Chapter Thirty Six: I Want My Mummy
-* The next moments seemed surreal as I stared down into William's lifeless eyes.
His mouth, however, was curved into a smile that sickened me to my core.
I narrowed my eyes and kicked his head with all of my might; his disembodied head flew across the room and hit the wall, flopping to the ground with a dull thud. I heard shuffling footsteps to the right of me and the Persian, Darius, the priest, and little Pierre emerged from a larger closet than mine; peeking their heads around a corner to see what had ensued.
Erik stood straighter than a nail with his hand covering the left side of his face; he was staring dreamily at the space before him, he now closed his eyes and sighed, breaking his nail-like stance and sitting upon a pew. I slowly approached him, dropping the rope on the pew before him and smiling. "He's gone" I said softly; Erik nodded, but said nothing. The entire pew room was silent and the crickets that chirped outside came in an uproar, it seemed; I sighed. "W-We can get married now" I said gently, sitting down on the pew before his and turning to him.
All hope and warmth left his eyes and was replaced by despair.
"Erik, please" I started, the four men came out from behind the corner, but, came no closer to us than that. "Speak to me, angel" I finished; he let out a heavy, heart breaking sigh and tapped his long fingers upon his knee.
"There is nothing to speak of" said he, averting his gaze from me, but, every so often, when I wasn't looking, out of my peripheral vision I would see him steal a glance at me.
"Sure there is" I reassured. "We must talk of what flowers will be at the reception, what type of cake we want, is my dress going to be coloured or white? Who will be the flower gir-"
"Persephone" Erik said calmly, interrupting me. "After you see my face, you will give me my ring back...I know it...you'll wish William was alive again...you'll wish-"
"Rubbish" I said softly, standing and walking over to him, sitting beside him and grasping his free hand with both of mine. "You and I both know that those are complete lies" I added. "Erik you're perfect. You really, truly are; I don't know what confused maniac forced you to believe differently, but I wish that person to rot for the rest of their miserable life because they pushed you into a corner and surrounded you with fables. You are beautiful, Erik, in every sense of the word" I finished, touching the right side of his face and causing him to look at me.
His eyes were glassy and it deeply hurt me to see him so wounded; but, I swore to myself that I would heal him. He sniffled and tightened his grip of my hands. "I love you, Erik, are there is nothing in this world or any other that can undo my love for you; nothing." Said I; Erik nodded slightly and leaned over, gently falling down into my lap, and, hesitantly, his hand slid down from the left side of his face. I smiled as I looked upon his face, it was almost identical to Martha's.
The skin appeared burnt and in many places the flesh was torn open and I could clearly see the muscle underneath. His lip, on the left side, was twice the size of his lip on the right side; his cheekbones were clearly visible and his left eye popped out a bit more than his right. Tears fell down his cheeks as I stared at him; he was ashamed! Ashamed to be under my gaze fully exposed. I placed both hands on each of his cheeks.
"Beautiful" I whispered, choking down sobs; it seemed, as I aged it seemed my emotions were evoked easier. Erik now sat up with an extinguished expression and wiped my tears away.
"I've made you cry.." he whispered, I shook my head quickly.
"No, no, I'm just...emotional as of late" I said; hesitantly, he reached out and almost touched my cheek, curling his fingers back into the palm of his hand before I could feel the warmth of his hand upon my face. He breathed shakily and pulled his hands back into his lap; he was facing away from Pierre, and to me, now, I decided to do something quite unorthodox. "Erik, look at me" I said, as I wiped my tears away; he glanced up to me and I smiled then, I jumped into his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his lips to mine and holding him there. He gave a weak smile through my lips and gradually cloaked his arms around my torso; but I was the one to hold us together.
A few stray tears fell from his eyes in the midst of the kiss, but I wouldn't let him go. Not until he knew how much I loved him.
It was moments later, when my lungs were wailing and blazing that I finally freed his irregularly shaped lips and kissed down his cheek until I met his neck; where I kissed until I accosted the angle of his neck and stopped, holding him close and lightly rocking from side to side.
For around an hour Erik and I remained holding each other and whispering softly to each other; he wouldn't allow me to break the hug. When we both decided the hug was over we stood and Erik hesitantly turned to Pierre; hoping he would have the same reaction as I.
He most certainly did not.
Pierre had never been exposed to anyone who remotely had a disfiguration close to Erik's, and so, when he saw Erik, he screamed. He screamed and ran before me, picking up the rope as he did so; his eyes narrowed and he shoved me away from Erik. "Get away from my mummy, you monster!" He yelled, fashioning the rope into what he called a 'Punjab Lasso'.
"Pierre!" I cried, attempting to push the child out of my way. "That is your father!" I added.
"No, he's not! This man is an imposter! Father doesn't look like that, come, mummy, stay behind me; he might be dangerous." Pierre said, I rolled my eyes and tried to step past Pierre, but he shoved me back again, this time, harder. I fell down between the pews and, although I didn't get the air knocked out of me, the back of my head smacked the ground and I was at once plagued with a brain-splitting headache.
"My love!" Erik cried, hurrying forwards, but Pierre forced him back.
"You will not touch my mummy!" Pierre yelled.
"He is your father, Pierre! That's Erik!" I shrieked, pointing to my fiancé. Pierre shook his head and a tear fell from Erik's eye.
