? To be sorry they're in prison? To be sorry that evil man died? I can't be. A month of my life was stolen because of them. They would have killed me if it wasn't for you! I don't know what to say."
"You really don't want to know?"
"No. I'm sorry. I want to get on with my life. With our lives."
Christine slowly nodded, her gaze still focused on the floor. She could feel tears in her eyes as a sort of realization came over her. She gently stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, before releasing her grip and looking back up. "You're right," she softly stated. "I shouldn't be accusing you. It's…this isn't fair to you. It's not your fault. It's the way things are."
"What?"
"Things have changed so much over the last year," she continued, feeling a heavy sensation encase her heart. "Everything has. We both have."
"So we can fix it," he replied with a note of desperation, perhaps disturbed by the look in her glistening eyes. "We can figure it out."
"Raoul? Have you noticed that we hardly know what to say to each other anymore? We're not even married. We've been away from each other for months, and we don't have anything to talk about. How is getting married going to fix anything?"
"What are you saying?" he asked, again taking her limp hand.
"It's not working," she whispered. "Everything is too different. And you don't deserve this. You don't deserve me going hundreds of miles away and delaying your life." You don't deserve me lying to you all the time.
"I don't mind, Christine," he pled. "It's fine. I wish we could begin out lives…" He paused and turned away from her, running his hand over his forehead and through his hair. "Everything was fine between us until…" Anger passed over his handsome features, before slowly giving way to distress.
"Maybe," she softly replied. "Or maybe we found out sooner than we would have otherwise." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, I guess. Nothing can be changed." She wiped the stray tears from her cheek, and they were both silent for several moments.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Is there anything I can do?"
Christine sadly smiled through her tears. He had been so good to her. Should she stay, he would always be good to her. A part of her wanted to embrace his broad shoulders and to accept all he had to offer her; he still looked like the little boy she had met on the playground. This giant home held everlasting warmth, comfort, and security. It held promises of smiling, golden-haired children and frolicking pets, of cozy winter holidays by the fire and summer barbecues under the beaming sun.
She would regret it over time, though. She wouldn't appreciate it as she should have, for there would always be the feeling that this perfection was tainted. An awakened part of her also told her that she could never go back to this, a sensation that she could only feel without really understanding, an unfulfilled longing for something more. "No," she finally replied in a hoarse voice. "There's nothing you can do. Except…."
She slowly slid the heavy diamond ring off her trembling hand, continuing to choke back tears. "Here," she whispered. "Find someone's who's better than me, who will stay around and treat you well. There are so many great people out there. And you deserve to settle down with someone."
"Christine," his voice cracked slightly. "Are you sure we can't figure this out together? I love you."
"I'm so sorry." She wiped her eyes. "It doesn't work anymore. We're both going to end up miserable. I don't even know what I want anymore. I'm so confused right now. I'm so, so sorry. I should have told you sooner."
He finally took the ring from her and closed his hand over it. He took a step backwards. "There's nothing I can say?" he asked. "Nothing I can do that will fix it? I don't even know how to reach out to you anymore."
She also took another step backwards, so that the distance between them was significant. "No. I'm sorry. You can't reach me. I need to be on my own for a while. I need time to think. And you need someone better than that. You deserve it more than anyone, Raoul."
He looked away from her, and she felt horrible guilt for the pain she was causing him. Time only would have made it worse, though, would have made the parting bitterer. "Do you want me to stay for a while?" she softly asked, not wanting to leave him alone.
"No," he hoarsely replied. "I guess you'd better go now."
She slowly nodded and swallowed. "All right," she whispered. "Please take care." Eyes still blurred with tears, she grabbed her purse and turned around, rushing out the door and into the cold and cloudy afternoon. Climbing into her car, she turned on the engine and drove for several miles, before pulling into an empty restaurant parking lot. Still allowing the heat to blow over her, she leaned over the steering wheel and began to cry.
It was the first time in her life that she'd ever been alone, without her father or a fiancé, without someone warm and caring to comfort and protect her. The feeling was strange and frightening, almost heart wrenching. She knew that Raoul would take her back if she returned at that moment. He was probably hoping that she would return.
But no. She was looking for solace again, for escape from uncertainty and solitude. Outside of that, there was little left between them. She loved Raoul for being there for her, for being a wonderful person and for taking care of her. But they would both end up miserable if they stayed together. She would always be searching for something else. The last few months were evidence of that. Even if she felt confused and vulnerable at the moment, she couldn't go back. God help me.
