DISCLAIMER: Please refer to Chapter Two
You should have just left her there to die. You ARE a murderer you know.
Those were just accidents. The stagehand slipped. It was not intentional. I only wanted to frighten him.
You are still a murderer.
He signed deeply as the bow of his gondola reached his sanctuary lake island. His conscious was right he thought. I am a murderer. He peered down at the helpless woman lying in his boat below. She was still unconscious although quite obviously breathing. He had knocked out many a stagehand to realize that she was going to be fine. I should never have brought her here. What was I thinking? She is going to wake up, take one look at me, and start swimming as fast as she can out of here.
As he stepped onto dry land, he carefully leaned down to grasp her petite voluptuous body. Well, it is safe to say she is not a ballerina. He suddenly felt a wave of guilt. He of all people had no place offending such a beautiful woman.
As he approached his spare room, he glanced once around his abode. He noticed the blood stained pages of his precious compositions littering the floor and the piles of broken glass lying beneath the golden mirrors. Rage had certainly reared its ugly head when Christine had left him. Then again, this woman is injured because of the rage. Feeling yet more guilt, he opened the heavy mahogany door which led into the bedchamber.
It had been Christine's room. He specially chose each bit of furniture, each speck of cloth, and every single trinket personally to suit her needs. A fine cherrywood canopy bed lay in the middle of the room with silken sheets and decadent pillows. Luxurious tapestries of lovers and flowers hung upon the richly painted walls while extravagant floor rugs lay on the cold stone floor. The room was a vision of deep rich gold and green which perfectly complimented the deep red of the furniture. In the corner of the room a vanity stood. A petite upholstered chair embroidered with dancing angels stood unused and never touched beneath it. Atop lain every necessity a dainty woman would ever need: a silver brush and matching comb, black satin ribbons and hairpins, luxurious lotions and perfumes, and immediately above, mounted on the wall, a large golden-framed mirror.
Erik's heart broke once more at the sight of the room. The two dozen red roses which sat in a vase by her bed let an aroma that made his body begin to shake. You need to forget about her now. The pretty blond needs you. For the first time in your life, you are needed.
He laid her helpless body on the bed's silken sheets carefully ensuring her head would not be unbalanced or sprained. As he removed her boots, he realized that he may as well make her comfortable because she was most likely going to be here a long time. He slowly and gently began removing the sleeves of her light blue dress and pulled the beautiful garment over her still blood stained head. Next he untied her corset to allow her breathing to become more regular. As he removed the corset, he noticed bad bruising on her arms and sides. Suddenly, he realized what had happened to her. Mon Dieu, they trampled this poor creature. No one even stopped to politely step over her.
It was then he decided that he should clean her up and check her body for any broken bones. Needless to say, he was sure she would be in a lot of pain when she awoke form her stupor. In an instant, he darted out of the bed chamber and headed towards his supply cabinet near the kitchen. Yanking open the heavy oak doors, he began to read his items.
Lavender
Pain Subsiding Herbs
Tea
Flour (Hmm… I do not think I have ever used that…)
Sterilizing Herbs
Basil
Spices
A box of French truffles
3 bottles of French wine
Cloths
He reached and snatched up the necessary items he needed and made his way back to the bed chamber. He set the necessary items on the small bedside table and walked into the adjoining bathroom just beyond the vanity. He dabbed the clean white cloths in the water-filled basin and made his way back to the blond woman in Christine's bed. After cleaning her pretty face and forehead, he examined her arms and legs for any traces of broken bones. Upon feeling her wrist, she stirred and winced with pain. She opened her stunning blue eyes for a moment and drifted back into her unconscious stupor. Realizing that her wrist was not broken, but definitely strained, he wrapped it with the remaining cloth he has brought from the kitchen.
After sterilizing and dressing her wounds, he decided that it was best she be left alone to rest. I will come back when she awakes. Surely she will want something to ease her pain.
Meanwhile, Cecilia was having the most wonderful dream. She was back at her father's house in the country surrounded by a grassy meadow of lush green and sweet smelling daisies. She was sitting on a white linen blanket underneath a grand tree.
As her face rose toward the brilliant blue sky, she heard a voice. The voice was calling her name. Her eyes squinted to the shadow running towards her in the distance. His long blond hair was swept from his face as he floated through the meadow. Fredrick.
"Cecilia! I love you!" he claimed.
"Fredrick! I love you!" she returned.
He finally reached her blanket and plopped his body down next to hers. His gray suit suited his body well. His jacket defined every curve of his chest and every flex of his arms. Her sparkling blue eyes met his bold brown ones. Her face flushed as he leaned into kiss her ever so lovingly. At this moment, she felt as though she was in heaven. It was as though Fredrick never broke her heart. He was there beside her.
"Marry me, Cecilia. Marry me and be mine forever," he pleaded.
As she leaned in to kiss him once again, she abruptly felt a surging pain run up her spine causing her vision to diminish. She awoke in a strange room she had never been before. As she attempted to suppress her breathing, she began to wonder. Where am I?