I'm responding to a poke (thank you, Hsibelius). Sorry about the lateness... I did warn you. Anyway... thanks for keeping me at it. Enjoy the latest installment.
Chapter 23
I sat down in the computer room and logged on, my fingers trembling so much I could barely type my username and password.
I was still unsure whether or not this was a good idea. In fact, I realised as I clicked on the Internet Explorer icon, it might not be much of an idea at all. This could be all for nothing, this little inspiration Richard had triggered in me. And even if I did find out something, what would I do with the information? I supposed it might help with getting to understand why Erik was the way he was. I just hoped I would find something... like an old news report, some article written by someone who may have known him before… I would have welcomed anything, even a measly footnote. Maybe if I found something out then I could make him realise that he could trust me… that he didn't need to threaten me and my friends and family in order to keep me with him.
Not entirely certain where would be the best place to start, I went onto and, with no small amount of trepidation, typed in the words " disfigurement" "France" and finally "Erik".
It was such a long shot, but it was better than sitting around worrying about what Erik was going to do, especially if he found out Richard knew about him. It made my stomach flip just thinking about it… my memory returning to the man I had met so briefly in Rome before his supposed suicide. Something inside me lurched sickeningly. How could I have allowed such a thing to simply slip from my mind? Why didn't I remember it every time I looked at Erik's masked face?
Shaking my head, not wishing to dwell on these thoughts any longer, I looked back to my web search. It would have been better if I knew some more specifics… such as Erik's age, the town he was born in… perhaps even a last name. I couldn't imagine that there was nothing anywhere that might lead to information about him. He couldn't be a complete ghost, could he? People like Erik didn't just drop out of the sky. But I knew that I would be lucky to find anything with the little information on Erik I had. He had supposedly trusted me, but I still knew so little about him. Just the thought of asking him was laughable, and I shifted nervously in my chair at the thought of what he might do to me if I ever dared ask for such details. Even that night, back when he had still trusted me… he had been so reluctant to talk about himself and his past.
Swallowing a lump in my throat at the thought of that night and concentrated of the page that had loaded on my screen. There were a few websites up, I noted with a mixture of exhilaration and relief, but after clicking on each one, I found they yielded nothing of use. All sad stories about people with deformities… but none about Erik. There were a few French websites and, although I could understand a little of what was written, I had to bring up a web translator to help me. But even that didn't bring any useful information to light.
I must have sat in front of that computer for an hour, flicking endlessly and trying all different methods of finding some information on Erik. Finally, lethargically, I decided that I would do one more search, and that would be it. Most of my exhilaration had left me, and I slumped back in my chair as I clicked on a link and waited for the page to load. I rubbed my sore eyes and stifled a yawn.
What came up looked, after it was translated, like a less than professional attempt at telling various stories about a hospital somewhere in the French countryside. The Sainte Marie psychiatric hospital. Whoever had done this research had clearly been more interested in the scandal behind the hospital than anything else, manufacturing horror-story scenarios about what happened to patients there… stories of abuse and malpractice…I read through it all, growing more and more weary as each story failed to tell me anything useful. It sounded like some fan fiction story for "The House on Haunted Hill". But as I read on, it turned out to be a real place. There was a scan of an old newspaper article about a fire that destroyed the building twenty-two years ago, on November 16th 1983 and killed seven people.
There were other stories too… a number of cases of suicide, and reports of the terrible conditions the patients staying at the hospital were forced to live in… all horrific, but not what I was looking for.
I clicked on another story on the same website.
"Perhaps one of the most gruesome stories that took place behind the walls of this hospital was that of a young boy. According to doctors who worked at the hospital, he was hideously deformed. He became infamous throughout the locality, known as 'The Living Corpse'…"
It was as though an electric cattle prod had been touched to my central nerve system. I jolted upright in my chair and stared at the screen, eyes so wide they quickly began to hurt.
"According to doctors working at the hospital, the young boy was mentally handicapped and considered harmless, but was often the subject of abuse from fellow inmates and, according to one doctor, sometimes from the very people who were meant to take care of him."
