Blah. That first chapter sucked eggs. I promise this one will be better! Oh, btw, pardon my american vernacular. I know it sounds weird with French characters. I just stink at rich language. Okay, on with the show!
Ch. 2: A Formidable Foe
Erik returned to his secret flat in a state of nervous distress. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple, blood punding loudly in his ears. The man could not understand for the life of him why somebody would want to frame him for murder, besides the fact that he killed three people last year and nearly every snob with money in Paris couldn't wait to nail his pelt to the side of the Lourve.
The makeshift apartment looked like that of a college boy, with the sheets of his cot thrown to the floor and bits of food strewn all over the ground. With his real home under the cellars under eagle's eye from the police, he was forced into this loft which hung forgotten beneath the attics.Only Madame Giry, Christine, and Raoul knew where this place was. It was a bit more than an overly large squirrel's nest in the wall, as far as any of them were concerned.
Erik slumped over a small wooden table, his chin landing in a splotch of bannana. Groaning loudly he flipped the table over, the noise echoing in the spires. His rage had gotten the better of him. That had not happened in months. He threw his mask to the cot, wanting to air out his scars. Contrary to belief, he did not love wearing that cursed thing. It chafed and rubbed him raw to the point of bloodshed. The whole mask deal was signature by mistake.
The mystery clouded his mind like a haze of frustration. The same questions chased each other around his mind, never coming up with legimate answers. A soft knock rapped gently at the wooden door. Erik hastened to hide his gruesome defects with a pair of undergarments. Madame Giry entered, looking vaugely amused at the sight of Erik with a pair of underwear pressed firmly to his face. " Hello, Cecile." his friend kicked a pile of dirty clothing from a stool, propping herself smartly atop it. She brandished his mask that she had picked up.
"Here. Get those ridiculous things off your face!" Giry threw him the" object. He caught it and jammed it onto his face. Trying tremendously to regain his shred of dignity, he cleared his throat. " So, what business brings you to my, erm, house?" Erik asked, glancing around at his surroundings. Cecile glared at him. He withered under her firey gaze. For such a small woman, she was almost frightening.
" What the hell happened at the Gala?" Giry screeched like a peacock. " I-I, I suppose-" Erik was cut off by the ranting woman. " Did you kill Fonasi-?" He put his hand over her mouth. The woman looked ready to explode. " No, I will humbly admit that I did not kill Pierre. Christine and I saw the real murderer kill him." He removed his hand, and she gasped for breath. " You did not kill him?" she echoed stupidly. It was one of those rare moments when she was not sternly self composed. He shook his head. Madame Giry looked confused. " We found your rose in the lasso. Explain that!"
Sighing deeply, he explained the theory that He, Christine, and Raoul cooked up. " and we believe that somebody is trying to frame me." Madame Giry puzzled over this. " I would not usually believe you of all people," She muttered, " But I will believe Christine." Erik shot her his worst look.
" Well, I suppose you should adopt a new signature flower, then." The elderly woman joked. Erik gave a weak chuckle. " Yes, I suppose, but daisies don't seem to be the symbol of mystery and horror that I'm searching for."
" Are you alright, Christine? Are you ill?" Raoul, a mother in a husband's body, fussed over the visibly worried Christine. A ghostly pallor had consumed her peaches and cream glow and dark circles had made a defined appearance. The pair was walking to Christine's dormitory, pushing through the hushed crowd. Everybody was mourning silently for Fonasille, the air nearly salty with tears. The man had been very well-liked.
Christine felt a pang of relief ease her concern. The old place soothed her, like a security blanket for an infant. Raoul had agreed to let her live in the opera house after Erik had announced his indifference to their marriage. He gave her a tight hug and planted a small kiss on her lips. She rested her head on his breast. Raoul stroked her hair, slowing his pace. When they reched the door to the dormitory, she felt tears sting his eyes. " Do you want me to stay with you?" Raoul's forget-me-not eyes were filled with concern and boyish love. Christine shook her head, releasing herself from his embrace. " I will send for you tomorrow. Goodnight, my darling." Raoul kissed her hands and disappeared into the throng. The other choruss girls were pretending to sleep, while they were really fearing for their lives. How could anybody sleep knowing that there was a murderer abroad?
With nightmares torturing her thoughts, Christine let the tears come as sleep overtook her. Although she was merely his friend, she feared for Erik's well-being.