Part 7
A/N: It's been a while since an update – sorry! I've been on holiday. If you have got this far then you know it is not a traditional POTO story, so if you don't like dark, Raoul-friendly stories turn back now. Flames will be used to cook my dinner! Still reading? OK, on with the story.
Christine's days soon fell into a routine of singing lessons or listening to Erik (for he had told her his name) sing or play the organ. She never got tired of hearing him sing and enjoyed drinking his tea, which she was offered frequently.
One day on a late afternoon when Erik was out on 'business' she retreated to her room and sat at the dresser, listlessly brushing her long black hair and gazing vaguely at the mirror. As she looked at her reflection a thought rose in her mind that she looked like a doll.
She frowned slightly and paused in her brushing. Thinking seemed to take an effort these days and her old life seemed like something that had happened to someone else. A doll….that was pleasing, was it not? A doll was pretty. Cared for. Treasured. Lifeless…..she blinked and started to put down the brush but it slipped from her hand and fell on the dresser, the sharp sound shocking in the dim silence.
She jerked at the sound and stared at herself in the mirror in confusion. Her thoughts were sluggish but her mind clung to them now like lifelines. She looked like a doll – her skin was milky pale (though not sickly as she ate solid meals) and her eyes were lifeless, though now filled with a growing horror.
How had she fallen so quickly under Erik's spell again? He was not mistreating her, nor had he taken…advantage of her, but she was his obedient prisoner as he had probably planned all along. She had even stopped thinking about Raoul. Poor Raoul and the others up above. They would be frantic by now – how much time had passed? She had lost count. Perhaps they had given up looking for her.
Her thoughts wandered and she felt herself craving for yet another cup of that lovely sweet tea. She had half risen from her seat when she paused. The tea….it had to the tea that was making her so compliant. The tea was drugged!
A rush of anger cleared some of the fog from her head and she stood up and staggered into the bathroom where she splashed some cold water onto her face. She stared at the porthole window. It was insane to think this way but she could just squeeze through it. She was in no condition to swim – but better to try and drown a free woman than stay as a pampered prisoner.
She would escape tonight.
Excitement and fear made her eyes gleam and then she heard a door slam in the distance, her name called. Erik had returned. [He must not suspect that I am myself (or nearly myself) again] she thought in alarm.
She let her shoulders droop slightly and a vague look appeared in her eyes. She walked slowly to the main room ('La Dungeon' she thought resolutely to herself) and whispered a greeting to Erik, then she looked down at the floor in docile politeness.
Erik looked tall and magnificent as always, a part of her mind noted, and he was carrying a big brown paper parcel.
"Look up at me, child" he instructed gently and she did so, seeing a smile on his face.
"My dear, I have been shopping for you" and he held out the parcel expectantly to her.
"How nice" she said vaguely and took the parcel from his hands. Sitting down on a cushion on the floor (Erik preferred the black leather chair for his use only) Christine slowly opened it. She managed not to scream.
It was a wedding dress, lacy, intricate and expensive looking. There was no need to ask whether it would fit her.
"It is lovely" she said dully. She was unresisting when he drew her to her feet with his powerful hands and after searching his pocket brought out a diamond engagement ring that glittered with cold fire.
"You will be a lovely bride" he murmured in pleasure as he slipped the ring on her left hand and bent to kiss her forehead. His lips were icy.
"Yes" she murmured. He nodded in satisfaction.
"After dinner go and get some sleep – tomorrow will be a busy day."
She nodded obediently. Erik left to prepare dinner in the kitchen – which was reached through the door to the right of the organ – that he never let her enter. Presumably his bedroom was reached through that door also for that was where he went at night.
She found herself wondering whether her food was drugged and when they were seated down on cushions in the corner and eating from little bowls with ivory forks (Erik preferred to dine that way) she ate only small portions for a change. However, Erik looked at her suspiciously and she forced herself to eat more, grimly reciting song lyrics in her mind to keep herself alert when she found her mind starting to drift. Fortunately he did not ask her to drink tea.
Afterwards when Erik left her to go to his own quarters she went back to her bedroom, praying that she would never see him again. Once her toiletries were completed and she was in a silk nightgown, she lay down on her bed but did not go to sleep, her eyes filled with fury.
So, Erik wished to have a doll-like bride, did he? Not her! Never her…
Though it seemed like ages she waited a few hours until she was sure Erik was asleep, the house silent. Then she sat up and lit a candle on her bedside table. Quietly getting up off her bed she took the chair from her writing desk and carefully wedged it under the handle of her bedroom door, for there was no lock.
