Repercussions
"You did WHAT?" Christine shrieked.
"Christine, it was an accident! You think I meant to do it?"
"I think that you didn't think at all! What the hell passed through your mind that made you do that?"
Raoul gave a start. Christine had never used the word 'hell' as a curse before. He could never remember her cursing at all. Well, he couldn't say he blamed her, considering what he had done.
"I admit, I wasn't thinking. But I swear to you, I never meant to hurt our daughter!"
"You'll forgive me, dear, if I find that difficult to believe."
"You think I wanted to shoot her!"
"I don't know what you want anymore! And right now, I don't care! All that I care about now is getting to our daughter's side, where we're needed." With that, she swept past him and headed for the stable where their carriage was. Raoul just stared after her for a moment before running to catch up with her. He knew to expect the same reaction from Aminta; hell, he'd be lucky if she even looked at him! Christine continued to tell him how she couldn't believe what he had done out of his insane jealousy and pride. Raoul could hardly hear her anyway. He was too stricken by his own actions to think about anything else at present. That, and Erik's last words before he had fired. He knew Erik could easily take Aminta from him without deception or pretense of any kind. Maybe that was why he had fired, or was it something else? He just didn't know anymore, and he didn't want to think about it. All that mattered to him now was his daughter.
The first thing Aminta knew when she awoke was that she was unquestionably not dead, as evidenced by the screaming pain in her shoulder. She let out an unlovely shriek of pain when she opened her eyes, but at least it let her know she was alive. As if on cue, a nurse came into the room.
"Poor girl," she said sympathetically. "This'll help." And she inserted a needle into Aminta's arm, injecting her with some sort of narcotic. The pain in her shoulder dulled quickly, and she realized she had been clenching her fists tight enough to draw blood from her palms. She relaxed slowly. "Don't worry, sweetie, you'll be out of here by tomorrow. You just need to keep your arm in that sling for a few weeks." Aminta nodded slightly.
"Where's my mother?" she asked softly.
"She's on her way," said the nurse reassuringly. "And your father too," she added, hoping that this would help her feel better. Aminta just gave a faint smile, sealing her thoughts inside. No reason to hurt this woman's feelings, she was just trying to help. The nurse smiled back at her and looked up at the door. "Ah, here they are!" She went and opened the door to admit Christine and Raoul, slipping out herself.
"Aminta!" cried Christine, throwing her arms around her child.
"Ah! Mother, my shoulder," gasped Aminta.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" said Christine, loosening her grip. Not looking away from Aminta, she pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat holding her daughter's hand. "Oh darling, what happened?" Aminta was startled by this, thinking that Raoul would have told her, but then she realized that Christine wanted to hear it from her. Aminta gave a little half-shrug.
"There was a confrontation on the roof between Erik and Father," she said. "I had been there getting a breath of air and talking with Erik. I was leaving while Erik distracted Father, but I stopped to listen. It's a good thing I did, too. Father, in his haste, drew and fired his pistol at Erik. I didn't even realize what I was doing until the bullet was in my shoulder. I suppose it's a good thing, then, that my shoulder is over Erik's heart, or else I don't want to think of what could have happened."
"Aminta…" said Raoul softly. Aminta didn't even look at him. She frowned for a moment, then shook her head slightly.
"What is it?" asked Christine.
"Nothing," replied Aminta. "I thought I heard something, but I was mistaken." It hurt Raoul to hear Aminta speak as though he wasn't even there, but what truly killed him inside was knowing how thoroughly he deserved it. Christine didn't speak on his behalf, and he couldn't expect her to. He simply sat in another chair and watched the two of them silently.
"How are you feeling?" asked Christine.
"Better, thanks mostly to the medication," replied Aminta. "My shoulder's throbbing, though. But I'm told that should stop soon. Other than that, I just can't wait to be home in my own bed." Christine managed a weak laugh and Aminta smiled. "Don't worry, Mother, I'll be fine." Continuing to ignore Raoul, and perhaps to punctuate it, she added boldly, "I have to talk to Erik, though. He was worried about me, and I want to let him know I'm all right."
"No!" shouted Raoul, unable to contain himself any longer. Aminta looked at him icily.
"No one's asking you," she said, saying 'you' as though referring to something she had just stepped in.
"Look, you don't want to talk to me and that's fine, I deserve it I know, but you'd rather go back to him?"
"Is it any of your business?"
