Thank you everyone for your kind words. Here's chapter 12. Enjoy :)
Her gaze focused on his reflection on the mirror. His eyes were reddened, full of sadness and agony… God, what was it that was breaking his heart, or to be more accurate, who?
But there was something else, something she had not noticed until that moment. He was unmasked. How could someone's face show such a complex duality? A duality which also lied in his own personality. There was his beautiful and gentle side, kind and romantic but then there was his darkest side, so enigmatic that she didn't know it yet. All of that was reflected on his face.
She observed him carefully, without concealing her amazement. Not because of the horror or the fear or the shock of what she was seeing but because he seemed so broken and exposing his darkest secret and the reason why he forced himself to wear a mask. He was completely disfigured; the skin that covered perfectly well his left side became a thin layer of parchment on his right. You could practically define his cheekbones but his nose seemed nonexistent on his ruined side. She discovered that even one of his eyes, which looked normal when he was keeping his mask on, was slightly damaged too. How much suffering did he have to cope with? A knot formed in her throat and his heart ached at the mere thought of that.
For a couple of seconds, their eyes met on the reflection. She was aware that she had interrupted a delicate and intimate moment, so she tried to leave. However, when she had led herself away from the threshold, she heard his voice calling.
'Angeline, come in and close the door behind you…'.
Her body was frozen when his command entered her brain. He had warned her… The last time he had threatened her…
She closed her eyes in anticipation when she listened his voice again.
'I believe I've told you to come…'.
She obeyed, coming in slowly and closing the door, just as he had asked her to do. She did not know if the fact that he was so calmed was a good or a bad sign in those circumstances.
'Nearer…'
Her breathing came in and out in short gasps. She was beginning to think that she was going to pay for what she had done, even though it had not been deliberate this time. Her steps were unsure and slower than before but eventually carried her trembling body to a point behind the chair he was sitting on. She was nearly leaning on the backrest when he startled her by trapping her hands brusquely.
'Well, you wanted an answer to the question of my mask, didn't you? Here you have it…in front of you!', he held her hands even tighter, eliciting a squeak of pain from her lips. 'And now tell me…what do you see? Look at it and tell me!'. The restrain and resignation he had showed previously vanished.
She stared, all of her muscles rigid with tension. Angie bit her lower lip because, for once in her life, she did not know what answer she should give…
'I see…', her voice grew confident little by little. She paused to take a deep breath. 'I see a broken, furious man…'.
Once more, she had given him an unexpected reply. He glanced at her through the mirror before rising and facing her.
An ironic guffaw escaped from his throat while he held both of her shoulders. 'Broken, ehm? Do you know... Do you have a damned idea of what I've been through till now so that you can classify me as 'a broken man'?'. He pressed tighter. 'Do you know what is it like? Living in a constant agony on a daily basis? Do you know how does it feel living in memories of the past each passing day, wanting so hard to let go but with the certain knowledge that the only way of relieving the pain is through death? Do you know what's being called a monster like? Savagely and emotionally rejected?'. He sighed, making an effort to calm himself down. 'Then, I'm afraid that you haven't the slightest idea of being broken down entails, dearest'.
She could feel the hurt in every word he had said. She heard his altered breathing and the growl of his restrained rage. She did not want to say anything. She just looked at him. And it was in that precise moment when she knew. She realized that the man who was in front of her had the richest, purest and finest soul someone could have.
'And I believe that I warned you clearly about NOT bursting into my privacy ever again, despite of what you still keep overstepping the line, not taking my warning seriously'. The mixture of threat, rage and agony in his voice made her shiver.
He raised his hand towards her. Angie's eyes turned glassy with apprehension and sorrow, thinking that he would punish her harder this time due to her impertinence. But, surprisingly, instead of strucking her tender sking his fist fell on the crystal surface of the mirror with a loud crash. It broke into millions of glittering pieces which rained down on the floor of the room.
