Demons of the Past
Ch. 6 What new surprises lie in store?
Author's note: For the first time, I have actually planned out my chapters. Normally they just pop out and I write it down, but this time I actually have things planned rather nicely. You may hate me at the end of the chapter, but please, don't throw anything until the next chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing!
Disclaimer: The nice police officer standing at my shoulder would like me to remind you that I do not in fact own the Phantom of the Opera, regardless of previous statements…
P.S.: Juliana Olstad: thanks for answering my questions! I hope to hear from you again.
And now, on with the story…
Erik awoke the following night. He absentmindedly touched Christine's side of the bed, but found it empty. He started to get out of bed, but was hammered suddenly by the presence of a massive headache. He cradled his aching head in his hands, desperately trying to relieve the pressure in his mind. The door opened a crack, revealing a dim light that was too much for Erik to take. He closed his eyes sharply, and rolled back into bed, his hands bringing the covers up to rest below his chin. Erik heard the door shut, and someone with soft footsteps approached the bed.
"Not now, Christine…I feel as though bass drums are practicing in my head…" Erik managed to murmur from underneath a pillow. Even the softness of his own voice was too much for him to bear. He groaned and covered his ears with the pillow.
"Christine is asleep in the parlor room, Erik. I have taken the liberty of bringing you your own concoction to soothe a hangover. But first, I would love to hear an apology for your behavior last night…" Madam Giry's voice was firm, but held a touch of humor. Erik groaned again.
"Please, Marie…just give me the tonic…I'll go on bended knee to beg your forgiveness…anything."
"No no, my dear, you must beg forgiveness now!"
Erik lost his temper. "Fine! Damn it, Marie, I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I embarrassed you! I'm sorry I shoved you out of the way! Now, give me the damn tonic!" Erik fell silent for a moment, as his body slowly registered that he had just yelled at the top of his lungs. His head exploded, and he fell back into the bed, feeling as if the pain would consume him. "Uhhh, my head…"
Madam Giry laughed, a sound that grated Erik's ears. "That was punishment enough, I think. Here, son, take this."
Erik took the small bottle gratefully, and downed the liquid in one gulp. He immediately choked a bit, coughing harshly. "I always forget how bitter this is…I'm always in a rush to take it…"
The effect of the medicine was instantaneous. Erik felt the pressure slowly dissipate, and he found that he could look into Marie's face without seeing double.
"Thank you, Marie. Now, where did you say Christine was?"
"She's asleep in the parlor room. She has been up most of the day; I don't rightly blame her. You were snoring so loud it seemed as if you were trying to wake the dead!" Madam Giry laughed again. Erik scowled.
"I do not snore, Marie."
Madam Giry just laughed again, and Erik got out of bed. He was still shirtless, and a quick glance to Marie revealed that she too had noticed. She blushed, a deep shade of magenta.
"I'll give you some peace so you can change your clothes and such." Madam Giry headed for the door.
"Well, thank you ever so much for the courtesy of privacy, Marie." Erik's sarcastic tone bit at Madam Giry, but she merely smiled.
"Glad you're feeling better, Erik."
Erik found his way down the stairs ten minutes later. He headed first for the parlor room, ignoring the biting hunger that was reminding him that he had had nothing to eat for a day. He stopped in the doorway, and saw Christine sprawled on the couch, still fully clothed, and sound asleep. Erik picked her up gentle and carried her upstairs. Christine stirred a little in his embrace. Erik made it to the room, and set Christine carefully on the bed. He started to undo her corset when her hand came up suddenly and slapped his hand away. Erik looked at her in surprise.
"Sorry, Erik…I thought I was dreaming, floating through the clouds…then I felt someone trying to take off my clothes…" Christine's eyes were still heavy with sleep. Erik quickly undid the rest of her cumbersome clothing, and fetched a nightgown from the dresser. Erik tucked her in tightly, noticing that Christine had already drifted back to sleep. Erik walked out of the room swiftly, and closed the door behind him.
Erik went straight to the kitchen, trying to find something to fill the ravenous feeling that was consuming him. He found the leftovers from their previous dinner, and he started to arrange that into a meal when he heard footfalls directly behind him. Erik turned sharply, and pinned whoever it was against a kitchen cabinet. He released his hold almost as quickly when he saw the fear in young Meg's eyes. Erik walked back over to his plate, as though the incident hadn't happened.