"Even my child think's I'm a monster" said he, he sat down upon the pew and I stood, sitting upon the pew and moving towards him; Pierre jumped between us.
"Pierre Augustus, if you sit between us one more time you will be grounded; that is your father, he is Erik. Now, please, god, Pierre, move." I growled; I had never had to threaten Pierre by grounding before, come to think of it, I had never been forced to take anything away from Pierre. He was a good, sweet, honest child; I understood his worries, but, why wouldn't he just trust me?
"But, mummy, he's not father. He can't be! Father doesn't have...whatever that is upon that man's face!" Pierre cried; I sighed.
"Pierre, remember how you always asked mummy why father wore the mask?" I asked, Pierre nodded and then realization passed over his face and, quite hesitantly, Pierre turned to his father, who stared at him longingly. Pierre shook his head and got down off of the pew, still shaking his head he ran off, out of the church. "Pierre!" I cried, started to jog after him; Erik, however, grasped my wrist.
"Let him go, my angel; he needs time to think things over." Said he.
"But, Erik, he could get abducted or trampled...that's my baby running out there!" I said, grasping his hands.
"I know, Persephone, he's mine too, remember?" Erik asked delicately, pulling me back into his arms and placing his chin upon the top of my head. "We just need to give him some time, he'll come back, he won't stay away from his mummy that long" Erik finished, faintly pressing his lips to the top of my cranium.
-* We didn't get married.
Not that night, anyways.
Erik still had to plan more of the wedding since it was on hold for such an extended amount of time.
And, he still wouldn't let me plan anything.
We returned to the Palais Garnier with Darius carting along William's body, but, we kept his head in a bag and joked on the way home that he was Medusa and whoever looked at him would, in stead of turning to stone, turn into a coxcomb such as he (Erik changed the stone-to-coxcomb thing). All the way back to the Palais Garnier I looked out for Pierre, but he was nowhere to be found; Erik patted my hand and assured that he was more than likely back in our home.
Erik held his hand before the left side of his face as we walked in public; there was no way he would wear a mask that had been down his enemy's trousers.
-* Darius threw both the Viscount's body and head into the lake before our home, attaching weights to both so we would never see Monsieur William again. When we actually stepped into our home upon the lake Erik, the Persian, Darius and I searched the entire house, (Erik searched all the hidden tunnel ways and trap doors) but we all came up with naught.
-Three days later-
-* "Oh, Erik, he's not home yet!" I cried, sitting on the couch and biting my nails as Erik sat at his desk that he moved into the living area; he was working on an opera he named 'Don Juan Triumphant' but, he would never play it for me. He said it entirely encompassed all the miserable feelings of his past and that I did not need to hear it; it would only sadden me.
"He'll be home soon" said Erik, biting his pen and searching over the music sheets.
"It's been three days, Erik!" I yelled, standing from the couch and pacing in anxiousness. Erik sighed and placed his pen down, turning to me with a fatigued expression; he rubbed his face.
"He'll be back, don't worry. I did the same thing when I was younger, but, I came back; he'll come back, lovely, don't worry. He will" Erik assured, standing and hugging me; ever since we returned from the church Erik doesn't wear his mask, save, for when we go out in public (of course he has more than one mask!) I sighed and buried my head in his chest; if only Pierre knew how precious he was to me, maybe he wouldn't have ran. Maybe...maybe if I had-
"Stop, princess. Stop doubting yourself; it was not you that caused his flight. It was himself, he needed to think over some things; I bet you he'll be back to-night." Said Erik, pausing my thoughts, my brows furrowed; how did he know what I was thinking? Erik laughed at my expression.
"I'm no psychic, Persephone, however, I do know how to read facial expressions; even when they're partly hidden from my view" he explained; I nodded and kissed his chest. I loved him so much.
It had been so quiet in our home without Pierre, it felt like a happiness had been ripped from it and now all there was in the house was dismal silence (and Erik occasionally melancholishly playing the organ). I tried to fill my hours doing things to keep me occupied (besides, I had to go to dance and vocal rehearsals, I was quite busy), I drew, I sang, I made so many pastries that both Erik and I couldn't eat them all without gaining at least thirty pounds each. I read, and I sat at Erik's organ, randomly tapping the keys.
The next day, (Sunday) I vowed I would search all day and night for Pierre until the clock struck midnight. But, as I rose that morning and fetched the paper from my old bedroom (the page boy delivered our mail and the newspaper to that room) I discovered that my search was over.
I screamed in horror as I saw my little Pierre sitting in a cage without a shirt and scars covering his body, his trousers were ripped up to shorts, his hair was almost all cut off and dirt covered him. Beneath his wonderfully yellow eyes were dark, black circles and across his right cheek ran a deep scar; the mark of a whip. His torso mimicked mine from a week beforehand; when I was under William's captivity; his ribs were clearly visible and a iron collar laid around his neck.
My legs gave out from underneath me and I can't even begin to describe to you how much contempt I held against myself for not chasing after him that night in the church; how a giant ball of sadness, greater than the size of the world, swelled inside of my chest and burst threw my eyes. Causing the ink of the words on the paper to bleed into one another; however the sub-headline that sat neatly beneath Pierre's picture wasn't touched by my anguish.
'I Want My Mummy'