((Ok everyone!! Please read and review!! If you review quickly, I'll try
to have another chapter up TODAY!! lol I'm in such a good writing
mood!!))
Disclaimer: Gee, I hope those nutso-police don't come back again... They were like... INSANE MAN!!! *shudders* An-ee-wayz, I obviously don't own Erik, cuz if I did I would be in the story -with- him as his wifey!! :))))) I can dream, can't I?
To Everyone: I was too impatient for your reviews, so I just went ahead and did another chapter!! Hope you don't mind!! lol Please, review though!
My Notes: Warning: Short chapter. This chapter will be entirely from Erik's point of view, and mostly about Erik. So.... Hopefully it comes out right!! lol But I assure you there is a reason for this chap, as you'll see later.
Chapter Five: My Torture
A thunderous sky met my skin with its cold breath, cascading down the curve of my neck. Black clouds high above me, foreboding and intimidating in their vastness, hovered over all of Paris and dampened the streets with their blessing of cool rain. I hadn't the heart to leave Paris yet. I intended on finding somewhere solitary, quiet, and lacking the usual amount of people that any city would have such as Paris. There, I could end it. The torture, the pain, and aside from the more depressing of feelings also the pathetic dreams and hopes. What good were they if life had already ended, even before the demise of my physical body? No, there was no reason to live life now. No motive to exist, or to inhale another breath of fresh, night air. I'd had my fill of the darkness. Light was what I craved, oddly enough, now that I knew I would not see another day aside from this dreary evening. To for once be nourished and feel contentment. Though I knew that wishing for these things was in vein, I somehow convinced myself that I might be satisfied in simply wanting them. It'd been so long since I'd ever received such things, or had I ever at all?, that simply breaking away from being so numb and actually feeling the want for the fertility of life was enough for my heart to be pleased.
Perhaps pleased was not the word... 'Still'. This is the way to describe what I felt. I felt for once as if no one was staring at me at all, though I knew that they very well were. I felt a freedom I hadn't been granted ever before in my life. I would soon escape this world of lunatics and aristocrats. I felt complete and still. Complete all except for the void that still remained in the core of me. The empty, love shaped hole. And remembering that this would never be filled, I again returned to my somber manner, but only for a moment. I was too determined to be at ease once in my life before death that I pushed away the negative feelings, and grew numb to them, but so very acutely sensitive to the better ones, few as they were. It succeeded for a small while. But not long...
My eyes closed, I stopped on my way down the street which lead to the darkest forest I'd ever known and enjoyed the wind against my already frightfully cold face. It was like heaven to me, if ever I'd known anything remotely close to heaven. Instantly my mind went back to the cellars where I often felt a draft much like this, mustier though, through the vents that led to Christine's room. Yet, it was not her room that made it seem so musty. Simply the tunnels which the air traveled through. Why must I make this known? Because it must not be believed that Christine's room smells anything less than magnificent. Her perfumes mingling with the wild scent of the day to day tea she often drank before our lessons and her natural, tantalizing aroma were many times the ignition of the flames within my soul. It cannot be explained how her room brought so many feelings to my heart in simple words. It was not only the fact that these scents lingered in -her- quarters, but the nearly unattainable possibility that I might once have the chance to smell those sweet aromas up close, upon her skin, in her hair, at her lips. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes opened once more to break myself from this sensual reverie. I'd strayed too far into the past. The agony was slowly returning, and I decided it was better to walk and think of other things than to dwell on what might have been, even as impossible as it was.
I wore nothing, this day, but a long coat. Not even my fedora or suit coat. Simply a clean, white shirt, slacks and a coat. No, it was not time to hide myself. It mattered little what others thought of me. I was confident in the fact that my hideous features could never again cause me pain. Who can feel pain when they are six feet below ground? This was the last day my heartbeat would pound a dull but still existing rhythm in my chest. Why should I waste it with worries?
