Chapter 4-Courage
A deep throbbing pain woke Christine from her slumber and she reached up to rub the aching side of her head. The cause of the pain was no doubt the terrible nightmare she had the night before combined with her inebriation. The ghost that had come to her on the balcony seemed so real, yet she knew it couldn't have been him.
Christine slowly sat up and opened her eyes to a pitch black room. She had never seen such darkness and a chill ran up her spine at the thought of what may be lurking in the shadows. Her greatest fear had always been of the dark shadows and being snatched up and drowned in one.
Determined to quickly exit the room, she ran her hands across the sheets around her in search of the edge of the bed. She found the silky fabric to be unbelievably soft, unlike the scratchy sheets she had been sleeping in for the past week. There was little possibility she was in the same room Raoul had assigned to her when she moved into his manor. She must have wandered into a different room during her drunken stupor and fell asleep.
Christine felt farther until she found the edge of the bed and slowly swung her stiff legs over the side, then she looked around the darkness trying to spot any light that would guide her from the room. There was a thin strip of light when she looked to where the baseboards would be. It had to be a door.
She stood and carefully traversed the room, keeping her hands low and extended so as to not stumble into any furniture. The door knob was easy to find and she slowly twisted it, opening the door to reveal a dimly lit hallway. She was pleasantly surprised by the choice of decor, mostly candles and flowers and simple paintings. The light brown wooden floorboards complimented the green and white floral wallpaper marvelously and the windows were covered with pale blue satin curtains which were pulled back to reveal the night sky.
Christine stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her, being sure to not make any noises so as to not wake anyone. She curiously wondered where she was as she wandered down the hallway, looking around at the various paintings that hung on the walls. The home wasn't familiar to her in the slightest. Perhaps, it was one of the buildings on the grounds of the estate.
As she came closer to a set of stairs, she heard the faint sound of humming accompanied by the occasional musical trill of a piano. She smiled and headed down the stairs, running her hand along the banister, glancing around to see the same simple decor as the hallway. The consistency pleased her and as she reached the bottom floor, the music was louder.
She turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and entered the parlor, taking note of the two red chairs nestled in front of the burning fireplace and the pair of brown couches by the large window. Many flowers and plants were placed around the room, beautifully complimenting the tables they were set upon. This was definitely an improvement to the gaudy manor that Raoul called home.
Then she turned towards the music, opening her mouth to greet who she assumed was going to be one of Raoul's friends or family members.
Christine stopped in her tracks, taking in the form that sat at the piano. He was sitting straight up, pen in one hand scribbling quickly on a sheet of paper, the other lightly pressing the ivory keys of the piano. His white dress shirt was tucked into black trousers and his hair slicked back from his face. She couldn't see his face, but she was sure if she could, a mask would be covering half of it. Quiet mumbles were heard between his humming, as if he were speaking with himself. It was a rather odd sight, one she never imagined she would see again, the first and only time being the moment before she betrayed him by removing his mask.
She must still be dreaming.
What a beautiful house for such a strange dream, she thought, making her way silently to the man. Her very soul was being pulled towards the musical humming he produced and suddenly she stood a few feet behind him.
The man at the piano paused his movements, then he set his pen down and closed his leather binder. His shoulders flexed before turning towards her, his face immediately turning to pure joy and a smile formed on his lips.
Christine's eyes connected with his and she felt her heart begin beating wildly, she had to look away and hide the blush that spread across her face. She peeked back up at him, and before she could speak, he stood and closed the distance between them. His arms were wrapped around her, and he buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply.
Oh, God, she wasn't dreaming! Her eyes went wide at the realization that her abduction was real and she pushed against him, trying to be free of his arms.
"Let go of me!" Christine screamed, shoving his chest with her palms.
He abruptly stepped away and stood against the wall across from her. She looked at him with wild eyes, "You aren't dead?! But the body–they found a body. Did you–oh God!" Christine felt her legs trembling so she moved to sit at one of the chairs near the fireplace. "You killed him, didn't you?" She studied his face for any hint of remorse, praying to see any at all.
He shook his head and spoke quietly, "No, I didn't learn of my supposed death until two weeks after that night. I don't know who he was, nor do I care to know. My presumption is that your precious Vicomte killed the poor fool."
