Hey guys!
My apologizes for the late update, but I was on vacation at Disneyland for a week!
Thank you all so much for all of your reviews! I love them all, and I was beaming the entire time I was reading them all – thank you so much! I also noticed that some where a little nervous, or quite happy to read in Erik's POV. . .Especially during his mini daydream! XD Although, I want to inform you all that there will be NO lemons during a T raided story. Sorry guys, but lemons aren't allowed in fanfictions that are under T.
This chapter is named after a lyric in Falling in the Black by Skillet.
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any songs by Skillet. I only own my OC Clare!
Enjoy!
. . .
Clare's POV:
You have to go to the masquerade. My mind said. It's time – you know he's going to be there. He's going to go and threaten everyone. That will lead to Don Juan and the Chandelier. My mind planned out. You know what you have to do – you have to stop him from this catastrophe.
I watched Erik carefully throughout the months. To be honest, he didn't seem to be writing Don Juan. . .His music never seemed to match the melody very often. Perhaps he plays it when I'm asleep. I thought. Although there were several times I awoke in the middle of the night, I was always too tired to recognize it. Either my heavy eyes wouldn't allow me to keep them open, or his mesmerizing music lulled me right back to sleep. It was hard to determine that. I would have been worried to still hear him play throughout the night, fearing that he would never get rest, but his calmer, non-brooding manner soothed my concerns. At least I knew that he wasn't suffering any more. . .At least, not from what I knew of.
The day of the masquerade came quickly, and I found myself pacing back and forth in the swan room once more. Why should I go anyways? He seems so much calmer. . .He doesn't appear to have plans of going. I thought.
You should still go – you know how he is – he is sneaky - he will leave with nothing but a note behind to tell you that he had to take care of something. My mind said. And by then, it would be too late.
I knew that my conscience had a valid point. It was true. Erik was very sneaky. He would leave for the masquerade before I would even know it. You have to leave before him. My mind said. But if I leave before him, he will find out! I argued back.
He would find out either way if you left or not. You can't avoid that.
I hated being so conflicted. Part of me wanted to go, and the other part of me said that I was just being paranoid. Although I knew that if I stayed, I would be risking this whole thing from unfurling. Even if I thought that nothing was suspicious, that was a big risk to take since Erik was unpredictable from time to time.
You have to go – You even have the perfect dress to wear! I knew that was true. It all worked out now that I thought of it – Erik gave me a new dress just in time. How convenient. . .Although I still need a mask – I can't leave without a mask – this is a masquerade, after all. . .Also, even if it was or wasn't a masquerade, I would have needed a mask to wear. People wouldn't know who I was, and they would be curious. So wearing a mask, I would blend in as one of many. I wouldn't blend in from Erik though. I knew that he would recognize me in my vibrant red dress that he gave me himself. But perhaps he needed to know that I was there. Would my presence hesitate his actions at all? Would he stop? I wasn't sure, but I knew that I had to go.
I still need a mask. I thought. I then remembered that Erik had masks all over the place. Looking back at it, I recalled seeing several displayed around his organ and what not. The only problem was that they would probably be too big. What I really needed was the Don Juan mask. At least then I could tie it in the back and make it fit. I just had to leave at the right time. But how could I leave subtly? I had to somehow find a way to leave without him knowing.
For a very long time, I paced back and forth in the swan room, waiting for the perfect chance. I knew that I still had quite a bit of time before I had to leave. . .Depending on when he would leave. . .I kept peeking from behind the curtain, waiting for him to leave the room for even a moment. That was all I needed. I only needed a moment to grab the mask, and leave.
I felt a little guilty for leaving without even telling him, but I had to. He probably won't even know. I thought. After all, it's not like he's just going to come in here and say that he's gonna go crash the party. He'll leave without even telling you. . .He's sneaky p That's what makes him the Phantom. It's also what makes him so unpredictable.
For many hours, I heard Erik play the organ. I swore that he had to have been playing since the night before. I was baffled that he wasn't exhausted by then. Several times I grew drowsy while listening to the monotone notes ring from the organ continually for several hours. A few times I heard a snip it of Don Juan before it blended into another melody. That itself proved to me that Don Juan Triumphant hadn't been abandoned as I had thought earlier.
