The Healer
Erik, tortured by his own dark deeds and desires, flees from the Opera house, and into the country. When he finds himself injured and alone, a young midwife known as Louise steps in to help him. Revelations follow when he learns that she was a gypsy child as well, and has secrets of her own.
Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Don't. Cant. Wont. (Though not for lack of trying).
Erik ran on, plagued by his own remorse. He had no home, no money, no Christine, the only thing left to him was his mask. Tears burning down his hateful face, he ran through the under streets of Paris and out into the country. He hid on trains and stole whenever and wherever he could. He grew thinner than was thought possible, cut and scratched himself, yet never stopped to dress his wounds. His clothes were ruined to the point that they hung on his skeletal frame in shreds and clung to his soaked body as he huddled in the rain. Erik never stopped weeping. He hated himself for all he had done. God! (Though he didn't believe in the all powerful deity) He had killed people, all for her! But she still left with the fop, Erik's fists clenched in fury, then crumpled as he buried his face in his hands and wept again.
One dismal evening, running skulked low in a ditch beside and old dirt road, a stone turned under his foot and he slipped, cutting a long gash in his leg. Whimpering, Erik tried to stand, but no sooner had he half-gained his balance did he collapse. Dragging himself to the side of the wagon ruts where hopefully some blind driver might run over him and end his misery, he lay there in the rain whispering to himself, "Christine…Christine…Angel, forgive me…"
The slow clop of a carthorse reached his ears and Erik flung his hands over his face. A faint "Whoa there," was heard and there were two splashes as a pair of men jumped from their wagon. The golden light of a lantern peering into his eyes was the last thing Erik saw before he fell into welcome blackness.