Chapter 2

Erik gazed at the broken and splintered chair leg he held in his hand. He ran his fingers over the beautiful carvings running over its form and grimaced when they hit the sharp contrast of the, split wood. Tossing the wood away, Erik stood in the corner, observing the destruction that had rained down on what was once his home. He laughed inwardly, thinking now about how he was in more danger than he had first thought from the mob. More danger than he could have known. Walking alongside the walls of the room it was as if he were tracing it with his person. Erik had returned only to see if there was anything worth salvaging although he did not know what, he had everything he needed, but followed the urge to return here. Closure perhaps.

Walking towards the room that had once been hers, he stopped suddenly at a sound…and he knew it was not rats. Erik disappeared back into the corner, into the shadows where he had been moulding, into the darkness.

A ballet brat, perhaps.

Nothing was left here that would interest an angry mob now. There was nothing to take, nothing to destroy, so the prying eyes of a curious ballet brat was an obvious guess.

Erik watched the soft glow of candle light come across the lake. As the boat approached, he was puzzled as to why it was still in one piece, but realised it was not here when the mob arrived. Raoul and Christine had taken the little craft when they left, so it had most likely been on the opposite shore since. Erik gritted his teeth at the thought of the boy, yet the memory was fleeting as he again concentrated on seeing who had come to his former home. The small boat halted at the bank of the lake and he heard a sharp intake of breath as his guest met with the sight of destruction. He could see only the form of a figure hooded in a dark cloak, until the figure sat the lantern on the ground and turned to walk the banks of the lake. It was then the hood of the cloak fell to her shoulders, and Erik saw who had come.

An ex Ballet brat then, close enough.

A smile almost touched the corners of his mouth at the irony of it all. He felt he must have had a strange epiphany, because now the celestial spirit filled him and Erik had no doubt that there was a God, since He seemed to have no greater pleasure than to torture him. It almost made him feel like singing a holy requiem. He watched as she unfastened her cloak and after a brief search, took something from the cloak. Erik could see it was paper, a letter. She let the cloak fall behind her and then stepped forward to the very edge of the lake. Watching the rise and fall of her chest quicken, he did not know if it was the cold or fear….or something else. He noticed as the light from the lantern shone around her, illuminating her body. She appeared softer somehow, and it was definitely Christine, but she seemed different. Lowering and raising his head to gaze at her again, Erik realised how she was a woman now, and not the adolescent he had taught and loved.

She stepped further forward to the very edge of the bank and took the letter in her hand. Christine looked at it and the held it close to her chest. She whispered something incoherent to Erik's hearing due to his position. But he was close enough to see tears rolling down her cheeks as she tossed the letter into the lake. Her heavy breathing began to calm and she turned, while pulling on her cloak, to enter the boat again. Erik watched half amazed and half dumbstruck at what had just happened as she and the glowing light from the lamp faded away. He snapped back to reality when he remembered that she had thrown a letter into the lake and he knew that it would not be too deep for him to see where it had landed. Erik rose again and walked to the water. He saw the letter through the mist and it was still sinking. Without realisation or self control, he waded into the lake toward the object, grasping it just before it sank out of sight. It was only when Erik was out of the water and looking at the letter in his hand that he noticed how he had abandoned all he had gained in the past months. He had waded into the water fully clothed for what she had left behind and he cursed himself for it.

Erik stared in disbelief at the letter. His mind had been made up the moment he saw it. Against his better judgement, he knew he would read it and after allowing it to dry he opened the envelope. Relieved that the ink had not run too terribly, he began to read.

Dearest Erik,

In writing you this letter I know your eyes will never glance upon it, but I assure you that makes writing it no less difficult.

I have not forgotten about you. Since the night of Don Juan, so much was left undone…unsaid…I know it is now too late for either of us to say anything that may make things better for the both of us. Yet what was done was done, and it cannot be ignored or forgotten. I left you with nothing but the ring. Please, please realise how much the ring means, how much it holds. It was the only thing left of myself to give you, and in that, a part of me will belong to you forever.

You amazed me…but you terrified me at the same time. Erik, your black moods, your blind rage…you were mad, and I was afraid, so very afraid. I saw your face, yes, but I also saw your soul and like every part of you, it is dark, twisted, beautiful, and that is you.

But you left me with this burden of unknowing guilt which keeps me from feeling human at the best of times. Your hold over me still weighs strong and now I cry, not knowing whether to beg for you to release me from it. You asked me to make a choice, you asked me! You made me choose! Were I to refuse a man gone insane. I am punished still. I chose you and you refused me. Now I am trying to justify my childish ways by being more childish and blaming you. I am not a woman at all, look now I pity myself. If I ask to know if you hated me for leaving with Raoul, I will in truth only be asking myself.

I hoped to write to justify my actions, and now only see and realise I do not know myself. I see now I am trying to justify my own decisions. So much has changed. I see you now for what you are, we are both broken, and I love you still. A madman, musician, murderer and……a man.

I remain yours Christine.

Erik gazed at the parchment with bemusement wishing the ink had simply ran. What in the hell. He thought he did not understand the half of it to him she was speaking like a woman gone mad. Then the feeling of bemusement faded and in its place washed over a seething anger., and questioning.

My name…how did she know my name? He questioned himself spinning on heel away from the lake raising his hand to his head spreading his fingers through his hair in disbelief, he felt the sweat that had formed there since reading the letter the chills from the lake long forgotten.

His movements stopped and he slowly turned to face the lake once more stepping towards it he tore the letter into as many pieces as it would become. This started slowly until the emotion swept over him and it became a frantic desperate frenzy destroying the letter and letting the paper silently fall all around him into the lake from whence it came.

How dar…how could she even possibly come to even think she knew me enough to have the complete blind ignorance to think, to tell me how could she knows or knew me at all she knows nothing. This is a mess a mess I simply do not understand, this was not meant for me to see yet it was intended for me I saw it I read it and understand absolutely nothing. Erik stopped from his moment of emotional upheaval realisation slowly seeping through his veins.

I need to know, and she is still here and I will find out, Madame De Chagny what the meaning of this is! Erik turned for the boat realising it was not there and thought of what was the quickest way to get to Christine.

I can cut her off before she reaches the mirror. At that Erik turned and melted into the shadows to find her and the answers.

As he quickly stalked through the passage ways thoughts questions and anger flew through his mind.

Why?

Why now?

What of your life surely, surely nothing tragic could have befallen your beloved Roaul. Erik bitterly laughed inwardly.

How did you know my name or think you had the right to address me by it?

And what? What is it that you want from me I have nothing for you you already took my soul or what was left of it I have nothing you would want and certainly nothing that I would want to give to you. Erik wanted to take her by the hair and drag her down once more for what she was attempting to bring on him again, he wanted to hurt her as she had hurt him. Erik could hear her footsteps as his pace quickened to meet hers he turned up the passage leading straight to her and stopped dead as he saw once more from behind the mirror, what was once her dressing room door click shut taking her and all of the light that open door held with it.