By this point I almost couldn't breath. The website still hadn't identified Erik by name… but the words 'living corpse' could not have spelled it out more clearly. Rubbing desperately at my eyes, still hardly able to believe what I was reading, I peered closely at the screen, desperate to see what else it might tell me…
"These stories are only accentuated by the supposed escape of this boy at the age of fourteen. Several appeals were made to anyone with information on this boy's whereabouts by Doctor Pierre Debienne…"
Pierre Debienne…
At this definite name I sprang into action. Bringing up a new search I typed in "Dr. Pierre Debienne" along with the name of the town near where the hospital had been. Instantly something came up and I clicked the ink quickly. It was a hospital website, with a list of the staff and, I saw with bitter disappointment, a note saying that Pierre Debienne had retired at the age of 65 only a few weeks before after twelve years of working there. However, there was an e-mail address for the hospital and, after several moments thought, I decided anything was worth a shot at this point, even if they simply said they could not pass my message on.
This is what I typed:
Dear Sir/Madam,
My name is Christine Day. I am trying to contact Dr Pierre Debienne, and heard that, until recently, he was working at your hospital. I understand that you cannot give me his personal details, but if you would please ask him to contact me by replying to this e-mail address or by calling the number below, then I would be very grateful. Tell him it is about Sainte-Marie Hospital and "Erik".
Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
Christine Day.
I put my mobile phone number at the bottom and then sat for a little while to think about what I was about to do. This might well be a futile action, not to mention dangerous, but then again, I had thought the same thing about looking for details about Erik on the internet in the first place. I supposed that, once again, I wouldn't achieve anything by not trying and finally resigned myself over to at least sending the e-mail. I translated it into French first, of course, hoping that it would be accurate enough for them to understand, and then pushed the send button.
Looking at the screen as "E-mail Sent" flashed before my eyes, I felt both deep relief and great anxiety. Honestly I was amazed my search had taken me this far, even if some of the details I had revealed were truly horrific. When I went back to study the hospital website again, I began to wonder about some of the terrible stories that were related there. Had Erik been responsible for the fire that destroyed the hospital? Had he even been there at any time? Well, I was very certain of the latter fact, but still… what if this doctor had no idea who I was referring to? Maybe he simply wasn't bothered about finding Erik anymore. After all, this had been twenty-two years ago.
But a murder was a murder, I told myself regretfully. And if it was true, and Erik had caused started that fire, then according to the details on the website, he was responsible for the deaths of seven innocent people. The thought made me sick. To think that I had actually…
Shuddering slightly at this, I stood up from the computer. There was nothing more I could do now. It would probably be best for me to try and forget about this and not get my hopes up too much. It might take days for this man to reply.
If he replied at all.
Needless to say, it was hard for me to forget about what I had discovered, and as a result it grew even more difficult for me to hide the growing evidence of my distress. I was jumpyand distant andmy emotional state was beginning toaffect my physical well-being as well.Meg pointed out the next day that I was not eating, and I realised that this was true. Staring guiltily down at my chicken pie, I mumbled that I wasn't feeling very hungry. I didn't miss Meg's hurt expression, but I tried to steel myself against it. I couldn't let myself feel too guilty about lying to her… otherwise I would end up telling her everything, and that would only make matters worse.
Worse? That was a laugh. How could things possibly get worse?
Well they were about to. Meg, hurt, confused and frustrated by my miserable and evasive behaviour, finally reached the end of her tether and all but dragged me into her room, pushing me into chair and standing over me like some overbearing schoolmistress. Under any other circumstances I might have found this amusing, but not now.
"Alright… I'm sick of this," she snapped angrily down at me. I winced and my guilt pangs only grew sharper and more painful. "We're supposed to be best friends… you know what best friends do? They talk to each other. They help each other out. Right now there are sheep more willing to talk than you are!"
This small amount of humour was enough to bring a slight smile to my face, but it was gone all too quickly as Meg knelt down by the chair and nudged my leg with her fist.
"Come on… I don't like seeing you this way. Do you realise how worrying it is? And I'm starting to get paranoid about it." She tilted her head at me. "Should I be?"
I stared back at her, anxiously chewing on the inside of my lip. The drawbacks of telling her everything far outweighed the benefits, and I was still concerned for her safety. Even if it meant losing her friendship… I didn't want Erik to hurt her, if things ever got that bad. Worrying about my family and Richard was bad enough. AT least I could keep Meg safe.
"You don't need to worry Meg," I told her as calmly as possible, fighting the guilt. When she gave me a sceptical look I shrugged slightly. "I'm just going through some weird stuff right now."
