A/N: A big, huge, gigantic 'thank you' goes out to Cathedral of Chaos, you have no idea how much that helped me!
Had I wanted to say something? What was I mentioning? My words dissipated into thin air as I sat there, Erik lurking behind me. Standing close, so close. My inner conscience was scolding me, screaming at me to recoil from His touch, to cease this assault. I knew very well how dangerous Erik was, in more ways than one. Yes, He was a murderer, and yes, He did physically hurt me. So, in that sense, He was a treacherous man. Yet, in a completely different way, the danger was almost alluring. Sinister. Seductive. He mixed anger and passion so well, fusing them together in such an inimitable way. It enthralled me, He fascinated me.
Through my experiences, I had come to know and understand many different types of men. There was the rich playboy, bored with the prospect of coming home to his rigid wife every night The lonely heir of royalty, trying to escape a lackluster arranged marriage, the womanizers who made it their sole purpose in life to sleep with as many girls as possible. Every man I had ever known could fit into a specific category, one very predictable form. Erik was in a category all His own.
I did my best to ignore the bothersome voice in my head. When Erik's gloved hands made their way from my neck to the tendrils that hung slack from my loose bun, the voice all but disappeared. He twirled them around His fingers, and brought His face down to the crook of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed when He took a lengthy breath, inhaling the scent of my hair. I could feel the hot, sticky air expel from His mouth onto the heated skin behind my ears. Every hair on my body stood on edge, held hostage by the close proximity Erik enforced on me. Instinctually, I turned my head to meet His. My cheek landed on something cold and tough.
I flinched at the contact. I was expecting to feel warmth beneath my skin, not the cool, porcelain surface of the mask. I was not repulsed by it, but the shock of the unexpected arising disconcerted me, if only for a second. As soon as Erik felt my reaction, He snapped back up, throwing His shoulders back into a dignified stance.
In my mind, during those few fleeting, but precious moments, I wondered if any of it really mattered. The abuse, the imprisonment, the torture, none of it seemed relevant. I came to the realization that when I was with Erik, nothing mattered. Nothing but Him. He assumed all control, complete dominance over me. It frightened me, but at the same time, I could not resist it.
I nervously glanced up at Erik, not sure of what type of reaction to expect. He seemed so aloof, so detached, as if that instant of intimacy we just shared failed to exist.
"You were saying, mademoiselle?"
"I…I just wanted to say I was sorry. For your mask."
A menacing eyebrow arched high into His forehead. I could literally see the anger coursing through Him as His nostrils flared with an irate breath.
"I mean, I am sorry for removing your mask without your permission," I stammered, "It won't happen again," I added, desperately trying to redeem myself.
"No. It will not."
I stood slowly, not wanting to alarm Erik, who was already on edge. He watched me as I gathered the empty glasses from the table, looked around for any place to wash them, and with a shrug set them back down.
"Do you perhaps have a sink to clean these in?"
"Just leave them."
With a nod, I gently moved the two wineglasses to the side, arranging them so that they stood near the corner of the table top. With no further distractions to divert my attention, I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, completely aware of Erik's intent gaze. I thought it was unavoidable, albeit necessary to discuss our situation. Erik's personality seemed to border slightly irritated today, a dramatic improvement from His usual murderous rage. I figured now was as good an opportunity as ever to talk.
"Erik, do you think we may speak for a moment?" I asked, glancing over at Him with my tentative eyes.
"What is it that you wanted to discuss?" He inquired with a sigh, and folded His arms across His chest.
"This," I gestured my hand around His home, "I mean surely, you do not wish to keep me down here forever."
"And why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
"Erik, people will look for me. Sooner or later, Charlotte or M. Giry will take notice of my disappearance and search for me." I tried to keep the irritation in my voice to a minimum.
"And their search will come up empty," He sneered, "I don't know if you had noticed or not, but this location is very difficult to navigate."
I didn't understand why He was being so stubborn. Clearly, He had not thought this little plan of His through. There were faults, holes in the arrangement. If He truly detested me, if He wanted nothing more of me than to end the burden of the secret that I carried, why did He not just kill me? Surely He had means, an extreme motive, and ample opportunity. Why had He spared me thus far?
"So, you plan to keep me as a prisoner here. Do you plan to watch over me every second of the day, do you plan to dictate my every action? When I am to eat, when I am to sleep, what I will wear for the day? Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life, Erik?" I screamed, my temper was becoming harder to control with every passing encounter He and I shared. Perhaps, this trait of His was rubbing off on me.
He advanced, shoulders squared with fortitude. I, however, did not cower or retract from Him. I stood, the small of my back painfully pressed into the edge of the table, my eyes focused on His. My hands gripped the rim, my fingernails dug into the solid wood. As much as I feared Him, I knew ultimately that I could not cry and throw a tantrum every time I did not get my way. I had to stand up for myself, I had to fight back. I would more likely die of asphyxiation from the constant torrent of tears before I got what I wanted. And what I wanted was a way out. A way from this morose lair, a way from Him.
"I will do whatever it is that I please," He growled, shaking with fury.
With a cry of exasperation I threw my arms in the air. "Why don't you just kill me then! I would be better off dead than spending an eternity in this Hell with you!"
My words seem to echo throughout the great room. I could not have imagined a more appalling noise, a more dreadful sound then those words being repeated over and over again, vibrating off the heavy wooden doors that surrounded us.
I was wrong. Silence. The silence was far worse. I longed for Erik to respond, to scream at me, to punish me with that voice that cut through my spine, splintering my body with it's deep resonance. The only sounds were emanating from the maddening drip of the damp cavernous walls, landing with a dull plop onto the stone floors.
My face was still pushed forward in my pathetic attempt to emphasize my point, my eyes still darting dangerously back and forth across Erik's face. Inwardly, I knew that I had not meant a single word of what was said. I could not let Erik in on my little secret however, I had just taken a bold, decisive move against Him, and I deeply desired to feast upon His reaction. I knew He would be angry, furious even! He would have no choice but to punish me for my insolence, for my lack of respect for the almighty Phantom of the Opera.
I waited, with all the patience of a petulant child. It was as if He knew of my anxiety, and played upon it. Taking a long, a very long, drawn out breath before His face would pucker, as if deciding how to respond. This happened several times, and just as I was to have an outburst from the waiting, He spoke.
"Really, Alessandra?" He said it with not so much with a dejected sadness, but a tactful smirk.
"How dare you! Of course-"
"Come now, it's time we stop these childish games, I am growing weary of the repetition. We both know what you really want."
My mouth gaped open, I wobbled my head in an attempt to shake the words out of my ears. "Excuse me? I do not know what you mean, Erik."
"Alessandra," He hissed, stepping closer to me, "Those nights spent before the mirror, pleading, crying out my name."
I turned my head embarrassed, shutting my eyes so He could not see the tears form. I felt something light and airy upon my face. A whisper past my cheek and danced around my earlobe. "I know, Alessandra. I heard everything."