I was surprised that he never once came in, curious of why I hadn't emerged from the swan room in hours. I had crept out and visited with him that morning, but eventually slipped back into my room to plan. I think he must had simply dismissed it, and decided not to bother me about it. He probably thought that I merely wanted quiet time by reading one of the many books he possessed, writing or merely sleeping in – anything that might have brought peace, quiet, and isolation from any humanly interaction. Whatever it was that he believed, he seemed understanding about it.
Also, it wasn't uncommon to him that I would spend very much time writing. He didn't once ask me why I wanted paper and pen, not desiring to hover over me about it. He merely lent me paper – very much in fact, without any hesitation of running out (since he always seemed to have a never ending sea of papers), and a pen to write.
Many would have been curious to read what it was that I was writing, but no one, not a single soul, would be allowed to read it. . .No one but my family. . .I only would've wanted them to read it – no one else. It would have made me go into a fit of anger and cower over the stack of papers in defense like a stubborn child if anyone tried to read it. . .Perhaps I would burst into a fit of furious tears, but I certainly didn't want to test it. This was a sensitive topic – just as sensitive as Erik's mask. Erik was defensive over his mask as I was over what I wrote for hours on end.
It was not a diary, nor a story. Only my family would have been allowed to read the letters that I wrote for them. Yes, they were letters. . .Letters that they would never receive. . .
I only wrote them because I was homesick. It somehow unlocked a joyful sensation to write their names and merely unfold my thoughts and feelings into a letter as thought they were reading it. Really, it was very much like a diary, but I would start with their names instead. Although it brought some ease in my heart, it also unleashed bitter homesick tears to uncontrollably roll from my eyes in utter silence. I would remained tied up in the letters, wallowing in a faze of my past. Perhaps all of us obsessed over something. This didn't feel obsessive to me at all, though. It didn't make me feel like it was an insanity issue, it felt like therapy to me. . .
Walking back and forth through the swan room, I listened to the notes from the organ begin to slow to a calmer pace, much like a soothing lullaby. A couple times the relaxing mellow notes made my eyes droop. Before I allowed it to faze me, I shook my head, trying to remain awake. Is he trying to make me fall asleep? Sneaky bastard. . .He knows that having me asleep would make his little escape to the masquerade a breeze! I thought. Well I'll show him! My stubborn mind declared. I won't let my eyes close for even a moment! . . .Besides blinking, but whatever.
I knew it would be hard to fight my drooping eyelids with Erik's taunting organ music. It was a little more difficult than I thought. My eyes wandered the room for knick knacks to distract my suddenly tired mind. My eyes skidded to a stop upon a familiar stack of letters. . .The letters in my hand writing.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I've been here now for three months, and I long ago accepted that I would never return home. . .This is my home now. . .Many things have been happening the last three months. Lately, things have been following the story line very well. I know you all never cared about the Phantom of the Opera story line like how I did, but I know that you heard me talk about it from time to time. I'm just about positive that he will go to the Masquerade party. Usually I wouldn't have been so daring, but I must do what I have to do. I have to stop him from letting everything unravel into a disaster.
I know that you're all probably very worried, but I want you to know that I'm alright. . .I really wish you knew that. I miss you all so so much. I love you. I just wish that I could tell you that. I think of you all every single day. . .I just hope that you don't think of me as much as I think of you because it would tear me part to see you both miserable. I just want you to know that no matter where I am, I'm alright. . .
I tore my eyes away before my eyes could burn, but I couldn't prevent the lump in my throat from forming. Don't cry. I told myself. They wouldn't have wanted to see you like this – stay strong for them. I did my best to swallow the lump in my throat, doing my best not to fall into the depressing depths of homesickness that lurked deep in my heart. Instead, I tried to build my very own barriers around my heart – those barriers were part of Erik's world. I wanted to drown in his world so that the pain in my heart, that came from yearning for home, could grow numb. Did I have to drown in his intoxicating world in order to escape from the pain that always lingered? I didn't ever want to forget. . .But I didn't want to be driven into pain continually. . .I just wanted my family to know that they didn't have to worry.
Can you hear me? My mind wondered. Do you know that I'm alright? Do you know that I'll always love you? Can you feel me yearning for home? I wish I knew that you knew. I'm just so sorry that it all had to happen like this. . .