"So tell me about it," she insisted, tugging at my arm like a little child. "Get it off your chest."
"Well, you already know about it," I pointed out, taking shelter in the half-truth that lay in this statement. But my point seemed lost on Meg for a few moments and, sighing, I went on. "You… you remember the guy I told you about."
Another few seconds of confusion before the look of realisation spread across my friend's pretty features. "Oh… you mean him?"
"Yes, 'him'," I said, without much enthusiasm.
Suddenly Meg was literally buzzing with excitement, her gossip-queen side emerging right on queue. She pestered me for details, and I trod very carefully around the truth, telling only parts of the story, never allowing her to glimpse the darker side of the evens which took place over the holidays, and twisting things to make my dilemma into something a little more… 'normal'.
"So now you can't decide who you like better?" Meg asked.
"It's not like that," I told her wearily. "I mean… I like them both, only in different ways. Richard is just sweet and normal."
"But your Italian hunk is dark and mysterious?" she asked with a sly grin.
"You have no idea," I said wearily.
There was a silence while Meg contemplated my situation. I supposed, in a way, it was good to talk with her in this way because, whether I liked it or not, this was becoming a dilemma in itself. I did care for both Richard and Erik… but they seemed to be polar opposites in almost every respect, just like Meg had pointed out. With Richard I felt security… not the kind I had begun to feel with Erik, but a simple feeling of comfort and stability. Erik had given me security in the way that he would defend me from anything that might threaten me (something which seemed so ironic now). But what he really offered was that excitement… that thrill…
I slumped forward in the chair with my head in my hands. Wasn't it enough to love just one person and be loved by just one? Why did I have to have two?
"What are you going to do?" Meg asked.
"I don't know," I said, truly exasperated. "I hate to think this might all come down to a choice. What if…"
"You choose the wrong one?"
Actually, I had been about to say, what if I chose a Richard and, in retaliation, Erik killed him? That didn't seem like much of a choice to me. But I held back this comment and stared at Meg, waiting for some words of wisdom. But for the moment she too seemed at a loss of what to say.
"I mean… how long have you known this other guy? Not as long as Richard, right?"
"Richard and I grew up together… that's not the same thing."
"I guess not," she agreed, going back to her thoughts. "But you had feelings for this guy when you were going out with Richard… and now it's like you're not sure anymore. What made you change your mind?"
Oh, I'd been dreading this line of questioning. I just knew it would lead to Meg uncovering what had happened between me and Erik during the holiday. She was infuriatingly good at finding scandal. It was like a sixth sense.
"Just… when we were together…" I began, fighting the heat and colour that was quickly rising to my cheeks.
"Yeah… what happened when you two were together?" Here her face took on an expression of great curiosity. It only made my embarrassment intensify and before I had the chance to fumble a response Meg had seen and, worse, understood, what my discomfiture meant. "Oh Chris…"
"Meg, don't," I begged desperately, not wanting to hear her say it.
"Did you sleep with him?"
My whole body convulsed. No one knew of that event, save Erik and myself. Admitting it aloud to Meg made me want o throw up, but at the same time I didn't have the heart to deny my actions. So instead I returned my head to my hands, hiding away from the look of shock on my friend's face.
My silence was enough of an answer for her.
"Bloody hell…"
"I know," I mumbled into my palms, really not needing her to go into a rant about how irresponsible and stupid I had been. "I know…"
"Christine, do you realise… Oh god… I mean… did you use protection?"
My head jerked up in indignant horror. "Are you crazy? Of course we did?"
"Are you on the pill?"
I faltered. "Well… no, but… we did use a… you know…" My embarrassment returned with a vengeance. I had been too embarrassed to use the word in front of Erik too. He had chuckled slightly in the darkness and reassured me gently that "it would be alright". At the time, I had just assumed it meant he knew what he was doing.
"Well… that's no guarantee," she said. "What if it broke or something?"
That was more than I needed to hear. I think I must have scared Meg with the look I gave her and the way I all but screamed at her to shut up. But truly… with everything else I had to deal with… the prospect of something going wrong with the contraception… and of me possibly being pregnant with Erik's child…
"Sorry," Meg said, rushing to my said and putting an arm around my shaking shoulders. "I didn't mean to get you all worked up… I'm just worried."
"You're worried?"
"I know… I'm sorry. But, I mean… when are you next due?"