Christine scoffed, "He would never, how dare you say such a thing and why have you taken me? Where is Raoul? You must take me back now!"
He shook his head again and took a step towards her, "No, you are mine! You belong to me! That boy will never see you again."
Christine began crying, "You let me go! You let us go! Please, take me back. I don't want to be here. I am to marry Raoul, he must be worried about me. He will find me! He will come for me!"
The distance between them closed quickly and he was standing in front of her, holding her shoulders, "No! You. Are. Mine. Besides, you didn't seem too happy with that child," he kneeled down in front of her, his hands cupping her cheeks as his eyes darted across her face, "I will make you the happiest woman to walk this earth if you would allow it. Please, love me, Christine. Stay with me."
The desperation in his voice made Christine shudder, it was the same pleading from that fateful night.
But he was right, she didn't want to return to Raoul, but how was she to stay with her angel? She could never love him the way he wanted her to.
She searched his face, then stood, tugging from his grasp, now angry at his presumption that she would love him, "No, I can't, and I don't belong to anyone! Let me leave!" She turned to face him, hands on her hips and continued, "I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I prayed for you. I–I can't bear to stay here with you. Please, angel."
"Erik," he whispered, standing and placing his hands on the back of the chair, "Please, my name is Erik, I do not wish to be referred to as an angel any longer. I come to you now as a man."
Christine stared at him, his entire body was shaking and his breaths came in long and deep, "Erik, please."
The name lingered in the air, and Christine felt empowered with the feeling of knowing his name. It was rather odd though, finally having some understanding of who he really was.
Erik mumbled something inaudible while looking down at the floor, then his eyes flickered back up to her, "Christine, if I must get on my knees and beg you to stay with me, then I will. I refuse to let you go. Please, I love you."
"No, don't say you love me," tears formed in Christine's eyes and they began falling down her cheeks. "Take me back, now."
Erik's jaw clenched and turned his face away, the masked side hiding his expression, "No."
"Yes," Christine urged, "take me home. I am happy with Raoul."
His eyes shot back to her, his demeanor now cold and domineering, "Stop feeding me these false pretenses! Spare me the thought of you actually loving the same man who intends to control your life. Tell me, Christine, why is it that he thinks he can restrain such an angelic gift? Why is it that he keeps you under guard at all hours of the day?" he scoffed, "He is afraid of me, Christine. I could tell by the way he watched the shadows, the way he would linger outside your door and listen after leaving you for the night, his refusal to allow you to perform because he most likely knew I would be too weak to resist returning to you! He killed that man and passed it off as me to convince you I was dead, so you would not seek me out, I presume. I cannot, in good faith, allow you to return to that fool!" his voice bellowed through the house, the vibrations sending chills up Christine's spine.
"How long have you been watching us?" she asked, but her mind was more concerned of the possibility that Raoul had murdered an innocent man to pass off as Erik. It was frightening to think that he had that dark side to him, though she had seen it briefly when he tried to force her to prove her love.
"Two days, not every moment though. I mostly came at night through your balcony," he smirked, "The Vicomte's guards he appointed to protect you from my imminent return were awfully lackluster, they often fell asleep at their post, making it easy for me to leave your room and observe that child."
Christine was stunned, the thought of him in her room as she slept made her stomach feel uneasy and she wanted to be upset with him, but she couldn't find her voice to speak.
"I made a mistake. I should never have let you leave, not after–" his voice trailed off and she saw tears threatening to escape his eyes as he ran his fingers over his lips.
Her breath hitched remembering the kiss, how perfectly amazing it felt, how gentle he had been with her, how warm and soft his trembling lips were. The kiss with Raoul on the rooftop of the opera house was nothing compared to the one she shared with her angel.
Erik's kiss was fervent and profound and she felt as if the whole world stopped while he held her in his arms. It was a kiss that only existed in romance novels between the prince and princess and when he pulled from her, his expression was of pure astonishment and triumph, as if he had finally achieved what he desired most. Those few seconds before he sent her away were the happiest she had ever been after her father died. But she couldn't admit that to him as she had no notion as to why she felt the way she did during that moment.
Christine swallowed hard, "Erik, I–" she couldn't find the right words to say to him, nothing she said would explain away the feelings she had felt.
