A/N: Ok I have some really bad news my laptop battery cord broke so my
laptop has no battery which means no story updates at least until I get a
new one! I'm so sorry! I know this is going to bum a ton (I hope) of
people. But I'll try to save up for one (because their extremely expensive)
but it will be a while. R&R as always! And for the record Erik's eyes are
blue (Thank you to Viin who pointed that out) except his right eye is a
darker blue and his left eye on his bad side of his face is a lighter misty
blue...
Even before she entered his home beneath the Opera House, Erik knew she was there. The soft scent of her lily perfume gave her away. He watched her for a moment before speaking. She looked so confident even with her handicap. Her blind eyes did not hinder her. Today she was dressed in a delicate pink silk with a equally blushing pink rose nestled in her hair which was piled gently atop her head.
"Mon Ange," He greeted her respectfully. He watched her head turn towards the sound of his voice.
"Erik," She nodded. He walked over to her, his footsteps echoing on the hard stones. She reached out her hand and he grasped it gently.
"How are you this evening?" He asked softly.
"Well," She smiled. It was his usual question, and she had given her usual answer. She enjoyed this familiarity with him. Though it was wearing on her that they could not get past this usual greeting, and onto something else. She enjoyed his company more than anything else. She kept her soft hand in his. Her fingers grazed against a raised scar on his wrist. She jerked back. Erik grimaced. Christina seemed to find the keys to his past more often than he wished. Now he would have to explain the story. So be it. If she wished to know the most intimate details of his life how could he refuse her when she held his heart?
"How did that happen?" She breathed, timidly placing her fingers back against the scar. He sighed softly. The angel and the demon were together at last! A voice mocked in his mind.
"The gypsies," He said simply. He stared behind her at a flickering candle. Oh how many times did he wish he could torture his captures with flame as they did him? The whip was not the only tool of pain they used against him when he did not show his face properly to the crowd. They tortured an innocent boy who was caged while they moved freely with evil in their hearts. He began to tell her the story and before he finished she was not the only one with tears beginning to flow from her eyes...
A smell that can only be attributed to burning flesh drifted up to met Erik's nose. He struggled against the burly gypsies. He was only a small boy barely seven, trying to fight of fully grown men. They held his wrist close to the licking flames. He felt white hot searing pain shoot up his arm. He screamed in agony. Through his pain he heard one of them mutter; "Serves him right! Just look at his face!" He scoffed at Erik's face. Spittle flew from the gypsy's mouth and landed at Erik's feet. Erik's leg shot out and he manage to thrust a hard kick into the man's shin. His wrist was all at once dropped from the flames as the gypsy howled in pain. Blisters and blood intermingled into one on Erik's wrist. He hurled himself away from them, but one of them tackled him to the grass. Night was hiding their deeds from the townspeople, but even if other people did know of the abusive actions against him no one would help him. A booted foot crashed against Erik's ribs. A horrible feeling inched its way up his spine, like ice was freezing through his body. Before he blacked out from the pain he felt himself being lifted up by heavy hands and dragged back into his cage. "I hope you've learned your lesson," A gravelly voice whispered in his ear before the black mist shrouded Erik's vision...
"Why would they do that to you?" Christina asked. He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide with pain.
"Because they were afraid of me," Erik said softly. Christina grasped his wrist softly.
"Let that haunt you now no more. I'm sure the men that were responsible died horrible deaths,"
"If only I could take comfort in that," He gently tipped her chin up so that he could see her face more clearly. "If only," He whispered.
"And why not," She asked oblivious to the spell she had broken. Erik let his hand drop from her face.
"I can remove the memories from my mind, but I can never remove this," He said referring to his mask. "I cannot,"
"I wish I could understand," She said softly. "But one can never truly comprehend the sorrows of another. If I could...I would,"
"I know, Mon Ange," He whispered gazing at her tenderly. "I know,"
Even before she entered his home beneath the Opera House, Erik knew she was there. The soft scent of her lily perfume gave her away. He watched her for a moment before speaking. She looked so confident even with her handicap. Her blind eyes did not hinder her. Today she was dressed in a delicate pink silk with a equally blushing pink rose nestled in her hair which was piled gently atop her head.
"Mon Ange," He greeted her respectfully. He watched her head turn towards the sound of his voice.
"Erik," She nodded. He walked over to her, his footsteps echoing on the hard stones. She reached out her hand and he grasped it gently.
"How are you this evening?" He asked softly.
"Well," She smiled. It was his usual question, and she had given her usual answer. She enjoyed this familiarity with him. Though it was wearing on her that they could not get past this usual greeting, and onto something else. She enjoyed his company more than anything else. She kept her soft hand in his. Her fingers grazed against a raised scar on his wrist. She jerked back. Erik grimaced. Christina seemed to find the keys to his past more often than he wished. Now he would have to explain the story. So be it. If she wished to know the most intimate details of his life how could he refuse her when she held his heart?
"How did that happen?" She breathed, timidly placing her fingers back against the scar. He sighed softly. The angel and the demon were together at last! A voice mocked in his mind.
"The gypsies," He said simply. He stared behind her at a flickering candle. Oh how many times did he wish he could torture his captures with flame as they did him? The whip was not the only tool of pain they used against him when he did not show his face properly to the crowd. They tortured an innocent boy who was caged while they moved freely with evil in their hearts. He began to tell her the story and before he finished she was not the only one with tears beginning to flow from her eyes...
A smell that can only be attributed to burning flesh drifted up to met Erik's nose. He struggled against the burly gypsies. He was only a small boy barely seven, trying to fight of fully grown men. They held his wrist close to the licking flames. He felt white hot searing pain shoot up his arm. He screamed in agony. Through his pain he heard one of them mutter; "Serves him right! Just look at his face!" He scoffed at Erik's face. Spittle flew from the gypsy's mouth and landed at Erik's feet. Erik's leg shot out and he manage to thrust a hard kick into the man's shin. His wrist was all at once dropped from the flames as the gypsy howled in pain. Blisters and blood intermingled into one on Erik's wrist. He hurled himself away from them, but one of them tackled him to the grass. Night was hiding their deeds from the townspeople, but even if other people did know of the abusive actions against him no one would help him. A booted foot crashed against Erik's ribs. A horrible feeling inched its way up his spine, like ice was freezing through his body. Before he blacked out from the pain he felt himself being lifted up by heavy hands and dragged back into his cage. "I hope you've learned your lesson," A gravelly voice whispered in his ear before the black mist shrouded Erik's vision...
"Why would they do that to you?" Christina asked. He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide with pain.
"Because they were afraid of me," Erik said softly. Christina grasped his wrist softly.
"Let that haunt you now no more. I'm sure the men that were responsible died horrible deaths,"
"If only I could take comfort in that," He gently tipped her chin up so that he could see her face more clearly. "If only," He whispered.
"And why not," She asked oblivious to the spell she had broken. Erik let his hand drop from her face.
"I can remove the memories from my mind, but I can never remove this," He said referring to his mask. "I cannot,"
"I wish I could understand," She said softly. "But one can never truly comprehend the sorrows of another. If I could...I would,"
"I know, Mon Ange," He whispered gazing at her tenderly. "I know,"