"What?"
"Your period?" she prompted urgently. "When are you due?"
Still fighting to keep my breathing in check and suppress my violent sobbing, I contemplated Meg's question. "I don't know… in a week, maybe?"
"Have you been feeling sick?"
"No." Well, that wasn't strictly true. Ever since coming back to England I had been so worried and upset by what was happening, or what might happen, that I had felt almost constantly sick. But I hadn't been throwing up or anything like that.
Oh god… but what if? The idea was implanted in my head now and I felt my hands going instinctively to my stomach as I imagined a tiny baby growing inside there. Erik's baby…
"Oh god, I'm sorry, Chris… I really didn't mean to…"
"No, no, it's okay," I insisted breathlessly, rubbing at my eyes to try and staunch the fresh tears threatening to fall. "I just can't get it out of my head now…"
"Well we could go and get you a test," Meg said, squeezing me gently. "I mean… like I said, condoms are no guarantee… but if you use them properly it's fine. Honestly."
"Nice of you to tell me that now," I said bitterly.
"Look… next time I'm in town I'll get you one and you can try it. I'll go this weekend and I promise you it'll be fine, okay?" She gave me another squeeze and I smiled half-heartedly, not wanting to make things any worse by telling her just how upset she had made me. Even when I left her room, after her numerous reassurances, I was still buzzing with paranoia, and kept thinking that something was moving about inside me… almost like some kind of parasite. Somehow, even the possibility of having Erik's child filled me with terror. I wasn't ready for a child… and what kind of effect would one have on my life? It would ruin everything… school... probably my future…My whole life was going to the dogs, and there was nothing I could do except sit back and watch. What good was that going to do me?
Back in my room this thought got me so worked up I kicked the side of my desk and nearly burst into frustrated tears. God, I hated Erik! I hated him! How could he do this to me? Why did he have to come into my life? Why? Why?
I kicked the desk again at every question until finally I collapsed in the chair and began to sob into my two hands.
I didn't hate him. That was the most ridiculously unfair part. Somehow, I couldn't find it in my heart to truly hate him. All I felt was overwhelming pity with every new thing I learned of him. Incarceration in a hospital? Being mocked by his fellow inmates? Abused by the people who were mean to care for him? Being branded 'The Living Corpse'. Erik might be monstrous, but it was only because of the horrors he must have endured. No wonder he ran away from that place.
And perhaps he came back to make sure no one else would suffer the same horrors. Or maybe just out of a selfish desire to avenge himself. Miserably, I realised how well that would suit Erik's rather twisted sense of justice.
I reached up to my neck and rubbed the bruising there. Much like he considered it 'just' to punish me for removing his mask, I thought to myself, sadly. No matter how many times I went over it in my head, I could not believe he had gone so far as to nearly choke me… to threaten me. Was it such a terrible misdeed… to remove his mask… to see his face? Well, perhaps, if you considered all the pain it had caused him in his life already…
And what kind of pain would a child of Erik's have to go through? I thought, my hands wrapping around my abdomen once again. What if the baby were born with the same deformity as Erik? Twenty years ago there wouldn't really have been tabloid newspapers to seize upon the story… but now…
I hung my head again. Perhaps I was worrying unduly… this 'baby' might only be a figment of my imagination… a construct of paranoia. Even I knew that contraception was effective most of the time. It was only the smallest chance that I might actually be pregnant, if we had used it properly.
But had we? It had been dark… I couldn't see a thing. How could I be certain of anything?
That night I worked myself into such a frenzy that I ended up running to the bathroom and throwing up violently. Afterwards, when my stomach finally settled, I spent a good half an hour sitting next to the toilet, sobbing as if the world were about to end… and later, when I finally drifted into sleep, my dreams made me wish it would.
Author's Note: I was a bit concerned about the realism of this chapter, but given the nature of the internet these days I hope it doesn't seem to unbelievable. Also a note about the contraception paranoia... I've been wanting to put somthing like this in, especially when people began wondering whether Erik and Christine used any protection. Because things do go wrong... and, well, we'll have to see how it turns out.Oh, and I'm glad people are warming up to Richard just a little...that was the idea of the last chapter but, as we can tell, it's not really helping Christine much.
Please tell me how you think things are going. Your reviews are a real help... seriously. And keep poking me to update... I'm getting so slack. Thanks guys!