She put on her silk dressing gown and belted it tightly. It would not drag her down in the lake and she would be able to swim in these light garments. Next – her hair. She sat down on her bed and swiftly braided her long black hair into a long rope and wound it around her head, pinning it tightly in place with ivory hairpins.
She took a few more hairpins and stuck them into her braided hair – they could be useful as weapons just in case.
Now to escape.
Taking the candle in its elegant china holder she went into the bathroom and placed it on the table there. The candle was nearly used up and would surely go out before the hour was up. She quietly opened the porthole window. She was going to get out at last! But the only way she could get out was head first – and she would make a big splash if she was not careful. It had been ages since she had dived…she grasped the rim of the window and squeezed her head, shoulders and then her arms (just) through, her bare feet dangling over the bathroom floor.
Her waist now on the windows rim she stared down at the dark lake. All was dim and quiet about her – she could just make out the surface of the lake below and wondered how deep it was. The house, according to Erik, was built on a huge, wide pillar that went down to the lake bottom.
She drew in a huge breath, prayed to God and all the saints, extended her arms out in front of her and pushing herself forward half fell, half dived out of the window and managed to slice cleanly through the surface of the water. She only made a small splash that nevertheless sounded to her ears as loud as thunder.
The water was so cold!
She sank down, down then she flailed her arms and struck out, her swimming skills coming back to her. She broke through to the surface of the lake and gasped for air, treading water, the cold water clearing her mind of any residual fuzziness. Her head dripping water, she looked up at the open window anxiously; water running down her cheeks like false tears. She blinked her eyes so she could see clearly. Had Erik heard the splash?
The house was silent and she did not hear her name called angrily. It seemed she was safe – for now. The best direction to swim in for now was away from the house, and breaststroke would be the best way as it did not make much noise.
Ignoring the coldness of the water she set off as quietly as she could, soon settling into a rhythm, her silken garments trailing gently around her but not impeding her progress. Away. She had to get away. She wished there was light to show her where she was going, but light was dangerous – it would make her stand out if Erik found she had escaped before morning.
After a while, feeling weary from the unaccustomed exercise, she risked a glance behind her. She could just make out the dim outlines of the house far behind her now. Heaven willing, she would never see it again.
A/N: It's been a while since an update – sorry! I've been on holiday. If you have got this far then you know it is not a traditional POTO story, so if you don't like dark, Raoul-friendly stories turn back now. Flames will be used to cook my dinner! Still reading? OK, on with the story.
Christine's days soon fell into a routine of singing lessons or listening to Erik (for he had told her his name) sing or play the organ. She never got tired of hearing him sing and enjoyed drinking his tea, which she was offered frequently.
One day on a late afternoon when Erik was out on 'business' she retreated to her room and sat at the dresser, listlessly brushing her long black hair and gazing vaguely at the mirror. As she looked at her reflection a thought rose in her mind that she looked like a doll.
She frowned slightly and paused in her brushing. Thinking seemed to take an effort these days and her old life seemed like something that had happened to someone else. A doll….that was pleasing, was it not? A doll was pretty. Cared for. Treasured. Lifeless…..she blinked and started to put down the brush but it slipped from her hand and fell on the dresser, the sharp sound shocking in the dim silence.
She jerked at the sound and stared at herself in the mirror in confusion. Her thoughts were sluggish but her mind clung to them now like lifelines. She looked like a doll – her skin was milky pale (though not sickly as she ate solid meals) and her eyes were lifeless, though now filled with a growing horror.
How had she fallen so quickly under Erik's spell again? He was not mistreating her, nor had he taken…advantage of her, but she was his obedient prisoner as he had probably planned all along. She had even stopped thinking about Raoul. Poor Raoul and the others up above. They would be frantic by now – how much time had passed? She had lost count. Perhaps they had given up looking for her.
Her thoughts wandered and she felt herself craving for yet another cup of that lovely sweet tea. She had half risen from her seat when she paused. The tea….it had to the tea that was making her so compliant. The tea was drugged!
A rush of anger cleared some of the fog from her head and she stood up and staggered into the bathroom where she splashed some cold water onto her face. She stared at the porthole window. It was insane to think this way but she could just squeeze through it. She was in no condition to swim – but better to try and drown a free woman than stay as a pampered prisoner.
She would escape tonight.
Excitement and fear made her eyes gleam and then she heard a door slam in the distance, her name called. Erik had returned. [He must not suspect that I am myself (or nearly myself) again] she thought in alarm.