"Yes! You're my daughter, I look out for your well-being-"
"Oh ho, so that's why you slashed my face with a knife and shot me."
"You know I never meant to-"
"And you know that I don't want to talk to you! I want Erik!"
"Aminta," said Christine, trying to calm her.
"Get out," Aminta hissed at Raoul.
"Aminta!" he said in shock.
"I said get out! Get out! GET OUT! I don't want you here! I don't want…I don't want…" Her voice trailed off as the drugs took hold and she passed out.
"No, no, no, and that is FINAL!"
"Raoul! You're being unreasonable!"
"Oh, I'm being unreasonable! I, the one who's trying to protect her from him?"
"You shot her!"
"None of this would have happened if it wasn't for him! She is not to go back to the theatre, and Christine I'm putting my foot down!"
'Not go back…what?' thought Aminta blearily, struggling to wake fully. Her parents were arguing heatedly outside the door, probably thinking she couldn't hear them out there. Well, they were wrong. 'How can he even think of trying to keep me from the theatre? I'm a dancer! I have to go back.'
"You can't truly believe that she'll ever listen to you. You can't keep her from that theatre, she loves it there."
"It's time she started loving reality. She can't live in her fantasies forever, and she has to learn that. We spoiled her, Christine, because of her blindness and now we have to undo that damage."
"Are you saying our daughter is damaged now?"
"Of course not! But she can't just do whatever she pleases all her life. If she wants to dance so badly, we'll find a good dance academy for her to attend. Let her make some new friends."
"And what of the old ones? The ones she's trying to get to know once again, after so long?"
"I never said she had to stop being friends with those other girls, but don't you think it's a good idea for her to make new ones?"
"I think that it's up to her."
Aminta had long since heard enough. She knew her mother was weakening; that was how her father won all these battles-make it seem like something that would be good for all of them and keep pushing her until she was too tired to keep saying 'no' with conviction. Scowling darkly, hating them both, she pushed herself up in bed, ignoring the flash of pain in her shoulder. Once the initial dizziness faded, she looked around for a moment until she noticed a pile of her clothes-black shirt, black leggings, and black boots-lying on the chair where Christine had sat before, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and clumsily changing into them single-handed when she spotted them. She knew she couldn't go out by way of the door, so she went to the window. Luck was on her side-she was on the ground level of the building. The drop was hardly five feet, and the window was wide. Silently, emotionlessly, she slipped out the window and made her way through the shadows back to the theatre.
Imagine, if you can, the fright Christine and Raoul received when they reentered Aminta's room to find her gone, her fancy Masquerade gown laid on the bed and her regular clothes missing.
"Oh God, she wouldn't…" said Raoul mutedly. "I can't believe this! Even in her condition, she's going back to the theatre!"
"She must have heard us," said Christine.
"We have to find her," said Raoul. "She could do herself a worse injury if she's not careful."
"She will be," sighed Christine tiredly. "You know that she will. She'll be fine." Raoul turned to her incredulously.
" 'She'll be fine'! How can you say that!" he cried. "Aren't you concerned at all for our daughter?"
Christine looked at him sadly. "Raoul, there's something I have to tell you…"
Aminta was mildly surprised to find that it was only nine-thirty or so when she reached the theatre again. The Masquerade was still going on, leading her to assume that no one knew what had transpired on the roof. The revelry was dying down, though, so no one noticed her slip in. She avoided the ballroom and went the long way 'round to the dressing-rooms. She found her mother's unlocked, but locked it from the inside when she had entered. That done, she went to the mirror and fumbled around the frame on the left side at eye level, where Erik told her the mechanism to open the mirror was. After Raoul had come down that first night, Erik fixed the mirror to make it impossible to open without direct pressure at exactly the right spot, which Aminta could not find. In frustration she slammed her fist against the frame…thus striking the hidden switch and opening the mirror. She stood looking down the dark corridor for a moment before snapping out of her trance and going through before the mirror closed.
"Who says anger doesn't solve anything?" she muttered, running her left hand along the wall. "It's a good thing I'm left-handed, or I'd be in a bit of a pickle with this damned sling." She didn't know why she felt the need to speak aloud to herself; possibly she wasn't as comfortable in the shadows as she liked to believe? No, no, impossible, she lived for the darkness. Then she hit upon it: she was scared. Really and truly scared. Not of the darkness, not of not knowing where she was, but scared that everything she could once believe in was about to end. And she didn't know why.
