Disclaimer: Same as before applies…

Father Once Spoke of an Angel

By: Stealiana

Chapter 7: This Was My Life

The Ghost leaned forward, his voice low. She thought it odd that despite his closeness, she could not see his eyes.

"Erik was born cursed. He was deformed - even his mother could barely stand the sight of him. Ah, to have everything he had, and yet his mother would not love him! He had a wretched childhood… you would understand this, wouldn't you? None wanted him, so he fled. He joined a freak show, but they caged him, starved him, beat him. He was just as human as you or your friend - yet they treated him as some filthy animal. In time he made his way to Persia where he entertained the sultana, at first with trivial magic tricks he had learned. He was an intelligent man, always anxious to show off. It was a chance for his ugliness to be ignored and the beauty of his mind to shine through. His tricks gave him attention unlike the fear that painted people's faces when they saw him. However, his talents were abused, and he so willingly overlooked it. He was coerced into killing people for the sultana's amusement. Torture chambers and a Punjab lasso… Why he did not flee before they used him, I cannot tell you. Perhaps he felt as though he finally had a place among these people who did not see the deformities he hid. Perhaps he thought he could live a lie and maybe it would come true. Maybe someone would learn to love him."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a great pity, accompanying tears on the brink of falling. He did not feel as though this part of the story was the sad one, but he knew that once a person begins to cry, it is much easier to continue than it is to stop.

"I cannot imagine what it must have been like to… kill… If I had been there-"

"Ah, it is so easy to say that one would be more sympathetic than everyone else, more understanding. Erik can tell you that it is not true. All whose eyes fell upon him have been haunted by the horrors they have seen. Even those who claimed they would love him were not prepared for what greeted their eyes." He pulled back involuntarily, giving himself a mental shake. "But you have interrupted. Do you wish to have a story or not?"

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry…" She snuggled under the covers, enraptured by the spell his melodic voice cast over her. It put her at a strange sort of peace, as though her being was placed in his care, and her heart was in his hands, waiting for him to pluck and play upon the strings of her soul. "Please continue…"

"Erik eventually was forced to flee, or else he would be killed. He knew too many secrets, too much information. The most efficient way to keep him quiet would have been to kill him. However, a government official saved his life, warning him of the danger and fairly kicking him out the door before it was too late. I often wonder, if Erik had been allowed to leave of his own will after hearing the plans if he would have. I don't know - I don't know, but I think he might have stayed. It is difficult to live in a world that did not want the talents he had to offer. It would have been an easier suicide, of sorts. He would be killed by them, all he had to do was stay. But that was not the path his life was to take.

"Instead, he continued his travels until he ended up in Paris. And while he stayed, he chanced upon meeting an angel, the most beautiful woman in the world. She was from another world, a being so pure and innocent, Erik could not help but desire to have this immaculate, virtuous woman as his own. He did not think he ever could; she was perfect and he was the very epitome of a beast from a nightmare. Yet he felt if he could have her, then he would have more than the world could ever hope to obtain. He would win her while she was under the impression he was as beautiful as his mind. She did not resist as he careful constructed a dream around her. The tiny lies he wove cushioned her, and she leaned on them for support when horrible things began to happen. Erik did terrible, terrible things when he was displeased. He became a madman… or so they all said. He would stop at nothing to make her love him. He was the devil…" The Ghost's voice faded out to silence. He was not looking at her, he was looking at nothing. She could not see his eyes, but it had become evident in the tone of voice that he was being pulled back into the past, reliving whatever had befallen the cursed man and the beautiful woman. She ventured a question into the silence.

"Did he really… do bad things? Was he really like they said?" There was a moment of thought, before a slow response was drawn out.

"He was not. At least, I do not think he was. He was frightened, frightened she would not love him in return. He responded the only way he knew how. When people wanted him to act a certain way, they had always threatened or beaten him. They had never asked for his thoughts on any matter, they had never been understanding, compassionate in any form. He was unfamiliar with love, with how one was supposed to love, because he had never been on the receiving end. When he became worried she would not return his feelings, he thought he could force it out of her.