I then came to realizing how long it had been since I'd enjoyed a pastry of any sort. No, I hadn't had dessert in ages. Of course, I'd had hardly any real food at all throughout my life span. Gruel was enough for me on a day to day basis. Why focus on rich foods when your life is as dreary as a graveyard? Looking around I spied a small cafe where I remembered seeing a few children walk out with the most delectable looking cinnamon buns I'd ever seen. Immediately my feet sent me the small coffee shops' way. The people there were not too curious as to why I had come, and this I was thankful for. The brewing business of the shop probably distracted them from any real curiosity that might have come of seeing my mask. The porcelain white cage... How... limiting. This barrier between real humanity and myself. Ha. It was almost enjoyable to think about it. How odd and rather amusing it was that I, the once Opera Ghost, was meandering along casually through the city streets of Paris itself with my mask so easily seen! Truly, the hilarity of it all was very refreshing, in its own depressing way.
Yes, indeed, the pastry was as good as it looked, better. I leaned back against the booth seat, happily having finished an entire two cinnamon buns and feeling rather full at that point. A deep sigh escaped me and I even managed out a small yawn. Perhaps this day would really turn out as wonderful as I'd hoped.
Not likely...
I was soon noticing, after breaking free of my trance-like satisfaction, that the longer I stayed in my place, the more people would turn to look at me. Worse than that, I could perceive with my trained ears the whispers they were passing to one another. About me, no less! I lifted an animate eyebrow, sitting up in my seat as I strained to hear the words at the far end of the cafe. They spoke of possibilities that I might be the Opera Ghost, or if they'd never heard of my old moniker, they confessed to one another how strange and repulsive I appeared. More and more, I came to realize that what I'd mistaken for politeness had really been the expert concealing of nosiness and disgust. Just as everywhere else I had been in my life, people regarded me with antipathy rather than compassion.
Their curiosity would grow dangerous, if I was not careful, and so I soon left the area with a frown upon my face and the completeness I had thought I'd felt absolutely abolished. My pace was progressive, first very slow and then very fast, and finally I came to a run. No one in this unruly world would ever truly regard me as normal! Had I ever really been normal? I'd been born of a woman's love for her husband, like every child on this earth. Yet, that wasn't what made me human. It was the soul that came with the body. In my case, the soul was mirrored on the outward appearance. Anger plagued my weary mind and I looked around desperately for someplace to sit, to rest my mind. No more of this! No more confusion! No more pain! No more rejection!! Normality was all I needed! Normality would have given me everything I ever yearned for, ever wept over, ever wanted so badly it hurt!! If I had only been like any other beautiful human being I would have had the means to capture Christine's heart...
A sudden feeling of rage filled me. It was all too obvious that I'd been cursed with more than simply a face as hideous as the devil himself. I've been oh so graciously given a temper that, given the power, could possibly take out three duplicates of Paris. At least, I've always thoughts so. It fills me with a slight self-assurance. Easier to inflict pain than to take it.
I was glad to find that I would soon reach my destination. Already the blackened trees of the forest could be seen ahead. I felt relief fill me at this and it was easier to breathe now.
Soon, the path grew shadowed in the great oaks' gloom, a bluish haze to everything around me. Night was simply black. Stormy forests were filled with so much more. I lifted my eyes to the drooping leaves of the trees and the small crack between each of them that gave me light enough to see the sky above. So dark... So depressing.... So reflective of myself....
I started once I heard a terrifying crash like thunder behind me. At first thinking it was the storm, and then wondering if it were something else, I flashed around, catching sight of a carriage that had skidded to one side of the road because of a missing wheel. A body fell from the opening where the door had once been, but had been scraped off as the side of it hit the road. My eyes narrowed to see who it might be. A girl... My heart beat loudly as every feature of her became clearer to me the closer I came to the carriage.
"No..." I managed to breathe, my pace hastening with my pulse, "No, it can't be."
I had soon come to a fretful run, just as had many who were on the streets. Others stood by, stupidly watching agape at the scene. I was the first to her, cradling her head in my lap and stroking away a few bloody strands of rich, brunette hair whose color only deepened brilliantly with the crimson overcoat.
