Erik pounded away on his organ piano. He had been nearly fourteen hours without morphine, and his body was trembling. After his earlier conversation with Nadir Erik had come home, promising himself that he would not dare touch that blissful needle.
Instead, he wanted to write a song for Christine, a song of love and devotion. Christine was his only escape, his true drug of choice. He needed her by his side, smiling, and loving. She would never consent to be by his side if he were high. Ayesha jumped up onto Erik's lap, and he petted her with trembling fingers.
A sweeping of pain wracked his spine, but he ingnored it. He felt the burning desire for morphine as his body howled with pain and desperation. Erik slammed his hand on the organ piano and frightened Ayesha away. He stood up and screamed, playing an angry, agonizing song of despair.
He seethed as he backed away, stumbling in his confusion over the bench. He lay on the floor panic-stricken, as his mind began to scream in agitation. He was rocking as Ayesha hissed at her fallen master. Erik tried to stand up, the desire for his drug stronger than his desire for Christine.
He screamed, "Stop It!" to no one, and then yelled, "Damnit!" He fumed as he tore about his room, throwing books at the walls and trying to ignore his body's passion for that sweet intoxication.
Soon he was breathing heavy and it felt as if a boulder were resting upon his heart. He raced to his living room and pulled at the secret cubby that hid his most precious desire. He pulled out the oblong box and stared at it. It was almost as if he could see Christine within the small crevices of the wood.
Her soft brown hair whirled around Erik as he breathed in her tatilizing scent. His mind was hallucinating and he threw the box with it's contents across the floor. Suddenly he screamed and lunged for the spilled powder. He swept it up into the box and sniffed it.
"I'm not using it. I'm remembering it." He told Ayesha as she watched him.
He placed his finger in the soft white powder and swirled it across the box. His body cried out for the drug, and he put the box down, rocking on his knees. He began to cry, and then he grew furious.
He grabbed the needle where it had fallen and began to unscrew it. He quickly filled it with much more morphine than he normally used, and then stared at the needle. "Christine" He murmured. He needed her, wanted her, desired her; but his passion for this loathsome drug overpowered his senses.
He rocked as he looked at Ayesha. "Quit staring at me!" He yelled. The cat ran away and Erik watched. "Even the damn cat hates me for my drug use." He lamented. Suddenly he felt another spasm hit his spine, and he doubled over in pain. He quickly rolled up his sleeve and pressed down on a vein. Without thinking he jammed the cold needle into his arm, releasing the spring that shot the warm, gratifying drug into his veins.
He sighed as he rocked back on his knees, letting the delicate and caressing high enter him and relax him. He began to hum as the room swirled around him, lost within a hallucinative embrace. Erik felt himself slipping away ,and he looked at the empty needle.
Suddenly he shouted and threw the needle at the wall, stumbling in confusion to his couch. He buried his hands in his face as the morphine caressed him. He wanted more than a drugs caress, he wanted a woman.
He wanted Christine. He needed to feel her warm hands against his shoulders, her soft voice against his mind. He needed to know her, to see her, to, love her. "What have I done. What have I.." He cried into his hands as his morphine kick evened out.
He stood up and looked around his trashed apartment. Without a moment's glance he grabbed his cloak and hat and pulled Ayesha from her perch on the chair.
"I need Nadir." He told her as he began to steer the boat.