The Color of Despair

Erik paced in his prison cell impatiently. The tall man with dark features and sadness in his eyes had spent the past three days contemplating his place in the world now that his only true love, the only girl who could see the goodness and passion which lay inside him, had left him for another man. Everything he had done, he had done for his beloved Christine, and this was how she repaid him. She left him for the wolves. It was her arrogant lover, Raoul, who had led the mob of police to his hidden underground home. It was Raoul, the man Erik let live as one last gift of love for Christine, who had betrayed him.

I should have just let the fop hang, Erik thought to himself, as he shook the bars in frustration before sitting exhaustedly down onto the sad mattress which served has his bed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. True, he had done horrible deeds: hanging a janitor who got too curious and almost discovered Erik's home, threatening countless people to coerce them to do his bidding, and even stabbing a man to death simply because he got in the way; but they were all to help Christine find the success that was due to her. She had worked hard and Erik needed to make sure that she was properly rewarded. What he had not counted on was falling in love with the brown-eye, dark brunette beauty. She had been the one shining light in Erik's world of darkness and despair, and now that last light had left him. He was once again alone in the darkness of his own mind.

His mind drifted off to the happy moments of his life, his early childhood-days spent running about in the garden of his grandmother, Margaret. She had a glorious estate filled with trees and gardens of all kinds. He loved spending the days by himself running about on the numerous paths or just sitting in one of the several benches scattered about, and finding peace in Nature. Even now in his mind, he could hear the wind rustling through the trees, birds singing, and crunch of gravel under his feet. The sunshine would warm his skin through the trees and Margaret's rose gardens filled his nostrils with a sweet scent. Bright red roses had always been his favorite flower because of this, but not anymore. In an attempt to share his wonderful gift with Christine, she had now tarnished it and left him despising the flower as it reminded Erik of her.

Erik sat up and stared in concentration as a surpassed memory suddenly came rushing back. While most of his grandmother's roses were hues of red, pink, white, and peach, it was her small patch of oddly-colored blue roses that had captured his curiosity.

"Grandma, why are those roses blue?" he could hear his younger self ask.

"I'm not entirely sure, my boy. Red ones used to grow there, but now only the blue ones do," she replied.

"I think I know why."

Margaret's eyebrows shot up in anticipation of her young grandson's theory. "Go on, Erik, what are your thoughts?"

"Look at the big tree right here," he pointed. Margaret looked and noticed that the oak tree spread a shadow over that small corner of her white picket fenced-in garden. The rest of the garden received full sunlight.

"I think that the flowers got cold and sad from sitting in the dark and never seeing daylight anymore."

Margaret was stunned by Erik's observation. "Yes, dear Erik, I suppose that is why they are blue."

Erik stared around his jail cell. The brick and metal walls were cold and barren. He was like his grandmother's roses. Love and passion once flowed from him through his artistic talents, but now his sunlight was gone. He was cold and sad from being thrust once again into his own darkness. He could imagine his own heart turning from brilliant rose red to the dark cold color of the blue roses. No conscience existed within him since his soul was gone. Instead of dwelling on pain from the past, Erik had a surge of determination on escaping his confinement. All it would take was his once-beloved Christine so say the word. Raoul had the political pull to have all charges dropped and have him released. Erik knew from personal experience that if Christine asked, Raoul could never deny her. No one could ever tell Christine, "no." Once I am free, Erik thought darkly, no one will be able to stop me.

As if on cue, the door to the police station opened and a familiar petite figure entered. Erik smirked evilly to himself. He knew she would come and now it was time for the mind games and manipulation to begin. Turning on the false charm, Erik stood up to meet her gaze and reached toward her through his cell bars.

"Hello, Christine..."

After the charges were dropped and he was released, Erik immediately traveled to his former grandmother's estate. She had died many years ago and the estate had fallen into a severe state of neglect. Dressed in a black suit and long back trench coat to protect him against the chilly morning air, Erik navigated the weed-covered paths to the rose garden. The white picket fence had rotted and the roses grew wild now, but it was still familiar. He skirted his way to the far corner and found it bathed in sunlight. The old oak tree had died and fallen down, letting sunlight once again warm the far corner of the rose garden. Instead of the brightly colored roses that he expected to be there, the patch of blue still remained. He picked one of the dark blooms and stroked it with his black leather clad hand in absolute despair. He had hoped that with the warmth of the sunlight, they would have returned to their fiery red glory.

"I guess there comes a point where there's no going back no matter how much light returns. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've past the point of no return," he whispered to the wind.

He dropped the bloom and turned his back on the rose garden. Putting his hands back into his coat pockets, he strode away from the patch, never to return to the old estate again.