Sleeping Beauty Erik, The Phantom After a short time came the moment in which Nadir eventually started for his flat and Yvette fell asleep on the sofa. The house seemed empty, as if a grave-robber had stolen the contents of the casket's dank insides. No valuables remained there, save for the decaying body of the dead one's corpse, but similarly, only I stood -- and resolute. With Daroga left the clearing of an ill-parched throat, the voice of a friend in polite conversation, and the whistling of a congested nose. With my sister's slumber left the sweet aroma of perfume in every corner, the soft swishing of her gown against the stone floor, and the slight tap of her booted footfall. The mantle-clock sounded 1 AM: I had noticed at last, that it was the New Year. Before my recognition of 1883, my head had been in the clouds, or rather, my thoughts had been hazy. I blamed it on the wind chill on the roof, for such a thing could never utter an opinion of my falsehood. As if I had only been dreaming in the wake of my company, it seemed to me like I had awaken -- awaken from the nightmare of the evening -- only to stare vis-à -vis once more with the monster. The sharp and jagged teeth of the demon tore into my chest and pulled at my heartstrings. Pangs of guilt, I wonder? Had my reaction toward Nadir's foundling alerted my conscience? Had my newfound loneliness clasped hands with the yearning to care for another, weaker soul? Whatever had compelled my thoughts to sway to the Louis Philippe room, was and still is, beyond my vast comprehension. I soon found myself drawn to the door of the adjoining chamber. My hands, once clammy, were now wet with perspiration as I caressed the cherry-wood of that entity which separated me from that which I desired to see. I pressed my left ear to the door, leaning in to hear only the sound of the crackling fire. My heart sunk and began to flutter in my stomach, my brain commenced to pulsate in my skull, I found myself receiving goose-flesh, and from my throat arose a sob. Without anymore hesitation, I clutched the doorknob in my sweating, sticky fingers, and pushed my way through, to the other side; into the Louis Philippe room. All had gone shadowy since last I approached my "guest" chamber. The flames of both the fireplace and candleholders had diminished ever closer to their cores, ember and wick. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior, for not only had the main room been well-heated from a tended fire, but the candelabras had not yet used their fat so hungrily. After adding some paper to the fire then, I moved along gingerly, to the bed, in fear of what I may find. The girl had finally moved: she no longer lay on her side, but upon her back. Her knees were in the air, the blankets and her dress hiked up over her thighs, revealing her bloomers. Her hands were over her head, arms resting upon the pillow of her red, snarled tresses. No longer tight around her torso, her corset was nearly rising from her body, exposing a lace undershirt of sorts, barely covering her lush and firm breasts. My breath caught in my throat as I looked upon her. She was a mess, both in unseemliness and propriety. I could only feel aroused by the sight of the woman, after all, just as any male would confess, such devilry is sometimes much more appetizing than instinctively virginal sweetness. My manhood hardened and tightened my trousers. Still closer I advanced upon the sleeping beauty. I was being pushed forward by a force that made me feel both low and high, for only as my eyes intensely searched every contour of her body with pleasure, had I seen the small swell of her belly. I was not the only suffering, through manly urges. She was not the only suffering, through feverish dreams. We were not the only ones suffering, through our own sicknesses. No, we were not alone -- the woman was with child. "Oh Lord.Oh damn me." I whimpered in vain, falling to my knees at the bedside, putting my heavy head in my awaiting hands. And I sobbed -- I wept bitterly -- in shock and disgrace. I do not recall how long I had stood upon my knees with the weight of shame upon my shoulders, nor do I recall the way in which I had found enough strength to, despite lack of decorum, cleanse the female's body until it shown flush in hue and free of any outward grime. In fact, I was much too shaken up, if not a little wild with guilt, to even care. Later, I pulled an armchair nearer the bed and watched over the creature, my chin resting in my hand and my eyes glazed over. I was lost in my mind. I was alone in a swirl of tortured reflection. Thus I utilized my time in the Louis Philippe room, until at last, I too dozed off into another world, where swarming throughout the liquid in my brain, feverish and disrespectful dreams did reside.