Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish they were. . . well, except Raoul, I guess. He's not nice sometimes.
Erik:
I lay in my coffin, staring up blankly, unexplainably tired. For once the emotions had stopped themselves and gave me a moment of tormenting stillness. I remained there impassively, my mind blank. Was I supposed to cry? Was I supposed to scream? The memories still bombarded my head, but I couldn't bring up the energy to react.
Closing my eyes, I pretended that I had died. I lay still, imagining death had welcomely crept up on me and took over my body. Moderating my breath and heartbeat, I imagined that there was a funeral. . . a group of people were there. No one cried silently. No one wept unashamedly. No one remembered me fondly. No one condemned me vehemently. Suddenly I realized that they were staring at my corpse in horror; in disgust; in shock. I was unmasked, but unable to make any move to shield my face. As much as my arms struggled to cover my head, it became more apparent that it was impossible to do so. I was still quite lucid, but I couldn't lift my arms, couldn't move my neck. My thoughts raced urgently in my mind; it soon became apparent that it was impossible to move. It was like I had been held down by invisible chains.
The screams began - those high-pitched shrieks that caught me off-guard and caused me such outraged misery. The screams filled the air, floated around my ears. Those cries of fear continued for what seemed like ages, each tearing something more from me. Those howling screeches clashed in a hideous symphony, reaching a the zenith of its crescendo, and then -
Silence.
Bitter-sweet silence.
I felt as if I had been raised away from my body, away from the pain, away from that pitiful sorrow. I was free - free. I was no longer that hideous beast that everyone silently willed to disappear. I was nothing. I was gone. Invisible.
The horror-stricken faces changed into somber expressions, almost apathetic. I recognized them instantle. Mademoiselle Perrault. Giovanni. Reza. Garnier. Madame Giry. Nadir. . .
They stood there a moment longer and left without a trace. Alone again. I savored that quiet, that peace. That emptiness.
I woke myself from the sleep that had snuck-up on me. I had truly thought I had died. . . It would have been appropriate to have perished in that room dedicated to Death. It wouldn't have been so horrible. Just. . . lonely. . .
I sat on the ground, my legs drawn up to my chest, my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth, trying to remember her voice, her scent, her touch. I thought that, maybe, if I simply remembered her, she'd come back. Nadir crept in slowly, cautiously, and I simply stared at him, not caring if he saw my face, not caring if he saw the tears mingling with the blood.
"Nadir," I said, slowly getting onto my knees; I didn't have the energy to stand, and he came closer. I could see him wince as he struggled not to reel as he saw my hideousness. "Listen to what I'm going to say, and don't interrupt me, alright?"
He nodded mutely and I continued in a sotto voce, "I am about to ask you to do me a very large favor. . . I've never felt so. . . so horrible, so miserable. . . But at the same time, I feel such. . . rage that I could and would massacre everyone up there if I lost control of myself. . ." My fists clenched when I paused for breath. Before I could stop myself, I punched another hole in the wall detachedly ignoring the pain as if it were someone else's. "But. . . I just brood over the fact that I put her through this hell. . . she hated me, Nadir, and she hates me now. I know it. . . I feel so torn. . . I'm so damn angry at myself for letting her go when I knew she would have followed me into hell if I asked it of her. . .
"But at the back of my mind, I know it was right. I know it's what I should have done to begin with. . . I can only dwell on the fact that she hates me now, and perhaps for eternity. I. . . damn it. . .it just. . . hurts me so much that I can't bear it anymore. I can't. . . I can't. . ."
I choked back the tears that threatened to spill over my cheeks, gripping the veil one last time in my blood-stained hands. I imagined I could still draw in the warmth from the cloth that came from her body, imagined I could still feel the silky hair hidden beneath it. . .
"So I am asking you this, Nadir." I gestured for him to go to my desk and pull out the top drawer. When he did so, he stared at me in complete terror and astonishment when he understood my request. My voice was hardly above a whisper, "Please Nadir. . . I can't do. . . this myself. . ." As if to prove my words, my strength gave out and I fell onto my side, laying still as death. "Please. . . ."
He stared at me, incredulous. I struggled to keep back a sob, my eyes stinging and burning. Nadir held the knife in his shaking hands, terror still on his face. His eyes were wide with shock.
"Please, Nadir. . . I can't bear this anymore. . . this pain. . . God, it hurts, Nadir! I can't take it! Just do it, Nadir. . . I'm a monster; I tried to kill you, after all you've done. Return the gesture, Nadir. I'd rather burn in Hell than endure one more miserable moment of this. I can't do this myself. . . just do this for me, and you don't have to bother with this loathsome creature. You won't have to worry about Erik - monstrous Erik! The beast who dwells in the bowels of the opera house. . . Kill me, Nadir. Just think of all the numerous times I've wronged you, wronged all of humanity. . . Do it. . .!"
Still he stared, his whole body frozen. Numbly, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and I started to nod slowly. A smile touched my lips as he raised the dagger; I closed my eyes and waited for this blessed release. It would end soon. . . it would all be done and over with. No more fear. No more pain.
Suddenly there was a soft clattering and when I opened my eyes, I saw the glint of the knife's blade on the opposite side of the room. I realized after a moment that a moan had escaped my throat and the tears were spilling down my cheeks. He wouldn't do it, I thought detachedly, as if I were watching this all unfold. My last chance. . .
"I won't do this," Nadir said quietly, turning to leave. "What made you think I could. . .?"
I let out another moan, this one more labored and a hair louder. I shook my head slowly, as if. . . as if my whole wretched existence were some nightmare. I stared at him blankly, and he shuddered under my gaze. I laughed bitterly for a long time, a laugh so horrible that even I was surprised by it. The fear was visible in his eyes as I got back onto my knees, positioned so that only my left cheek was visible.
"So," I whispered ruefully, ignoring his presence, "I've even been denied a quick death. It's not as if my life ever mattered. No one would care if I died, so what's so wrong about it?" Our eyes met, and I watched him coldly. "Perhaps I should have just died in Persia. I'd rather have gone through that physical torture than this. . . You wasted your time with me."
I got to my feet and picked up a black mask from a table near the coffin, putting it on with practiced ease. Drawing myself to my full height, I felt a such complete apathy about everything, detached from my own life. I walked over to Nadir and looked at him indifferently.
"Thank you, Nadir," I said caustically, my voice dripping with undisguised sarcasm, "for all you've done. But you don't seem to understand that as long as you keep me alive, I still die just a bit more."
I brushed past him, Ayesha circling my feet while I entered the music room, slamming the door shut. I needed to release myself in a different way, apparently. Lifting the violin, I drew the bow over the strings violently, the notes throbbing as the escaped the instrument.
(A/N: Love it? Hate it? Review please! I was too lazy to go through and check for typos and grammar errors, so sorry if you find mistakes. I'll go through it tomorrow.)