"What can I do for you, Meg?" Erik addressed her formally. He took his plate from the kitchen and motioned her to follow him to his music room. He sat at his desk and moved all the papers to one side, putting his plate in the middle. He indicated which seat Meg should take, and she complied.
"I hope you don't mind my eating while we talk…" Erik said, indicating his own plate of food.
"Oh no, I know that you must be hungry…and I will keep this brief, for I know you don't like to be disturbed." Meg answered, timidly at first, but stronger as she progressed through her thoughts. She still felt uncomfortable and uneasy around this man, even though she knew she had nothing to fear. Erik shrugged.
"You are not a disturbance, my dear. Your mother in a tantrum: that's a disturbance." Erik earned a small laugh from Meg. She glanced up at him, sobering.
"I need to speak to you about Christine. I don't think she is feeling quite well." At this remark, Erik rose from his seat, forgetting his hunger and the food on the desk.
"What do you mean? Is she sick? How do you know? Is she all right?" Erik asked these questions in rapid succession, but Meg merely held up her hand.
"I do not know so much as that, Monsieur. I just know my best friend, and I find that she is acting odd. She doesn't seem to be acting like herself. Haven't you noticed, Erik?"
Erik raked his hands through his black hair, a habit picked up when he was nervous or agitated. "No, I mean, she's been acting perfectly normal to me…do you think she is hiding something from me? Something terrible?" Erik said this in such a melodramatic way that Meg laughed. Erik glared at her, a piercing gaze that landed straight into her heart. She quickly stopped.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious, Erik. I don't think she's hiding anything on purpose, especially from you. I just wanted to offer you my observations. Perhaps you should just keep an eye on her." Meg sighed in relief as Erik's gaze left hers. Erik nodded.
Erik returned to his seat at his desk, and resumed picking at his food. "Thank you, Meg. I appreciate you coming to me with your concerns."
"Anytime, Monsieur. No one cares for Christine more than you do…oh, and by the way, the mail came today. It's that bundle in the corner."
Erik gave Meg a rare smile as she turned to leave. "Pleasant dreams, young one…"
Erik finished the rest of his meal in solitude, pondering what Meg had said. Perhaps Christine was just tired? That could be the culprit behind her symptoms. If Christine had not been able to sleep because of his nightmares, then she would have of course tried to hide it from him…he really needed to speak with Christine. If she was tired and feeling unwell, then she should be able to tell her husband about it.
Erik reached for the bundle of mail. Several letters fell out; some were from wealthy gentleman requesting his presence at some function or another; news had apparently spread that Erik was the Opera Populaire's newest patron. However, the letter that grabbed his attention was encased in familiar packaging, and familiar writing was on the front. It was from Stefan Javere, and he opened it immediately. He read it, slowly and carefully, before throwing it down in disgust. A patron's day? What the Hell was a patron's day? The letter indicated that Erik's presence was needed the day after tomorrow at the Opera Populaire. Stefan wanted to introduce Erik to the other patron, and introduce him to the rest of the employees of the Opera House. This was just the thing that he had been trying to avoid. He had no time to send a letter of apology, filled with excuses as to why he would be unable to attend; and Erik was afraid that if he did not attend, then Stefan would not want him as patron. He was stuck between the proverbial 'rock and a hard place'. Erik also realized that he had a sinking suspicion who the other patron would be…his mind blurred in anger and hatred as he said one name out loud:
"De Chagny!"
The day of Erik's trip to Paris arrived bright and cheerful, and much sooner than Erik would have liked. Christine had helped him dress, carefully choosing an outfit that would not bring back the powerful memories of the Phantom. This was no easy task, considering that the majority of Erik's clothing was black and he had to wear a mask. They settled on a black mask similar to his white one, and dressed him simply in his finest clothes. Unbeknownst to Christine, Erik slipped a knife in his jacket, in easy reach should the need arise. He did not want to worry her unnecessarily, and so he did not mention it. Christine took a few steps back, to admire her husband.
"Erik, you look simply amazing! I feel apprehensive letting you go by yourself, with all those ballet girls that will swoon at the sight of you…" Erik grasped her hand firmly.
