Love

Mercedes did not feel the wound on her face. She did not notice that she was on the ground. She did not see three people running into the room. All that she could see was a bloody letter opener plunging quickly towards her heart.

Christine had, however, seen the police and decided to finish the job before anyone could stop her. The piece of metal seemed to stop short of the mark. Strange, she thought. Then she saw the reason why she could not move her hand any more. Mercedes' hand gripped Christine's wrist. Before she even knew what was happening, the sharp letter opener was flung across the room and Christine was shoved into the floor, a foot stepping on her neck.

A hot, red liquid dropped onto her face from above her. She could not breathe. Flailing around madly, she felt two sets of iron hard hands pin her arms to her side and tie her hands together. She screamed an inhuman scream, her eyes like those of a trapped animal.

Erik watched the struggle from the shadows. He had seen Mercedes fighting for her life, her porcelain cheek covered in vivid red blood. He had seen Mercedes fling the sharp letter opener out of Christine's hand. He had seen Christine knocked to the floor, only to be bound and carried away to some jail or mental institute. The look in Christine's eyes was not those of the woman he loved. He had loved the innocent young girl that he had taught, not this madwoman who attempted to cheat on her husband with a man that she had rejected.

Mercedes was standing tall in the middle of the room, but she was drenched in her own blood. Suddenly, Mercedes swayed and fell to the ground, unconscious. It took every last ounce of will power to stop himself from rushing over to her and taking her in his arms. He swiftly ran out of the room again, hailing a cab a few blocks away. It was now dark out, and the driver did not notice that Erik wore a mask.

Erik instructed the cab to go to a nearby doctor, a man whom was a friend of Madame Giry's. They got into the cab and rode off towards the mansion in silence. They reached the house to find that Madame Giry, her eyes betraying her sorrow, had cleaned out the wound. Now Erik could see that the cut was a fairly deep, straight line cutting across Mercedes' face from her ear all the way to her nose.

The doctor assessed the cut, and Erik's worst fears were confirmed. She would need stitches, and she would be scarred for the rest of her days. After checking to see that the stitches were thoroughly cleaned, he proceeded to stitch the wound closed. The process was made much easier by the fact that she was already unconscious.

The doctor finished the stitches, gave Madame Giry some salve to put on the wound, and told Madame Giry that Mercedes should see him in a few weeks to check up on the stitches. He said that Mercedes was lucky, and that she had not lost a fatal amount of blood, so she would only need a little while to recover from her wound. Then he left.

Erik and Madame Giry lifted Mercedes' limp form and carried her to her bedroom. They placed her in a large, four-poster bed, and then Madame Giry shooed Erik from the room while she changed Mercedes into more comfortable sleepwear. Erik paced outside of the room, waiting for Madame Giry to call him in. Instead, she opened the door and said, "I will stay here for the night with Mercedes. You go home."

"No. You go home to Meg and get a good night's sleep. You'll need it. I'll stay here with Mercedes." replied Erik. Madame Giry nodded, said, "Goodnight," and left. Erik then walked into Mercedes' bedroom.

Mercedes was lying peacefully on her bed, covered in blankets. She looked so beautiful to him. Even the angry red of the wound did not seem to mar her beauty. A sudden wave of guilt seemed to drown him. His hands clenched in a fist, his knuckles turning white. He had been the cause of this. Tears that he could not shed before now sprung from his eyes. He was the reason why Mercedes was in pain. He just hoped that she would forgive him.

Erik lightly ran his fingers over her injured cheek, being careful not to touch the painful cut. He then pulled a chair up next to her bed and sat in it, trying to keep watch over her sleeping form. Fatigue made his eyelids heavy, and he could not fight off sleep any longer. The last thing that he remembered before he slept was Mercedes whispering something in her sleep. "Erik."

Mercedes stood under the velvet blackness of the sky. The shimmering stars shone brighter than the city below her. A warm springtime breeze carried the scents of flowers up to the roof of the Opera Populaire. Erik's arm held her around her enlarged stomach. She looked down at her stomach, still unable to believe that a human being was growing right beneath her heart. Turning her face up to Erik's, she kissed him lovingly.

Mercedes slowly woke up to the sound of birds chirping. She felt well rested and more alive than she had in years. Her dream last night had been the first pleasant one in years. She opened her eyes to find that she was in her room at her house. What am I doing here? she thought. The memories of what had happened suddenly assaulted her mind. She was about to rub the sleep from her eyes when her fingers made contact with stitches on her right cheek. A searing pain seemed to explode from the place where her fingers and the stitches touched. She jerked her hand away quickly. Wanting to inspect the damage, she got silently out of her bed. She noticed that Erik was sleeping in a chair that he had pulled over to the bedside.

Smiling, she walked over to a mirror. The cut was slightly swollen, and it was hideous! Fortunately it did not seem to be infected, but it hurt and bothered her none-the-less. Oh well, she thought, it will heal in time, just like the rest of my scars. Without thinking, she drifted back over to Erik and lifted his mask off of his face. She then planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Erik woke up with a start. Where am I? he thought. He then saw Mercedes standing in front of him and remembered. Mercedes noticed a look of guilt and sorrow cross Erik's face. Erik suddenly said, "Please forgive me." Mercedes seemed confused.

"Why are you asking for forgiveness?" she questioned.

"Because it is my fault that you are scarred, it is my fault that you almost got killed." he replied, looking increasingly guilty and sad.

"I cannot forgive you because you are not the one who caused this. However, I need you to do one thing for me." she said. "Say you love me."

"You know I do." he replied.