With a shuddery breath, she sat up and brushed her tangled hair out of her tear-soaked face. She felt something poke her in the thigh and remembered the piece of paper in her pocket. Slowly, she pulled the letter out to finish reading it, recalling the sickening sensation in her stomach that the words had produced.
Honestly, if my wife gave birth to that, I would have done away with it for its own sake. I can't understand why you would risk the future of your own family. Don't you have your second son on the way? We're going to nip this thing in the bud while it's a tiny disturbance, before it becomes a crisis that destroys us all. Just remember, the company is behind me. Even Lawrence is behind me. If you try to stop it, remember it's yourself and your family that will face the consequences.
Your friend,
Frederick
Bile rose up in her mouth. She knew without a doubt that Erik was the little boy described earlier in the letter. Someone had been trying to kill him since he was a child. But why? What kind of sick people would do this?
Some resolve replaced her depression. Lives were possibly at stake, and a delay might make the situation worse. If Oliver knew that Erik was alive, then the danger was greater. She would soon return and tell Erik what she had discovered, pray that it was of use to him. She was more determined than ever to keep him alive, to not let him die after his life had consisted of the nightmare that was slowly unfolding before her.
Christine stared down at her empty ring finger as she placed her hands back onto the steering wheel. How could she feel so liberated and so alone at the same time? She sat there for a moment, watching the bare trees sway in the frigid November breeze. There was too much to think about on this day, too much to cry over. After a second, she turned off the engine and took several quarters out of her purse, before walking over to a nearby payphone. Taking a breath, she dialed a number and waited as it rang.
"Hi, Meg. Yeah. I'm back. Mind if I come over for a little while?" A pause. "No. I…I'm fine. I just…I don't feel like being alone right now."
As he sat in the tiny cell, one of the most vivid days in Nadir's mind was the next time he returned to Madeleine's house, about three days after allowing Erik into the sunlight.
He had been in a good mood on that warm afternoon, wondering where else he might be able to take Erik. There was always his small house, although there was very little to do except for staring at a few interesting pieces of Iranian artwork. How would the public react to a little boy in a mask? Perhaps they could find some other mask that blended in with his skin color, making it less noticeable at first glance. Surely somewhere in the modern era there was a solution. Surely it was no longer right to keep a child with such possibilities cooped up like an invalid.
As he came around the cracked fence and toward the familiar home, Nadir was immediately met by Madeleine. She raced out of her house barefooted, her face contorted with rage and her dark curls flying out wildly behind her. "You!" she exclaimed, almost out of breath. "You let him outside! Into the sunlight!"
Nadir's eyes widened as a wave of panic swept over him. "What! Is he ill? Is he hurt?"
"You let him outside without my permission," she continued, angrily gesturing toward the second floor of the house. "How dare you! I trusted you!"
"Madeleine." He raced over to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Has something happened to Erik?" he frantically asked. "Has the sun made him sick? Tell me now!"
She shrugged him off of her. "He wants to go out now. He wants to see the town. What am I supposed to say? Did you ever think of that, Nadir? What am I supposed to say?" Her hands were trembling now, and her voice was panicked.
"So he is well?" Nadir enquired, feeling his heart calm. He took a deep breath. "Maddy…you should be thrilled by this news. The sun cannot hurt him. It was all a lie or a misdiagnosis. How can you not be elated by this?"
"No!" she nearly snarled. "Don't you understand? He wants things that he can't have. He wants to leave this house. All because you did that! How could you, Nadir? How could you do that to me? To him?"
"Maddy!" He gripped her shoulders again in an attempt to calm her down. "Listen to me. He has every right to know the sun isn't going to kill him. No child should have to live with that false fear. How could you—"
"So it is better for him to go into public?" she harshly retorted. "It's better for him to be stared at? It's better for him to know that no one could look at that face without wanting to vomit? Is that it, Nadir? Is that it?"
Nadir could feel himself growing angry, his frustration with her ignorance reaching its peak. "Have you considered that every human being may not be as harsh as you, Madeleine? His life may never be easy, but it certainly has to be better than this isolation. Do you really think you can keep him here forever? Even as a grown man?"
"I don't know!" she exclaimed, whirling away from him. "I kept waiting for him to…." She released an anguished groan. "How could you do this to me? I don't need this now. Not now."
He shook his head. "The boy is too smart to stay here forever. I daresay he has already gotten to know just how cruel mankind can be." His eyes focused directly upon her. "He is barely nine, and I can already sense his anger sometimes. And…"
"And what, Nadir?" she snapped. "Any other words of wisdom from a man who has never even raised a child?"