"Christine..." I whispered, bringing her forehead to my lips and caressing her cheek.
Oh, what cruel torment it was to see her lifeless within my arms. So many times I'd had nightmares of her death when I had not seen her for a day or so. Worrisome thoughts they were.. Now I wondered if those nightmares had been foreshadowing the event to come.
She meagerly responded with a moan full of pain, and my heart sped fast within my chest. With defiance against whoever was watching, who would protest or who stared in objection to what I was doing, I lifted her into my arms and hurried down the street in the direction of the Opera. My safety was nothing now. I would not let her die...
My feet carried me so rapidly to the front doors of the glorious Opera Garnier that I hadn't even remembered the journey from point 'a' to point 'b', nor cared to. She was growing cold in my embrace, and I held her tighter in desperation to return to her the warmth that had always been and was fading swiftly. One of her arms laid abnormally limp at her side while the other was tucked against my chest and her torso. Half way to the staircase that led to my realm of darkness I began calling out for Nadir, defying all possibilities that he might be gone after seeing the note. My eyes filled with painful tears as I grasped the situation in its full breadth. Christine was dying at this very moment and I could do nothing to change the outcome as it was. Her pulse slowed with every step I took, with every breath I managed to obtain. My heartbeat no longer matched hers as it always had in that rhythmic melody that haunted my very soul, and I felt an immense aching in my chest.
"Nadir!! Open the door!" I shouted furiously at the door as I fumbled with the doorknob which had been unexpectedly locked.
In mad surprise he threw the door open, breathing heavily from his trek to get to the entrance.
"Erik, what in God's name..."
He paused only when he saw Christine lifeless against my body.
"Great Ala..." he muttered underneath his breath as he ushered me in.
We worked all night to mend her wounds, keep her heartbeat steady, fight away her fevers and gain her consciousness.
In all my life I'd never been so frightened, even through all of the whippings, when I'd been starved for weeks at a time, tortured mercilessly. No, not even death had scared me as terribly as Christine had that night...
Mon Dieu, she is my life...
((READ REVIEW READ REVIEW))
Disclaimer: Gee, I hope those nutso-police don't come back again... They were like... INSANE MAN!!! *shudders* An-ee-wayz, I obviously don't own Erik, cuz if I did I would be in the story -with- him as his wifey!! :))))) I can dream, can't I?
To Everyone: I was too impatient for your reviews, so I just went ahead and did another chapter!! Hope you don't mind!! lol Please, review though!
My Notes: Warning: Short chapter. This chapter will be entirely from Erik's point of view, and mostly about Erik. So.... Hopefully it comes out right!! lol But I assure you there is a reason for this chap, as you'll see later.
Chapter Five: My Torture
A thunderous sky met my skin with its cold breath, cascading down the curve of my neck. Black clouds high above me, foreboding and intimidating in their vastness, hovered over all of Paris and dampened the streets with their blessing of cool rain. I hadn't the heart to leave Paris yet. I intended on finding somewhere solitary, quiet, and lacking the usual amount of people that any city would have such as Paris. There, I could end it. The torture, the pain, and aside from the more depressing of feelings also the pathetic dreams and hopes. What good were they if life had already ended, even before the demise of my physical body? No, there was no reason to live life now. No motive to exist, or to inhale another breath of fresh, night air. I'd had my fill of the darkness. Light was what I craved, oddly enough, now that I knew I would not see another day aside from this dreary evening. To for once be nourished and feel contentment. Though I knew that wishing for these things was in vein, I somehow convinced myself that I might be satisfied in simply wanting them. It'd been so long since I'd ever received such things, or had I ever at all?, that simply breaking away from being so numb and actually feeling the want for the fertility of life was enough for my heart to be pleased.