She came soon to the top of the stairway, looking all around again as she descended. Erik had told her to just follow the road to get back to him, so that's what she did. She shivered; it was freezing and she was without a cloak or coat. June or not, she was still five cellars below the Opera House and it was cold. Well, she liked the cold too. Tossing her loose hair back almost defiantly, she continued on her way down the caliginous path. Eventually she reached the 'harbor', if that's what you'd call it, but there was no boat, since Erik was in his lair. Aminta paused for a moment before splashing right into the dark water. It came midway up her thighs, but she didn't care. She wasn't really thinking. All she cared about was reaching Erik.
The water pulled at her legs, and she began to tire, but she strove on. She kept telling herself, 'I'm closer now…I'm almost there…Just a little farther…Nearly there…' until the black portcullis finally loomed into view and loud, hammering organ music pounded in her ears. She went up to the portcullis and saw through it Erik, seated at his organ, playing furiously. He still wore his Masquerade costume-the one that had so perfectly matched hers-and she wondered how long he had been there, and if he thought what had happened was his fault.
'No,' she thought. 'It's mine,' "Erik!" she shouted, but she couldn't even hear herself over his wicked music. She pounded on the portcullis with her fist, and shouted "Erik!" again, trying to get him to notice her. Her legs were beginning to go numb from the icy waters. She pounded on the portcullis again, hearing the chains rattling. "Erik! Erik, please let me in! Erik!" Finally his music decrescendoed enough for him to hear her. He raised his head first, as though wondering what he was hearing. She called to him one more time, and he finally turned to face her. His eyes widened in shock at seeing her there.
"Aminta!" he cried.
"Erik, please let me in," she said breathlessly.
"Oh! Yes, of course," said Erik, going to the lever that opened the gate and pulling it. Aminta ducked under the dripping gate as soon as there was enough room for her to slip under it. She sloshed over to the steps next to the boat and climbed up tiredly. Erik reached for her to help her and she hugged him tightly with her good arm. He seemed surprised by her actions, but he put his arms around her after a moment, holding her delicately as though she were made of some fragile material and he would shatter her if he held her too close. Aminta leaned into him a little, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms around her. She could smell his cologne; it was the same as her father's. Her mother's favourite. She wondered now if her mother liked it so much because it was the same as what Erik wore. Ah well, it didn't matter.
"Sorry to intrude," she mumbled, but she wasn't sure if Erik heard her.
"Aminta, I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. "It wasn't your fault. I don't even think it was Father's. It was an accident."
"Why did you shield me?" he asked. "You could have been killed."
"No one's ever made me feel like I can believe in myself before," she said. "No one's ever made me feel like I can be someone. No one's ever made me feel so beautiful. But you do. I suppose I was being a little selfish, really. I didn't want to lose what you let me believe. I didn't want to lose you." Erik just looked at her for a moment, then he smiled and held her a little tighter.
"You weren't being selfish," he said. "And even if you were, I thank you for it. You saved my life."
"You saved mine first," said Aminta. "Without you, I don't know what I would have done that night." They just stood a while in silence, still holding each other. Aminta liked this, this closeness. She hadn't been this close to him without having been hurt, and she liked it even if he was hurting her shoulder a little. She didn't care. Suddenly Erik gave a small sigh and stepped back from her, turning away. Aminta was surprised and a little hurt by his actions, and wondered if she had done something wrong. Just as she was about to ask, she heard him singing "Music of the Night" softly to himself. At least, she thought she did. He was singing so softly she couldn't tell if he really was singing. His voice trailed off at the end of the first verse and he just stood for a moment. Before she quite knew what she was doing, Aminta stepped forward tentatively.
"Slowly, gently, Night unfurls its splendor," she sang experimentally. "Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender..." Erik turned to her slowly.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
"I…I don't know," said Aminta. "I remember hearing Mother sing it a few times when I was very little, so young I shouldn't even remember. But I've always remembered. She stopped singing to me when I was about three, but I still remember. I asked her about it, but she pretended not to know what I was talking about. I don't know why."
"I do," said Erik somewhat tightly. Aminta wondered what was wrong as he went and sat on the steps, gesturing for her to join him. Puzzled, she did, sitting a step or two lower than him and leaning against his leg. "There is something you should know, something that Christine should have told you by now. Aminta-"