He leaned in, His lips hovering a hairbreadth's away from mine. So close I could see every little line indented into the flesh, I memorized them for fear I would never again have the opportunity. His breathing turned ragged and each tuft of air that blew onto my forehead made my composure slip further and further away from me.
His cheek twitched and I sensed His apprehension. As difficult as this was for me, I could not begin to imagine how complicated this was for Erik. I wondered if He really thought me to be Christine. If His delusions proved true, and He finally slipped off the edge into insanity. A more dangerous hope arose, a hope that Erik did, in fact, know it was me. Me, and not His precious little chanteur that stood before Him. I extinguished the possibility of the latter. For now.
I stared up at Him, helplessly. Moments ago, I had been in control. I had initiated this dicey game, and somehow Erik had managed to take the reins, once again.
An awkward moment settled in as His eyes meet mine, and like a shy little girl, I avert them, closing them with haste as I wait. I feel His fingertips graze my forehead, tracing a line down my nose, over my lips, and my chin. They traced their way down the column of my throat, lingering on my pulse point that beat mercilessly with anticipation. His hands continued downward, spreading apart at my collarbone. Nothing about this encounter was modest, yet Erik was ever the gentleman and completely avoided traveling where the neckline disappeared into the curve of my breasts.
It was agonizing, His hands exploring my body, but our lips remained parted. They taunted me with their imminence to my own, and I could slowly feel my eagerness take control.
Patience is a virtue, but I had never been virtuous. And I did not intend on starting now.
"Erik. Kiss me, like her. Like Christine," I begged.
With a whimper of pleading, I strained my neck forward in an audacious attempt to end my agony. Seconds ticked away slowly, and still I waited! Opening my eyes in the confusion I saw Erik before me, staring at me with horror.
His hands froze instantly. Warmth dissipated, and an all too familiar chill set in. The large slabs of ice were heavy on my heaving chest, pushing against my heart with deviant resistance. I look to His face for answers, but He turns away, exhaling a breath that must have been pent-up inside for so long. So very long.
I removed my hands from His and bring them up to His chin, trying to block His face in so He has no choice but to look at me. Flesh contacts flesh, and He shrinks away, recoiling from my touch like a poison that must be avoided at all costs.
"What is wrong?" I ask. But, He says nothing. He only backs away, and pushes the door open. Slithering out through a crack, He closes it behind Him.
He left me. Waiting.
Still, I waited. I dared to offer hope that He would come to His senses and return to me. That He was just nervous or uncertain or shy. Excuse after excuse filtered through my mind, passing through me along with many uncounted seconds. Each slipping away from my grasp, as my hands still groped at the thin air as I was reaching for His face.
I was so shocked, so appalled. And yet, so confused. I stood there, as clear as the rising sun, offering myself to Him. Offering Christine to Him, and He refused. Me. He refused me. The jealousy came quickly and very suddenly.
He could not accept me simply because I was not her and I never would be. I was a complete fool to believe otherwise.
Jealousy. It was maddening.
I groped at the dresser ledge, grabbing whatever heavy object I could find. Without even looking to see what was in my hand, I hurled it at the door with all my strength. Screaming as it crashed into the wood and shattered into pieces with sharp cracks onto the cold stone floor.
I did not mean to lose control, and I most certainly did not mean the venomous waste that leaked from my mouth next, "Why do you not want me, Erik? Am I not good enough for you? Or do you reject me because I am not her?"
I was enraged. Not angry with myself and not angry with Erik. But angry with, her. That stupid, spineless girl that had destroyed Him so. That could not love Him as He loved her. She was gone now, and there was no hope of her ever returning. And still, He pined. Still, He obsessed.
I was infuriated that fate had not allowed us to meet before the incident. How both of our lives would have been different! How wonderful life could have been…
It was useless to dwell on the past, the impossible. The past could not be changed, no matter how much, Erik or I, wished it could. But the future, was in our hands. In my hand, that reached for the door knob, turning it slowly. The door creaked open, and I poked my head around the edge.
Erik stood in front of me, no more than a few inches from the door. Tears flowing on His stained cheeks, I hesitantly stepped forward to brush them away. He was hurting, and it was all my fault. It killed me to see Him in so much pain, pain that I had caused.
"She's gone, Erik. But, I am here. Now. I am here."
"Alessandra," He moaned my name as He collapsed into my arms. Reciting it over and over again into my chest as He wept.
"My Alessandra."