Perhaps pleased was not the word... 'Still'. This is the way to describe what I felt. I felt for once as if no one was staring at me at all, though I knew that they very well were. I felt a freedom I hadn't been granted ever before in my life. I would soon escape this world of lunatics and aristocrats. I felt complete and still. Complete all except for the void that still remained in the core of me. The empty, love shaped hole. And remembering that this would never be filled, I again returned to my somber manner, but only for a moment. I was too determined to be at ease once in my life before death that I pushed away the negative feelings, and grew numb to them, but so very acutely sensitive to the better ones, few as they were. It succeeded for a small while. But not long...
My eyes closed, I stopped on my way down the street which lead to the darkest forest I'd ever known and enjoyed the wind against my already frightfully cold face. It was like heaven to me, if ever I'd known anything remotely close to heaven. Instantly my mind went back to the cellars where I often felt a draft much like this, mustier though, through the vents that led to Christine's room. Yet, it was not her room that made it seem so musty. Simply the tunnels which the air traveled through. Why must I make this known? Because it must not be believed that Christine's room smells anything less than magnificent. Her perfumes mingling with the wild scent of the day to day tea she often drank before our lessons and her natural, tantalizing aroma were many times the ignition of the flames within my soul. It cannot be explained how her room brought so many feelings to my heart in simple words. It was not only the fact that these scents lingered in -her- quarters, but the nearly unattainable possibility that I might once have the chance to smell those sweet aromas up close, upon her skin, in her hair, at her lips. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes opened once more to break myself from this sensual reverie. I'd strayed too far into the past. The agony was slowly returning, and I decided it was better to walk and think of other things than to dwell on what might have been, even as impossible as it was.
I wore nothing, this day, but a long coat. Not even my fedora or suit coat. Simply a clean, white shirt, slacks and a coat. No, it was not time to hide myself. It mattered little what others thought of me. I was confident in the fact that my hideous features could never again cause me pain. Who can feel pain when they are six feet below ground? This was the last day my heartbeat would pound a dull but still existing rhythm in my chest. Why should I waste it with worries?
I then came to realizing how long it had been since I'd enjoyed a pastry of any sort. No, I hadn't had dessert in ages. Of course, I'd had hardly any real food at all throughout my life span. Gruel was enough for me on a day to day basis. Why focus on rich foods when your life is as dreary as a graveyard? Looking around I spied a small cafe where I remembered seeing a few children walk out with the most delectable looking cinnamon buns I'd ever seen. Immediately my feet sent me the small coffee shops' way. The people there were not too curious as to why I had come, and this I was thankful for. The brewing business of the shop probably distracted them from any real curiosity that might have come of seeing my mask. The porcelain white cage... How... limiting. This barrier between real humanity and myself. Ha. It was almost enjoyable to think about it. How odd and rather amusing it was that I, the once Opera Ghost, was meandering along casually through the city streets of Paris itself with my mask so easily seen! Truly, the hilarity of it all was very refreshing, in its own depressing way.
Yes, indeed, the pastry was as good as it looked, better. I leaned back against the booth seat, happily having finished an entire two cinnamon buns and feeling rather full at that point. A deep sigh escaped me and I even managed out a small yawn. Perhaps this day would really turn out as wonderful as I'd hoped.
Not likely...
I was soon noticing, after breaking free of my trance-like satisfaction, that the longer I stayed in my place, the more people would turn to look at me. Worse than that, I could perceive with my trained ears the whispers they were passing to one another. About me, no less! I lifted an animate eyebrow, sitting up in my seat as I strained to hear the words at the far end of the cafe. They spoke of possibilities that I might be the Opera Ghost, or if they'd never heard of my old moniker, they confessed to one another how strange and repulsive I appeared. More and more, I came to realize that what I'd mistaken for politeness had really been the expert concealing of nosiness and disgust. Just as everywhere else I had been in my life, people regarded me with antipathy rather than compassion.