Erik took a few steps towards her, stopping just a foot away. Christine was frozen in place and staring into his eyes. Her soul was his in that moment, her entire body giving into his gravitational pull and she fought with every bit of her mind to stop herself from being consumed. She quickly looked down, focusing on the V of his shirt, and it seemed to break her trance.
"Christine, I wanted to forget for your sake. I tried to forget that you existed. I couldn't. I can't live without you. I refuse to live without you," he placed two fingers under her chin and pulled her gaze back to his. She melted into his touch, feeling her heart thumping wildly. Her eyes automatically closed and she felt his warm breath burning her cheeks, then she thought of Raoul and she suddenly tore from Erik's grasp.
"No! I am engaged. I have a fiance," Christine said adamantly, "Take. Me. Home." Her trembling arms wrapped around her body and she rubbed her shoulders, trying to be rid of her goosebumps.
Erik scoffed loudly, "Why?! So you can be miserable amongst the people who spread false rumors about you? Your fiance who still treats you like a child? I refuse to allow you to subject yourself to such torture. You said so yourself, my dear, you wanted to end your engagement, so why is it now that you are presenting yourself to me as a devoted fiance?" his eyes burned into her, and he moved closer, placing his hands on her shoulders, "No, Christine, you will stay here with me. You will sing for me, be mine. I will give you everything you desire and more."
Christine recoiled from his touch, "And if I should refuse?"
"You don't have a choice!" he hissed, walking away from her to stare into the fire, the mumbling returned and his lips moved urgently in a quiet argument.
She thought of making a run for the front door while he had his back turned to her, but she had no idea as to where they were, or how far they were from a city. Instead, she crept as silently as she could from the room, and rushed up the stairs intent on locking herself in any room she could find.
There were loud footsteps behind her and she stopped at the top of the stairs, grabbing the rather expensive looking vase that sat on the table across the hallway.
Christine turned back to the stairs and held the vase up high in one hand, ready to hurl it at him if he came any closer.
Erik stopped halfway up the flight, his eyes pleading and desperate as he held up a hand as if to shield himself.
"Please, my love, please, stay with me," he begged, his eyes focused on the vase as he took another step towards her. Christine moved backwards, farther down the hallway as he came closer. He reached the top step, hand still raised, "I promise, I will do anything to right my wrongs. Just say the word and it will be done. Please, I love you."
"No, Erik, you hurt me. You didn't love me, don't say it, don't say things that aren't true," tears fell from her eyes, and she wiped them away quickly, "I went years believing you were the Angel of Music sent to me by my father. Why didn't you just come to me as a man instead of manipulating me?"
"You, of all people, should know why I did not present myself to you! This! It was because of this, Christine!" he screamed while jabbing his index finger roughly against his mask, the tip turning red from the force he was exerting.
"I would not have cared!" Christine yelled back, still clutching the vase in her hand, "You cannot assume how someone will perceive you, Erik!"
"Oh, my dear, I know all too well how people perceive me. I've suffered with endless mockery and screams of terror all my life. How was I to know you wouldn't do the same?" he placed his hands on his hips and looked around wildly, seemingly avoiding Christine's face.
"You could have had faith in me! Trusted me not to push away the only friend I had after my father died! You have no idea how badly I wish things had been different for us, but you–you didn't think about me, my feelings, you were selfish!" her voice was hoarse, and the same tears that wet her cheeks blurred her vision. Erik's bleary form moved towards her slightly and without a second thought, she pulled her arm back and threw the vase at him with all the strength that she could muster.
It shattered against his shoulder, exploding into dozens of pieces that scattered across the floor of the hallway. A line of bright red formed on Erik's now torn shirt sleeve.
Erik cried out in frustration, and Christine saw a frightening fury overtake him. He grasped the table that the vase had been sitting upon and roughly threw it down the stairs and out of sight. There was a loud crash and sounds of splintering wood as it made a connection with the first floor. She watched in shock horror as he took in labored breaths through his nose and straightened his shirt, then he winced and clutched his arm where the glass had cut him, looking at her with desperation.
Christine gasped when she realized what she had done and rushed over to him, pulling the torn sleeve of his shirt down to examine the wound.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to hurt you," she said quickly.
He shoved her away, "Stay away. Don't touch me!"
