Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.
Nadir:
I debated with myself, wondering if I should return to his home. More than likely I wouldn't be wanted. I smirked bitterly, knowing I would have to go through the torture chamber in order to enter.
The next day, I discovered myself going through the passages ways that would lead to that room of death. To my surprise, as I dropped into the mirror room, the exit was still open; all of the candles were out, save a few here and there. Cautiously, fully expecting another trap, I walked through the door and found Erik sitting on the bed, a wedding veil in his hands. He was staring at the material blankly, his golden eyes clouded over. He looked at me without registering my presence and I saw newly drawn blood congealed on his sunken cheeks and on caked on his palms and white shirt. I slowly came over and he suddenly took on the look of a caged wild animal. He backed away from me with feline speed and huddled into a corner, grasping the veil tightly.
"Please don't touch me," he begged hoarsely, drawing his knees up to his chest. With one arm he shielded his face as he held the veil with the other. "Stay away. . . stay away. . ."
I stared at him in confused pity, slowly realizing that he was living in some other time, some distant memory. He was trembling from the tears that fell from his mismatched eyes, clutching the white material in his hands for dear life. I could still hear him whispering "Stay away" as I walked into the outer room, leaving the panel open a crack. I decided that I wouldn't leave him in the current state he was in as his cat hissed at me loudly. It was as if she was blaming me for Erik's state of mind, but she was soon mollified when I set some food down in front of her.
I stayed in his home, feeling guilty for doing so, and made him meals in hopes that he would eat it. To my frustration, he would only take a bite or two and leave the rest untouched. With each passing day, he lapsed farther and farther into the past. He would cry out in imagined agony and pain; he would weep from remembered anguish. I could only watch helplessly as he writhed around on the ground, clawing at his already bleeding face. Once in a while I would see a glint of gold coming from the plain gold band that he always had clasped in his skeletal hands.
To my surprise, a week or so later, he had walked out of the room as I sat on the divan with an unread book on my lap. I immediately stood, my mind grasping wildly for something to say. "Do you want something to eat?" I asked finally. He only stared at me for a moment and suddenly locked himself away in his own bedroom. The sound of his organ was soon audible as he pounded away at the keys.
A few days afterward, I heard a crash from his bedroom. I jumped up in alarm and barged into the room. Erik was huddled on the floor, his hand bleeding from where he had left a hole in the wall. I was slowly aware that he was muttering to himself in two different voices. . .
"Idiot. . ." the darker voice muttered; he suddenly looked stronger, taking on the aura of power and mystery I was so used to. "Bastard, MONSTER! You were a fool. You had her in your hands, wrapped around your finger! How could you let her go? You could have had her, could have kept her. And you could have led a normal life with her as your living bride! That boy was little more than an obstacle; he could have easily been done away with. Just a quick flick of the wrist and he would have been on the ground twitching. . ."
"I know. . ." the weaker voice replied. He then abruptly became timid, catching me off guard. I'd never seen him look so dejected, so ruined. . . "I know. . . But Christine loved that boy. I wouldn't be able to kill him knowing that it would make her unhappy. . . I love her too much to make her sad. I knew she wouldn't want to live in my world of night and death. . . she needs to be in the world of day. . ."
"She could have adjusted. You could have gone above ground with her when she liked. She could have been yours - don't you realize it? Yours! She was yours to begin with! Yours before she met the Vicomte. Yours when she was little more than a chorus girl with that dull voice. . . that empty voice. . . He loved her for her beauty - I loved everything about her. She's a goddess - the light in the dark of our life. . . She is utter perfection, a true Angel sent from heaven. . . Oh God, why did she leave me. . .?"
"Because she didn't love me as much as I love her." He shuddered as he laid crumpled on the ground. . . "I would have done anything for her. I wanted to make her happy. . . she would have died with me. . . at least with that boy she'd be out in the world. . . with nothing to fear. I just wanted a normal life. . . I just wanted her to love me. . .
"And she never will. . . she never will. . ."
His body was wracked by the pitiful sobs and tears that escaped him; his mind and soul were broken beyond repair.
(A/N: Like it? Hate it? Too long? Sick of me asking the same questions? If this chapter sucked, I am SO sorry, but I promise (or I hope) it'll get better. Don't flame me please. . . well, not much, anyway. . .)