Their curiosity would grow dangerous, if I was not careful, and so I soon left the area with a frown upon my face and the completeness I had thought I'd felt absolutely abolished. My pace was progressive, first very slow and then very fast, and finally I came to a run. No one in this unruly world would ever truly regard me as normal! Had I ever really been normal? I'd been born of a woman's love for her husband, like every child on this earth. Yet, that wasn't what made me human. It was the soul that came with the body. In my case, the soul was mirrored on the outward appearance. Anger plagued my weary mind and I looked around desperately for someplace to sit, to rest my mind. No more of this! No more confusion! No more pain! No more rejection!! Normality was all I needed! Normality would have given me everything I ever yearned for, ever wept over, ever wanted so badly it hurt!! If I had only been like any other beautiful human being I would have had the means to capture Christine's heart...
A sudden feeling of rage filled me. It was all too obvious that I'd been cursed with more than simply a face as hideous as the devil himself. I've been oh so graciously given a temper that, given the power, could possibly take out three duplicates of Paris. At least, I've always thoughts so. It fills me with a slight self-assurance. Easier to inflict pain than to take it.
I was glad to find that I would soon reach my destination. Already the blackened trees of the forest could be seen ahead. I felt relief fill me at this and it was easier to breathe now.
Soon, the path grew shadowed in the great oaks' gloom, a bluish haze to everything around me. Night was simply black. Stormy forests were filled with so much more. I lifted my eyes to the drooping leaves of the trees and the small crack between each of them that gave me light enough to see the sky above. So dark... So depressing.... So reflective of myself....
I started once I heard a terrifying crash like thunder behind me. At first thinking it was the storm, and then wondering if it were something else, I flashed around, catching sight of a carriage that had skidded to one side of the road because of a missing wheel. A body fell from the opening where the door had once been, but had been scraped off as the side of it hit the road. My eyes narrowed to see who it might be. A girl... My heart beat loudly as every feature of her became clearer to me the closer I came to the carriage.
"No..." I managed to breathe, my pace hastening with my pulse, "No, it can't be."
I had soon come to a fretful run, just as had many who were on the streets. Others stood by, stupidly watching agape at the scene. I was the first to her, cradling her head in my lap and stroking away a few bloody strands of rich, brunette hair whose color only deepened brilliantly with the crimson overcoat.
"Christine..." I whispered, bringing her forehead to my lips and caressing her cheek.
Oh, what cruel torment it was to see her lifeless within my arms. So many times I'd had nightmares of her death when I had not seen her for a day or so. Worrisome thoughts they were.. Now I wondered if those nightmares had been foreshadowing the event to come.
She meagerly responded with a moan full of pain, and my heart sped fast within my chest. With defiance against whoever was watching, who would protest or who stared in objection to what I was doing, I lifted her into my arms and hurried down the street in the direction of the Opera. My safety was nothing now. I would not let her die...
My feet carried me so rapidly to the front doors of the glorious Opera Garnier that I hadn't even remembered the journey from point 'a' to point 'b', nor cared to. She was growing cold in my embrace, and I held her tighter in desperation to return to her the warmth that had always been and was fading swiftly. One of her arms laid abnormally limp at her side while the other was tucked against my chest and her torso. Half way to the staircase that led to my realm of darkness I began calling out for Nadir, defying all possibilities that he might be gone after seeing the note. My eyes filled with painful tears as I grasped the situation in its full breadth. Christine was dying at this very moment and I could do nothing to change the outcome as it was. Her pulse slowed with every step I took, with every breath I managed to obtain. My heartbeat no longer matched hers as it always had in that rhythmic melody that haunted my very soul, and I felt an immense aching in my chest.
"Nadir!! Open the door!" I shouted furiously at the door as I fumbled with the doorknob which had been unexpectedly locked.
In mad surprise he threw the door open, breathing heavily from his trek to get to the entrance.
"Erik, what in God's name..."
He paused only when he saw Christine lifeless against my body.
"Great Ala..." he muttered underneath his breath as he ushered me in.
We worked all night to mend her wounds, keep her heartbeat steady, fight away her fevers and gain her consciousness.
In all my life I'd never been so frightened, even through all of the whippings, when I'd been starved for weeks at a time, tortured mercilessly. No, not even death had scared me as terribly as Christine had that night...
Mon Dieu, she is my life...
((READ REVIEW READ REVIEW))