She let her shoulders droop slightly and a vague look appeared in her eyes. She walked slowly to the main room ('La Dungeon' she thought resolutely to herself) and whispered a greeting to Erik, then she looked down at the floor in docile politeness.
Erik looked tall and magnificent as always, a part of her mind noted, and he was carrying a big brown paper parcel.
"Look up at me, child" he instructed gently and she did so, seeing a smile on his face.
"My dear, I have been shopping for you" and he held out the parcel expectantly to her.
"How nice" she said vaguely and took the parcel from his hands. Sitting down on a cushion on the floor (Erik preferred the black leather chair for his use only) Christine slowly opened it. She managed not to scream.
It was a wedding dress, lacy, intricate and expensive looking. There was no need to ask whether it would fit her.
"It is lovely" she said dully. She was unresisting when he drew her to her feet with his powerful hands and after searching his pocket brought out a diamond engagement ring that glittered with cold fire.
"You will be a lovely bride" he murmured in pleasure as he slipped the ring on her left hand and bent to kiss her forehead. His lips were icy.
"Yes" she murmured. He nodded in satisfaction.
"After dinner go and get some sleep – tomorrow will be a busy day."
She nodded obediently. Erik left to prepare dinner in the kitchen – which was reached through the door to the right of the organ – that he never let her enter. Presumably his bedroom was reached through that door also for that was where he went at night.
She found herself wondering whether her food was drugged and when they were seated down on cushions in the corner and eating from little bowls with ivory forks (Erik preferred to dine that way) she ate only small portions for a change. However, Erik looked at her suspiciously and she forced herself to eat more, grimly reciting song lyrics in her mind to keep herself alert when she found her mind starting to drift. Fortunately he did not ask her to drink tea.
Afterwards when Erik left her to go to his own quarters she went back to her bedroom, praying that she would never see him again. Once her toiletries were completed and she was in a silk nightgown, she lay down on her bed but did not go to sleep, her eyes filled with fury.
So, Erik wished to have a doll-like bride, did he? Not her! Never her…
Though it seemed like ages she waited a few hours until she was sure Erik was asleep, the house silent. Then she sat up and lit a candle on her bedside table. Quietly getting up off her bed she took the chair from her writing desk and carefully wedged it under the handle of her bedroom door, for there was no lock.
She put on her silk dressing gown and belted it tightly. It would not drag her down in the lake and she would be able to swim in these light garments. Next – her hair. She sat down on her bed and swiftly braided her long black hair into a long rope and wound it around her head, pinning it tightly in place with ivory hairpins.
She took a few more hairpins and stuck them into her braided hair – they could be useful as weapons just in case.
Now to escape.
Taking the candle in its elegant china holder she went into the bathroom and placed it on the table there. The candle was nearly used up and would surely go out before the hour was up. She quietly opened the porthole window. She was going to get out at last! But the only way she could get out was head first – and she would make a big splash if she was not careful. It had been ages since she had dived…she grasped the rim of the window and squeezed her head, shoulders and then her arms (just) through, her bare feet dangling over the bathroom floor.
Her waist now on the windows rim she stared down at the dark lake. All was dim and quiet about her – she could just make out the surface of the lake below and wondered how deep it was. The house, according to Erik, was built on a huge, wide pillar that went down to the lake bottom.
She drew in a huge breath, prayed to God and all the saints, extended her arms out in front of her and pushing herself forward half fell, half dived out of the window and managed to slice cleanly through the surface of the water. She only made a small splash that nevertheless sounded to her ears as loud as thunder.
The water was so cold!
She sank down, down then she flailed her arms and struck out, her swimming skills coming back to her. She broke through to the surface of the lake and gasped for air, treading water, the cold water clearing her mind of any residual fuzziness. Her head dripping water, she looked up at the open window anxiously; water running down her cheeks like false tears. She blinked her eyes so she could see clearly. Had Erik heard the splash?
The house was silent and she did not hear her name called angrily. It seemed she was safe – for now. The best direction to swim in for now was away from the house, and breaststroke would be the best way as it did not make much noise.
Ignoring the coldness of the water she set off as quietly as she could, soon settling into a rhythm, her silken garments trailing gently around her but not impeding her progress. Away. She had to get away. She wished there was light to show her where she was going, but light was dangerous – it would make her stand out if Erik found she had escaped before morning.
After a while, feeling weary from the unaccustomed exercise, she risked a glance behind her. She could just make out the dim outlines of the house far behind her now. Heaven willing, she would never see it again.