"Then come with me! I need you there, Christine. I don't know if I can do this alone…"
"Erik, you know that it wouldn't be a good idea. You have to appear as unlike the Phantom as you possible can, and if you show up with me on your arm without the people of the Opera House knowing you…they all know my weakness for the Phantom." Christine smiled mischievously, and Erik kissed her softly. "You'll be fine, my love. Just go, and remember that you are a man, and no ghost. I will be here when you get back." Erik nodded in defeat. Christine brightened.
"Oh Erik, will you bring me a surprise from Paris? I would love one so…" Erik grinned and nodded.
"Of course, my Angel…it would be a pleasure to pick out a treasure for you."
Christine and Erik walked to the door. Erik was going to ride on horseback. He reached for his cape, when Christine stopped him. "Wear your coat."
Erik grimaced, and reached for the long jacket that he had. It had a hood, but it fit close to his body, reaching to about his mid-knee. Christine smiled.
"You make me so proud, Erik. I love you, and be safe."
Erik kissed her fervently. "I love you too. I will not be gone long." Erik opened the door to their home, and was gone. Christine watched him through the door as Erik raced the horse toward the main road. This was the beginning, she realized. She turned back into the house, a small smile playing on her lips.
Erik arrived in Paris earlier than he had anticipated. He went straight to the Opera House, and left his horse in the care of the stable hands. Once released of his beast, Erik stood a moment, contemplating his next move. His steps took him automatically to the entrance of a secret passage that led to the catacombs of the Opera Populaire. He stopped himself just before he reached to open the entrance. I am here on legitimate business! I am not the Phantom! Erik told himself this firmly and bravely walked through the stables and into the main part of the Opera House. He walked swiftly, and reached his destination quickly. Erik knocked politely on Stefan's door.
"Come in!"
Erik entered and, out of habit, found himself standing closely in the doorway's shadow. Stefan looked up from his papers, and his face broke into a wide grin.
"Erik! You're early…I hope that you're well? How is your wife?" Erik sat in the seat across from Stefan. He crossed his hands over his chest.
"I hope that it does not bother you that I am early, but I find tardiness unacceptable, therefore I often find myself early for my various engagements. I am as well as can be expected with your impromptu letter; why did I not get more warning about this appointment, Stefan?"
Stefan surveyed Erik briefly. "Because you wouldn't have come, Erik. You made that clear when we spoke of you attending the galas. I need you here, to support me. That is what a patron does. Unless, of course, you are having second thoughts of your agreement to become my patron?"
Erik uncrossed his hands to stare at them. "I want to be a patron, Stefan, I truly do. But I fear that I am not always…accepted when it comes to a social environment. I find myself often times offending people by merely standing next to them. I don't want to make this difficult on you, Stefan."
Stefan stared at Erik in confusion. "Why would there be any kind of problem? You are my patron; it was my decision, not the employees that work under me! You have nothing to worry about, my friend."
There was another knock on the door. "Ah, this must be our other patron!" Stefan said excitedly. "Come in, come in!"
The door opened, and just as Erik had assumed, in walked Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Stefan rose from his seat, and looked pointedly at Erik. Erik rose as well, though hesitantly. The Vicomte went immediately toward Stefan and offered his hand.
"It is good to see you, Monsieur Javere. I hope all things go well?" The Vicomte's voice had the touch of nobility pride that Erik hated so much.
"Everything is as well as can be expected, dear Vicomte." Stefan indicated Erik.
"Vicomte, I am pleased to present our new patron, Monsieur Erik Massenet. Erik, this is Vicomte Raoul de Chagny."
Now with the introductions made, they were forced to acknowledge one another for the first time. There was a great pause; it seemed that they were waiting to see which one would speak first. Finally, the Vicomte sighed outwardly, and extended his hand.
"Pleasure to see you again, Monsieur." Erik could have killed the boy where he stood. They were not supposed to have known each other before now! With a shooting look from Erik, the Vicomte realized his error too late. Erik accepted his hand, and tried to crush the fop's fingers in a strong handshake. The boy held his own. They stood there a moment, still in a handshake, trying to determine who would be the lesser man and let go first. After several long moments, and with an anxious glance from Stefan, Erik conceded. The Vicomte stood back with a little bit of a smug look on his features, and Erik suppressed the urge to physically throw himself on to the unsuspecting boy and kill him with his bare hands.
Stefan shook his head, and indicated for the Vicomte to take a seat next to Erik. The boy did not even so much as glance at Erik. Erik, on the other hand, watched him closely, but not obviously. The Vicomte sat in the chair, but sat straight in his seat, in contrast to Erik, who was comfortably slouching.