Erik blocked out the pain caused by the slivers of crystal embedded in his now-bleeding hand. Angie was scared and alarmed and ran to fetch a cloth that could help her stop the bleeding.
For a moment, he did not seem too inclined to let her tend to his hand but, eventually, he conceded in defeat. Delicately, she took the pieces of crystal out of the wounds. He did not complain or show any sign of being in pain except for the frown on his face.
She covered his hand with the cloth and fixed her eyes directly into his, with the utmost honesty reflected on them.
'There are times...', she started while she was placing the rudimentary dressing over his hand. "in which life is the only monster we must face every day'.
With that, she gave him a final glance and left the room to bring some water to clean the wounds. He watched her go, analizing her last words. Why was she helping him? Did not she want to escape his presence after seeing his tortured self? He sighed, sitting down on the nearest chair.
Perhaps she would help him heal the visible wounds he displayed but the inner ones still remained, as painful as ever.
From her bedroom window she could see the church. The same church where her wedding to Raoul had been held. That day had not been easy, either.
She remembered Raoul had found her crying a couple of hours before the ceremony but it had not been for the reason she had given to reassure him, even though it might have sounded believable enough. She had been thinking about rejecting him and breaking their engagement but she did not feel prepared to do so. Not when there had been merely weeks since she had been told that he, her angel, had died... How could she get married knowing that she would never have him back? That he would never know everything she had yearned to tell him?
Raoul came to her, leaning a hand gentil on her shoulder. 'Christine, darling, is everything all right?'. He caressed her cheek tenderly.
She smiled, faking happiness. 'I'm fine, Raoul, really. It's just that I'm a bit anxious about the wedding…', she held his hands. Definetely, her performance was coming out wonderfully. 'All of this makes me very happy…'.
He smiled, dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead
'Everything will go nicely,Little lotte'.
She nodded but sighed as she watched him leaving.
Ah, she would always be little, innocent Lotte for him… Would he ever be able to treat her as a woman, as a wife? No, and the only person who had made her feel like one was no more amongst the living...
She looked around. She looked at the flowers, the invitations, the maids that were ready to help her dressing up. She had to accept her fate. That was her new, comfortable, luxurious and fantastic life she had chosen. From now on she would be a Viscountess... a Viscountess...
The church looked magnificent and shone in all its splendour that evening. It was specially embellished and thousands and thousands of people were looking attentively to the lovely couple...
No. She could not choose that life. Damned her poor judgement! She did not want all of that! How could she ever behave like Raoul's rightful wife if she did not really feel like she was his spouse, not even his lover? Tears came out again from her eyes. She had to come out of that nightmare, even if it meant spoiling the celebrations and breaking Raoul's heart in the process...
Given that there was still plenty of time until the scheduled time for the ceremony, she managed to dismiss her maid, who did not really raise much objection and left at once. However, Raoul's mother interruption prevented her from breaking free of that house. Her cold blue eyes went through hers like daggers when she found her right next to the gates. The woman wore a ruthless expression on her face.
'Oh, poor girl. You must be so nervous...'. Raoul's mother came nearer, a kind of faux sympathy in her words.
Fear flashed through Christine's eyes as she looked at her almost mother-in-law. She decided to go for honesty for once. 'No... I cannot, Madame. I'm very sorry for you, for your son, for everyone involved…but…this is more than I can cope with', she bursted out crying. 'This wedding can't take place...'.
She did not expect the woman's reaction.
'You will marry my son today, just as it was planned. You made your decision, dear, and you can't take it back now'.
She took her by the arm and practically forced her to return to the church.
Christine came back to reality, tossing and turning between the sheets of her bed, unable to get sleep. Her life in that residence was quite similar to life at the de Chagny's. In both occassions she had agreed voluntarilly to that kind of life at first but then the decision had turned against her...
And now she found herself into a downward spiral she couldn't seem to come out from.