Her words stung him more than she might have realized, but he kept his composure. "And someone treated like a monster can only grow up to be so."
She shook her head in denial and began to walk at a fast pace toward the house. "Leave, Nadir!" she yelled. "Leave and do not come back. Erik is no longer in need of you."
He had refrained from making another angry retort. What choice did he have but to turn around and leave? He had no legal claim to the child. With a sigh, Nadir had returned to his house in a miserable state, feeling stuck in a situation over which he had little control. He stayed away from Erik and Madeleine for some time, wallowing in his solitude, before he considered returning to them. Madeleine's anger would likely pass, and he doubted that she liked being there by herself again. Sooner or later, she would probably do anything to get away from her deformed son.
About a month after the heated exchange with Maddy, Mr. Khan sat in a restaurant some twenty miles away from his home, staring into a cup of tea and pondering these thoughts. He had needed to get away from the countryside for a while, needed to be around other people. Most of the conversation around him consisted of family matters or local gossip, and he paid little attention. One exchange between an elderly woman and a man in his later twenties caught his ear, though.
"Your brother says you are moving?" enquired the grey-haired woman. "What a shame. Hasn't your family lived in this area for years? About ten miles east of here? I seem to remember playing with your grandmother as a child."
"Yes…well…" He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "I have a good job secured in Paris now."
"Ah," she somberly replied. "Leaving your heritage for more money. It seems like many are leaving for that these days."
"That's not it at all," he defensively replied. "My wife has had two terrible miscarriages this last year. It's really taking a toll upon her health. We're going to the city to have a professional look at her. The facilities there are supposed to be excellent." His face turned a little red, as if he regretted suddenly giving out so much information.
"I see," the woman replied with more sympathy. "I'm sorry for your troubles. That is a shame."
He nodded. "Yes. I do have good memories of this area. I will miss it."
"Yes. Well, good luck to you, young man."
"Thank you."
Nadir swallowed the remainder of his tea as the conversation ended, finding it somewhat bitter tasting. He paid the bill and began to slowly walk back to his car, his hands resting in his pockets. The streets were quieter as the evening approached. A strange and unpleasant sensation began to form in his stomach. Was it all a coincidence?
After only a moment's consideration, he drove straight to Madeleine's house. The downstairs lights were still on, and he quickly climbed out of his car and walked to her front door. After knocking, he waited, praying she wouldn't come out and start screaming at him.
The door opened, and Madeleine blinked several times. Her eyes had dark circles beneath them. "Nadir," she quietly stated, appearing more exhausted than angry.
"Maddy!" he exclaimed, immediately noticing her crimson-dotted house skirt. "Are you injured?"
She wearily looked down toward the red stains. "Oh. That. No. It is not mine." She waved a hand toward the house. "He accidentally broke my bedroom mirror, cut his hands. But he is fine. Bandaged and in his room now."
Nadir frowned, doubting that accident was the right word for what had occurred. Still, he didn't want to argue with the poor woman. "I'm glad that he wasn't injured badly." He stepped forward. "May I come in?"
She blocked his path. "It's been a long day. Maybe tomorrow."
"I…" He took a deep breath. "Madeleine, there's something I need to tell you."
She looked up curiously. "What is it, Nadir?"
He didn't know how to begin, except, "Something…something is not right here."
"What's not right?"
Nadir sighed. "Will you please let me in, Madeleine? I will not stay long."
She hesitated, before slowly nodding. Stepping back, she allowed him to enter her home.
Despite the stuffy air of the prison cell, Nadir shuddered. That's where it had all begun. He almost didn't want to think about it anymore, wanted to block it from his mind like a bad dream. It was really no wonder that Erik had blissful breaks from reality, moments of insanity that he could never quite remember afterwards. Erik claimed that those moments gave him the greatest strength and stealth, to an almost superhuman degree.
Soon after Erik had accomplished his first act of revenge, Nadir had enquired as to how he had ever managed his way into Richard Firmin's heavily guarded mansion. Erik had laughed. I do not really remember, Nadir. My mind escapes me. He laughed again, a twisted and psychotic chuckle. He screamed, though, especially when I turned the furnace up. I do remember that. Scream for me, Monsieur Firmin! I said that, you see. I said that! Pity. I remember little else of that delightful evening.
Nadir shuddered again. His mind was becoming more of a prison than the tiny cell.