"Do you two know each? I was under the impression that you had never met before…" Stefan trailed off with an inquisitive look on his face. The Vicomte answered with a laugh.
"Monsieur Massenet and I went through a series of classes with the sword master Gailer. I am sure you have heard of him?" When Stefan nodded, the Vicomte continued. "Erik and I were each other's rivals in the sword fighting lessons that we received. Although, I must say, the years have done wonders to you, my friend. You seem to have grown a little 'round the middle. I barely recognized you." The Vicomte placed that barely veiled jab to Erik, and Erik responded accordingly.
"Well, I have been married since the last time you saw me, Raoul. I guess my wife has been spoiling me with her wonderful cooking." At this, Erik was pleased to see Raoul's face turn an interesting shade of red. Stefan, sensing an argument, cut in.
"Please, gentleman. To business?"
Erik and Raoul glared at one another, but turned and allowed Stefan to speak. Stefan spoke of the various tasks that still needed to be performed around the Opera House. He turned to Erik.
"La Rose et la Nuit will be ready to perform in roughly three months time; I have scheduled the opening night to incorporate the necessary changes that still need to be made. But rest assured, all of Paris will hear you're wonderful composition, Erik."
Raoul had a look of disbelief on his face that he quickly turned into a smile. "You wrote the opera, Erik? Well, Monsieur Javere, let me tell you first hand, be prepared as all of the Opera House is brought down around the performers' head…because of the thunderous applause from the audience, of course."
Erik closed his eyes for a moment to restrain his wandering hands. His fingers had never itched for flesh quite like they did for the papered Vicomte's. Raoul seem to realize that he had crossed a line when Erik didn't retort, and he quickly rose to his feet.
"Perhaps, Stefan, it is time to make introductions to the staff of the Opera House?"
Oh wonderful idea, Erik thought sardonically. He rose as well, and followed the two men out the door. Raoul hung back a bit to walk alongside Erik.
"You might want to stay away from me, kid, I don't think I can stop myself from killing you…" Erik said in a low voice filled with hatred.
"You wouldn't dare. Your threats mean nothing to me, Phantom." At this, Erik looked quickly ahead. Stefan was preoccupied with a dancer at the moment. Erik flung the Vicomte against the wall as hard as he could.
"Never call me that! I have risked everything! This is mine only chance!" Erik hissed out to Raoul. Raoul looked at him coolly.
"I care nothing for you…I don't care if the whole company discovers who you used to be."
Erik sighed. He released the Vicomte, who stood shaking the dust from his shoulders.
"I care nothing for you either, Vicomte…but I do this only for Christine. You would do well to remember that." Erik turned his back on Raoul, exposing himself to him knowingly. Raoul could just reach into his jacket, pull out his small knife, and end it all, right now…but he didn't. He couldn't. He could not hurt Christine like that. Raoul would not soil himself in the blood of the Phantom, his mortal enemy. He caught up with Erik, and walked alongside him. Erik looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Raoul nodded up at him. They had an accord. An uneasy truce, one might say. Stefan looked up from the dancing girl.
"Gentleman, this way." Stefan continued to lead them to the stage. Once there, Erik discovered what looked like the entire company gathered together. He took a step backwards. What was he doing? He couldn't do this…He heard Stefan introduce Raoul, and he heard the thunderous approval of those gathered. It all sounded far away…all he could concentrate on was keeping his feet steady. He could not run away, even though that is what he so desperately wanted. He saw Raoul and Stefan turn to face him, and Stefan said his name as he raised his hand to him: Monsieur Erik Massenet. Erik stood stock still, still partially in the shadows. There was a polite round of applause, but mainly there were a lot of curious looks. The crowd gathered could not see Erik very well, and Erik didn't want to remove himself from the shadows. Erik was on the verge of panic, when a lone figure broke from the crowd to come toward him.
Christine was working diligently in her rose garden. The roses were her pride and joy, and she loved the feel of the warm spring sun pressed against her back. Nothing gave her a better feeling than to be here in her garden, singing softly to herself as she worked. Christine stood, her hand going to the small of her back. She had been weeding for the better part of the morning, and her back was beginning to ache with her efforts. Her stomach growled suddenly in the silence, reminding her that it was well past lunch time. She headed to the kitchen to make her a quick snack. Christine brought her food to her garden, and sat on the small bench that Erik had made for her. As she ate, she naturally thought of her husband. Erik had been so sheltered from the world; and now he found himself shoved head first into it. Christine did not think that she could truly understand what her husband was going through; all she could do was provide the support that he needed.
