Until she knew…then she thought I was a monster…
Helene looked down at Erik. Her skirt was now quite wet with his tears and the left side of his face remained hidden in the black silk. She saw only his mask.
She knew that Christine Daae must have seen him without it before that night of the fire and that his distorted features had terrified the young woman.
"Poor Erik," she whispered, gently stroking the smooth white leather.
He looked up at her then as if he could not get used to hearing his name. She laid her hand on his damp cheek.
"Erik, I know why you wear the mask. I saw your face last night."
He caught her wrists and held her hands still against him.
"And you didn't scream? You didn't try to run away?
"I'm still here with you, Erik. I wouldn't have run, even if I could."
He did not let go of her wrists as she carefully pulled the mask from his face. She let it fall to the floor and his wig joined it.
"How did this happen," she said, touching his temple.
"I don't know," he said, closing his eyes as her fingers traced down his cheek, "I was born this way. My own mother would not even look at me without a mask."
She felt her heart tighten with anger. How could any woman be so cruel…his mother…Christine Daae…
She wanted to curse them both, the way she'd heard Sicilian women cursing.
Instead, she leaned closer to him and kissed him, tasting the salt of his tears mingling with the sweet hints of plum juice.
He let go of her wrists, tangling his hands into her hair as he responded to her hungrily.
"No woman has ever kissed me willingly," he whispered, breaking away from her at last. As he spoke, he traced to contour of her lips with one finger.
Then he freed himself from her arms and rose.
There was a curious music box on a pedestal in the corner of the chamber. He laid one hand on the velvet-robed figure of a monkey.
"Forgive me," he said.
He stooped to pick up his mask from the floor and pressed it back onto his face.
"Forgive me," he repeated as he walked away.
He strode down the steps to the organ, seeming to forget that she was still there…sitting on the edge of the swan bed, her head bowed and her hands grasping the velvet coverlet.