Trying to pull away from my homesickness, I desperately tried not to feel the ache in order to prevent myself from falling in and suffocating in the cold dark waters that invaded my heart. Don't fall in. . .Otherwise you'll be swept out, never to be pulled out from the vast ocean of depression. You'll be lost, never to resurface again – it will swallow you whole before you can even utter a cry for help.
Feeling helpless, I desperately tried to find an escape strategy from the depression faze. . .Before I could be plagued by depression that beat my heart and haunted my mind that would trap me in a faze. The cold faze wouldn't loosen its grip on me. A faze that would drive me into a fit of tears. . .A faze that would always seek a way to haunt me. . .
My escape strategy was to build barriers around my own world. Those barriers were made from Erik's music. Usually, I thought that building barriers around hearts wasn't a way to face problems – it was only avoiding. Which that was very true, but this also made me realize that there were some things that needed barriers. In this case, it was to keep my sanity from slipping away. At times like this, I wanted nothing more than to hear Erik play the organ, or even the violin, in order to bring comfort to my world that grew cold and dark as pain clouded over. His music was so comforting – I wanted to drown in his world and never resurface. I didn't want to feel pain. . .And in Erik's world, I could escape from it. I didn't want to face the pain.
I stopped pacing so that my footsteps wouldn't fracture into his notes. I held my breath, anxious to hear. Silently, I waited for his music to flood into my ears, and save me from the sea of brooding.
From the main room, odd notes cascaded into my ears. The same low notes rang out continually. Never once did I hear his fingers lift away, or press any other keys. Instead, the notes continued to ring in an eerie manner until the notes began to fade slowly. I had never heard Erik play like this – it sounded very odd and I was surprised that he didn't appear to realize it. It wasn't like him at all.
I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion before my legs brought me closer to the curtain. Brushing the curtain aside, I poked my curious head out. I felt my eyes widen at the sight before me.
Erik's dark form was hunched over the organ with his face pressed against the white keys. The weight of his head against the keys forced long, deep, and eerie notes to escape from the organ. The notes continued to carry on for a while before slowly fading into silence. His ivory mask faced my direction. The mask looked like it was barely sticking to his face – it looked as though it were the keys from the organ that held his mask in place. It was so odd to see him hunched over, face first against the organ, with is arms hanging loosely. I was utterly baffled.
What was he doing?
I couldn't figure out whether he was asleep, or whether he was ashamed in himself, feeling helpless and defeated by something. . .Perhaps his music? Curiously, and warily, I silently stepped out from my room and crept toward him. As I grew further, I noticed how still he remained. Once I was close enough, I took a moment to study him.
I couldn't help but noticed that his black wig was slightly unkempt from lying his face against the keys of the organ. I suppressed an amused giggle at his messy wig. He remained still like a statue. . .That was until I saw how his back rose and fell from deep breaths, indicating that he was asleep. That did make sense after all. I swore that Erik had to have been playing the organ since the night before. Who wouldn't have crashed by then?
Most people would have been worried to see someone awake for that long, although it appeared that he did that all the time. Erik's just a night owl. My mind teased slightly. Well, at least he's still getting some sleep. . .I thought, doing my best to look at it in a positive way. Let him sleep – he looks exhausted.
I also knew that this was my chance. It was the perfect moment to quickly leave for the masquerade before he would wake up. I was about to quickly take off when a thought popped up into my mind.
"Oops, can't forget the mask. . ." I muttered under my breath. My eyes hastily scanned the lair, looking for a familiar black face mask. Sure enough, nearby the miniature stage that was set up to look very much like Don Juan, I spotted the mask there, right where I expected it to be.
I tip toed over to the mini stage, and carefully lifted the sooth mask into my hands. Holding my breath, I silently prayed that I would get it to stay on my face. Turning it over, I found the black ties to hold it in place. I silently sighed out in relief, glad to have found them. I knew that the mask would be rather big on me, but at least I had ties to tie it tight enough to remain on.
Turning around, I glanced at Erik's sleeping form, almost afraid to have suddenly found him awake. Although he was still asleep, and I knew it was time. . .It was time for me to stop Don Juan's Triumphant.
. . .
That's the end of this chapter!
So what's gonna happen now? Erik threw out the score in the last chapter! Does that mean that Clare is wasting her time? What will happen at the masquerade? You'll find out soon! Soon enough, many things will unravel.
Thanks for reading! Please review!