Christine rose from her bench and took the plate back toward the kitchen. On the way back to the garden, she got another dizzy spell. She sat quickly in a chair that was in the hallway leading to the backdoor. Christine fanned herself with her hand, and willed the spell to pass. She finally felt better, but like all the previous attacks she was left feeling weak and vulnerable. Christine was starting to become a little concerned…she had been dizzy an awful lot this week, and she didn't seem to be able to keep an appetite. And when she did eat, she found herself throwing up immediately afterwards. Come to think of it, these weren't her only symptoms. She felt sensitive in certain areas of her body, especially her breasts…Christine eyes widened in recognition. She hadn't had her monthly cycle in a while…she must be pregnant!
A feeling of such joy past over her being that she felt as if she would explode with happiness. A child…hers and Erik's child…together, in love, they had made a child.
Christine closed her eyes, willing herself to feel some other sign that would indicate that she was truly expecting. Could she sense another life in her? Could she sense movements of the tiny infant that she protected? The idea thrilled her to the core. She had always considered herself an empathetic person. And Erik, he sometimes could tell exactly what she was feeling. Erik. Suddenly Christine's wonderful happiness darkened a bit. What would he say? Would he be happy?
Christine walked to the garden, prepared to finish her weeding when she felt violently ill. She purged herself of the little food that she ate. Her body still purged, even when there was nothing left in her small stomach. Finally her heart couldn't take it anymore. She fainted, alone, amongst her roses…
Meg Giry broke away from her fellow Opera performers. She could feel Erik's eyes on hers, full of wonder and relief. She smiled reassuringly, and offered him her hand.
"Monsieur Massenet, it is an honor to meet the composer of the great Opera we are performing. I am Meg Giry, one of the ballerinas here at the Opera House," Meg said, loudly and to the rest of the crowd as well as Erik. They gasped and whispered amongst themselves at this announcement. Erik smiled, only to Meg, and mouthed thank you. He accepted her hand, and Meg slightly pulled him out of the shadows. His eyes went wide, but he recovered and kissed Meg's hand.
"It is my honor to be able to serve this wonderful Opera House. Thank you for introducing yourself, Mademoiselle." Erik's voice held no tone that would indicate that he did not feel perfectly comfortable with the situation he found himself in. He was being stared at by the people that would put on his opera, and he was anxiously waiting the time when he could disappear in the shadows once more.
A chorus girl pushed her way to the front. "So it is true Sir? You are the man that composed this Opera?"
Erik looked directly at the young girl. "Yes, Mademoiselle, I am."
Everyone started talking at once. Some of the members of the crowd came forward to Erik, expressing how much they liked performing his work. A few went so far as to introduce themselves personally. There were a few, of course, that stood back and wondered out loud why their wealthy patron hid his face behind a mask…Erik was a bit relieved when he looked around at the faces surrounding him; there were many faces that Erik had never seen before. It seemed as if many of the old employees of the Opera House had left. This was only good news for Erik…perhaps many of the people here had never looked upon the face of the Opera Ghost. Erik did not like the feel of being the center of attention, and he sent a veiled pained look to Stefan, who took the hint.
"Ladies and Gentleman, Monsieur Vicomte and Monsieur Massenet are busy men. Please, you will meet them again shortly." With that having been said, the crowd began to disperse, and Erik and Raoul followed Stefan back to his office.
"Well, my friends, I would say that this was a wonderful success! Now, down to business, gentleman."
Erik was relieved. He had been through one of the hardest experiences of his life and had come out unscathed. He leaned in closer to hear Stefan more clearly. He heard Raoul say that he would return tomorrow to view the new additions to the Opera House. Erik was about to agree to come as well when he got the distinct feeling of happiness. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was so intense; it was so pure…where was it coming from? As suddenly as Erik had felt that feeling, another one took its place…Christine! There was something horribly wrong! Erik jumped from his seat, not bothering to acknowledge the bewildered looks on both Raoul's and Stefan's face.