Christine's eyes widened as she fell back onto the floor. He immediately groaned and crouched down, reaching out one hand for her before stopping short and pulling away, "Forgive me for placing my unworthy hands upon you in such a way. I don't wish to hurt you, my love," he crumpled to his knees, tears streaming down his unmasked cheek, "I just get so angry, I can't help it."
Christine sat still on the floor, her own tears still overtaking her, then slowly crawled over and lightly brushed away the glass of the shattered vase. She had been so foolish to harm him, he wasn't deserving of her anger.
"Let me help you," Christine whispered shakily, she reached out to examine his wounded arm and moved his shirt sleeve away again. The cut wasn't deep, though it bled quite a bit, all it needed was to be cleaned and bandaged.
Erik pulled his face from his hands, all anger was replaced with sadness. His trembling lips were wet with tears and through sobs he said, "Thank you, Christine. You are too kind for your own good."
Christine smiled up at him, "Of course, now, where is your washroom? We need to get this bandaged for you."
Erik nodded, then gestured further down the hallway, "Second door on the right."
She slowly stood and extended her hand towards him, which he stared at for a moment before taking it and allowing her to lead him to the washroom. It was small but large enough for the two of them to fit in comfortably. Christine moved Erik to sit on the toilet before rifling through his drawers in search of anything to use as a bandage.
She dug out a roll of gauze then wet a cloth and when she turned back towards Erik, she noticed he had already rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. His arm was sculpted like that of a Greek God and it made Christine's stomach flutter. She forced her attention to the wound and tried not to think of the muscled arm she was working on.
Christine began dabbing the blood that had streaked down his skin, concentrating so she didn't get any on the floor or on her sleeping gown. The cut had thankfully stopped bleeding and she started to wrap the gauze around his arm, suddenly aware of his watching eyes.
Christine paused her work and met his gaze. His eyes were swollen and red from his tears, lips parted to steady his breathing. His expression was full of wonder and an undeniable amount of adoration. Perhaps, he did love her, even after all he had done to her. Had it been to earn her love?
No, that wasn't love, it was obsession just as Raoul had said, she told herself, breaking eye contact and continuing to wrap the gauze. She began wondering if he was going to let her leave. What could she say to get him to let her leave? What could she say that wouldn't hurt him?
Once she had finished bandaging the wound, she patted his arm, admiring her work with a soft smile.
"There, all better," Christine stated, turning to leave the washroom.
Erik's hand caught hers and he stood, towering over her. He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his, his eyes pierced into her soul, hypnotizing her. Her body automatically pushed into his and released a sensual sigh, feeling as though she had lost all control of her mind and body.
"Erik," she whispered.
His breath was sweet and hot against her face and her eyes rolled back before fluttering closed. Christine couldn't help but push her fingers through his belt loops, pulling his hips closer to hers. Her entire body was burning, as if she had a fever, and her mind was filled with his glorious scent. The scent she would always smell when he was near, even before she knew he was a man and not an angel.
Erik's lips brushed her jaw and nipped her chin, his hands holding each top of her shoulder running his shaking thumbs over the curves of her collarbone. Christine sighed and let her back fall against the door behind her and Erik moved to press his body into hers once again. A tingling sensation spread through her and she shuddered against his chest. He was intoxicating and she wanted more, much more. His mouth left her jaw and she felt his breath on her cheeks and she wet her lips, wishing he would envelope her in his body and let her stay there forever.
"Christine," Erik whispered, his lips brushing against hers, his breath filling her senses, causing her to tremble once again. It took everything within her to not throw her arms around his neck and give in to a kiss, though she needed him, she needed him to crush his mouth against hers in a fiery blaze.
She again thought of how passionately he had claimed her lips that night. How they melted into each other and how amazing he tasted. How–
No! This wasn't right. Raoul was waiting for her to return home. He was surely worried sick and she hadn't even broken off their engagement yet! What kind of woman would she be attending to another man? She was promised to Raoul, not Erik.
Let it happen, Raoul doesn't need to know, a voice said in her mind, but she stomped out the thought and turned her face away from Erik's alluring scent, his lips instead connected with her cheek.
"Please, stop," Christine begged, "I can't, I refuse to be unfaithful even if I intend to end my engagement."