"There was a rich, handsome man, who was also in love with the beautiful woman. His name was Raoul. He did not like Erik, and Erik did not like him either. It became evident to Erik that this man, this Raoul, was slowly unwinding the dreams Erik had been building for her. He became desperate, and violent. She had seen his deformities - she would never return to him. She would be content with Raoul; she had professed her love for the handsome young man many times, when she thought Erik could not hear her. But he heard. He heard and he cried.

"He tried to make her love him. He kidnapped her, and threatened innumerable innocents and her beloved Raoul if she did not marry him. Erik thought that perhaps if she lived with him, she would grow used to his presence. Or at least she would learn not to hate him. He had become quite adept at hiding his deformities. He was sure everything would be alright. He did not want to hurt anyone - well, he did admit he wanted to tear Raoul apart piece by piece - but he did not truly want to hurt all the innocents he had threatened. He was not really hateful, merely childish. He had never really learned rationality, because he had never been nurtured in an environment that would permit him to grow and mature like any normal child. Instead, he was constantly pushed away and unwanted, and so he thought that was how the world was. Death did not hold the same horror it did for others, for he thought that Death would be relief, an escape, where none would run from his ugliness, where none would hate him. He could not understand this will to live that everyone else possessed. And he knew, he knew very well that he would embrace Death if she abandoned him.

"He told her to choose. To choose the freedom of death or to marry him. He watched her cry, yet he felt no pity. He only felt the emptiness in his soul, the growing dread that she did not love him as much as he loved her. He waited, balancing himself precariously on a thread of hope that she would still consent. In fact, as she neared him, he became sure she would… she promised he wouldn't be alone anymore… and then…'Poor unhappy Erik!'… her tears… they fell on his face…"

He caught himself; his voice would betray him yet. But to remember her face so breathtakingly close, to remember the feel of her lips upon his own… it sent a chill down his spine and his stomach hurt, aching with the loss of the angel.

"She cried with him, and he could not fight her any longer. He fell to her feet, begging her forgiveness. He insisted she go, that she leave with Raoul and never return to him. Perhaps he had been taught what it was to love, in those few sweet moments of her presence… or maybe he finally understood that the greatest sacrifice he could make to prove his adoration was to free her. It's difficult to tell exactly what caused the transformation, but he was clearly different. He was heartbroken, inconsolably depressed. That was how I last saw him. After that, he disappeared, to some unknown corner of the Earth, where he would curse the woman who shattered his being, and yet cry out for her in his sleep. He will most assuredly live out the rest of his days in torment. It is hard to change the habits of a lifetime."

His sonorous voice faded away, leaving nothing but the crackling of the fire. She lay silent for a moment, content to just think nothing. She could almost picture it in her mind, this man, this Erik, pleading at a woman's feet, begging for forgiveness. It was such a pitiful scene.

"Is Erik dead?" She couldn't help but ask - he had been ready to die if that woman left him…

The Ghost seemed slightly taken aback by her question.

"Inside… he may very well be. It's difficult to say, really. But I don't think he is. Not yet… not yet." She smiled warmly as she snuggled under the covers. Her voice was slightly muffled.

"I would have liked to meet him. I should think I wouldn't be very frightened of him…" She closed her eyes, ready to drift to sleep. The Ghost stood, his voice no louder than a whisper.

"Ah… Erik would give the world for that to be true." He looked down at the tiny child, burrowed beneath the comforter. She was so tiny, so vulnerable… she nearly disappeared under the wrinkles of the sheets. He stood for a long time, watching her methodically breathe in and out. Her blonde hair was spread on the pillow beside her, a beautiful rich golden. She looked like Christine. She was a Christine. He turned away, silently leaving the room.

The fire continued to crackle softly.

* * *

It was dark. So very dark. Why was she out in the streets? It was cold and she wasn't well yet. She was wearing a dress, a green one… or was it blue? She couldn't tell in the darkness. She was running as fast as her legs could carry her… someone was behind her, but who? She didn't know, and it didn't even matter. She had to warn someone, had to tell them…

The was a loud crack and she felt herself falling… faster and faster. Her stomach turned over sickeningly as she was swallowed into darkness.