"Oh, I am terribly sorry, Stefan, but I just realized that I am late for a previous engagement. Can I see you sometime tomorrow? I'm sorry but I must leave at once!" Erik rushed out of the room, headed for the stables, not bothering to hear a reply from Stefan. He had just saddled his horse when he heard his name being yelled.
"Erik! Stop!"
It was that damn Vicomte! Erik didn't have time. Something in his mind told him that he needed to get to Christine, as fast as he could. He reared his horse, and turned to leave the stable. The Vicomte was standing in his way.
"Move, damn you, there's no time! Leave me!"
"Erik, what's wrong? I know there is something…is it Christine? Tell me!"
Erik tried to move around Raoul, but he darted in the way. "I warn you once more before I run you over with this beast! Move!"
"Tell me, or I will go with you!"
Erik turned the head of his horse sharply, setting his piercing gaze straight into Raoul's. "I don't know what is wrong! I can't explain it. I just need to get to Christine, and I need to get to her now! Let me pass!"
Raoul paled at the pleading in Erik's voice. He stood aside, letting Erik gallop away. He could not explain why he didn't follow him, but the situation seemed too odd for a rash decision on his account. Raoul could only pray that Christine was all right…
Erik rode as fast as he could home. He didn't worry about exhausting his horse, he didn't worry about the fact that rain had begun to fall on his back; his thoughts centered on Christine. When the house finally came into view, he jumped from the horse's back and ran inside the house, screaming Christine's name, but she was nowhere to be found. Erik knew of only one more place to look: the garden. He ran back into the rain, and finally saw his beautifully Angel, lying in the garden, surrounded by rain and roses. He approached her, restraining himself from simply scooping her in his arms. Erik had to make sure that she was safe to move. There was a sour odor in the air that Erik recognized as vomit. He turned Christine gently to her side, and felt her body for injuries. She stirred from her unconsciousness, and she stared up at Erik with large, frightened eyes. "Erik…What's going on?"
Erik knew that she was safe to move. He picked her up gently; the rain was still beating down on them, soaking them to the bone. Erik entered the house and built a fire in the parlor room, setting Christine on to the couch. He fetched warm towels and blankets for her, and she gratefully toweled herself dry. Erik watched her carefully for any indication that she might become ill again, but she seemed fine. Erik found her some dry clothes and helped her change into them. Christine leaned back into the couch, and Erik spoke for the first time.
"What is it, my dear? Meg noticed earlier that you were acting strange…Are you ill? Should I go and get a doctor?" Erik kneeled beside Christine on the couch. "Please, tell me that you're all right…"
Christine smiled suddenly. Erik looked at her in confusion, and then remembered the warm feeling of her happiness. "Why are you so happy, Christine? I just found you in the garden, in the rain, unconscious…"
Christine grabbed Erik's hand and gently placed it upon her abdomen. "My Angel, we are going to have a baby…" Christine watched as Erik's face went through a million emotions. He just stared; he stared at his hand, he stared at her face…and then Christine saw fear in his eyes, and Erik jerked his hand away.
"No…this is not true…how can this happen?"
Christine smiled to reassure him. "How do you think?…I mean, we are married and all…just think of it, Erik…aren't you happy?"
"Happy! I'm supposed to be happy when I found you collapsed in the rain? I'm supposed to be happy when you feel sick all the time, and try to hide it from me? I did this to you! I am the one causing you this pain…"
"Erik, you're not causing this…my body has to change to accommodate the baby, Erik…that's why I feel sick. It will pass; and then we will have a baby, made with love, and made with a little piece of both of us living inside."
Erik looked at Christine in horror. "And what if you die? What if you have our child, and leave me? I cannot accept that, Christine. Never. And what if the child resembles me? What if the child has my deformity…oh Christine. This I cannot accept."
Christine looked at him, eyes bright with new found anger. "So you cannot accept this baby? It grows inside of me, Erik. It is a part of me! And I will be a mother, and you a father! You don't have a choice. You have to accept this."
"No I don't!" Erik roared suddenly, causing Christine to flinch. "I can't lose you…I can't." Erik turned from Christine, turned away from her angry eyes. He ran from the room and to the front door.
"Erik! Don't leave me! Please, don't leave!"
Those were the last cries that Erik heard as he slipped gratefully into the rain and the night…
Thank you to my brand new beta reader Lin! (pretend there is a whole crowd of people behind me, cheering) You have taken on an arduous task, my friend…