Erik stepped back, releasing her from the intense power he held over her and planted his back against the wall opposite her. His face was flushed red and so was Christine's.
"Don't be angry with me, I don't wish to upset you again. You must understand, I love Raoul," she said, though she knew her words were false . She looked down towards her feet, trying to hide her obvious knowledge of that fact.
After all Raoul had said to her the day of their engagement party, what he had attempted to do to her the night she arrived at his home and what he allowed his brother to do to her, there was no possibility she could love him. She was lying to herself, just as Erik had said.
Erik spoke then, "Still you lie to me and yourself, my dear," then he sighed, "I promise I won't touch you unless you permit me to do so," he paused, his eyes genuine eyes locked on her face, "I presume you would like to be alone. I have a room prepared for you."
Christine nodded again, "Yes, it seems I have a lot to consider," she twisted her hands and bit her lip, "You aren't going to let me leave, are you? No matter how much I ask?"
Erik shook his head, "I can't live without you."
Christine sighed then turned and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway, followed by Erik who led her down to the door of the room she had left earlier in the night.
Erik opened it and disappeared into the darkness, then the light of a gas lamp illuminated the room.
Christine stared in awe when she saw how beautiful the room was. It had light pink wallpaper and the same flooring as the rest of the house. She stepped inside and noticed the beautiful white wardrobe and matching bed frame with a white lace coverlet and silk sheets.
She glanced at the bedside dresser and gasped running over to pick up the photo that sat in the gold frame. It was her father's. The same one from the chapel of the Opera Populaire. She ran her fingers down the edge of the frame, admiring the face she hadn't seen for weeks.
"I took it from the chapel, I hope you don't mind," Erik said, moving to stand in the doorway. "I hope your room is to your liking. I tried my best to make it comfortable for you," he glanced around before his eyes landed on hers, "I will leave you now, if you need anything, my room is directly across the hall."
Christine nodded, then with one last longing look, Erik swept away, closing her door behind him. She listened as his footsteps retreated and sighed once it was finally silent.
Her focus shifted to Raoul and she sat on the edge of the bed to collect her thoughts. Perhaps it was for the best that she was away from him, after all, she wasn't sure if she would have built up the courage to end their engagement. She would have had to submit to a life without music, a life where she would never make her own choices again. She couldn't live knowing she was still being treated as a child.
Such a fool she had been to never question the guards! Several people had thought it strange and she assumed it was part of being a Vicomtess, but no, it was due to Raoul's fear of Erik returning for her. The man she thought to be dead because Raoul killed an innocent person to convince her as such. Her stomach churned at the thought of the life who suffered death so she wouldn't attempt to return to her Angel of Music. Perhaps it was a blessing Erik had stolen her away.
Christine smiled, knowing that she had at least been saved from a life of longing for the past, but now she was with Erik.
This man who murdered without thought, convinced her he was an angel for years, terrorized an opera house under the guise of a ruthless phantom, yet, part of her told her she was safe with him. His pleading and promises were so urgent, so genuine. She couldn't imagine him ever hurting her, not that he ever had, not now that she knew who he was.
Then she thought of her prayer, how she had asked God to grant someone the courage to show Erik what it was to love. Had God answered that prayer? Was it to be Christine to show him love?
There was little possibility there was any truth in the matter, as she didn't believe she could come to love Erik, nor he love her. It would be difficult to love a man who had done so much harm towards her. He still hadn't apologized for his actions, and his expression of love had just been the three simple words she had heard fall from his lips too many times. She longed to hear a profession, a deep passionate profession of love much like one from a romance novel, then perhaps she would believe God had answered her prayers.
Stay with him, a voice whispered in her mind, and she would listen to it. Christine would stay with him. With nowhere to go, and the possibility that God had answered her pleads, she would be a fool to leave. To leave Erik–to leave him broken again, she couldn't do it. She couldn't abandon him as she had that night.
But how could she forget everything he had done? He gave little care to the affects of his actions, how was she to know he wouldn't repeat them?
Christine stood and glanced around the room, the beautiful room Erik had prepared for her. A vast improvement from the room Raoul gave to her. Her eyes landed on the photo of her father again and she moved to kneel next to it.
"Oh, father, what am I to do?" she whispered, her quiet weeping filling the room.