"Erik you blind hearted, stubborn idiot of a man!"
Margareite's angry voice greeted him the moment he returned to the lair. He had been expecting such a reaction, and subsequently chose to ignore the girl. She was a child. What could she know of such love? He breeched the banks of the lake, and leaned the staff against the wall, walking mindlessly to the cabinet containing his wine supply. Without taking a glass, he uncorked a bottle and took a deep swig, almost choking as he swallowed the bitter taste.
He almost wished he hadn't sent Christine away, but he had found himself becoming far too attached t her once again. Better to send her away the than wait until e could not stand to release her. What was he thinking? He would never be able to stand to release her. He had forced himself to release her, but the cold emptiness of loss once again shrouded his heart in its dark blanket. He shook his head, muttering to himself slightly.
If she had stayed, if he had allowed her continue living with him in the mock happiness that has swirled during the time she had been there, he would most defiantly allow the insanity that sat crouching in the back of his mind waiting for a trigger. He could not allow himself to believe that she loved him; if she had stayed it would have inevitably brought him to the thought that she might possibly love him back. Yes, oh yes, he knew the workings of his insane mind. It was said by the medical books that eh had read that psychotics didn't know they were psychotic. Well this psychotic did. He knew that there was a part of him, if triggered, or allowed to be released, that was over run by the insanity that had gripped him during the three years he had stalked Christine. He was almost rather embarrassed about the idea that when in that state of mind he had watched her as she did positively everything but for showering and caring for her private needs. He found himself almost split into two people: Erik and The Phantom of the Opera. Erik was the child within him that had not yet lost its entire child like need for love and care. The Phantom of the Opera was the deformed monster that had gone insane with the hatred and cruelty of the world. And yet both were one, and every now and again, Erik had found it hard to balance it so that neither tipped, but his mind stayed sane, whenever Christine showed any kindness towards him. The Phantom had whispered in the back of in the back of his mind words of encouragement, thoughts that perhaps Christine was coming to love him. Those were the time when he usually fled out to the water ways or to the wine cabinet. And so he did now. He took another hard swallow, his lips staining slightly red from the rich coloring of the wine.
"Erik are you listening to me?" Margaretie demanded, raising her voice some. The Phantom man ignored her completely, lost in thoughts, his eyes haunted. He took yet another draft of wine, a single drop trailing down the corner of his mouth on the unmasked side. Disgusted with him pathetic reaction to his own orders for Christine to leave, Margaretie growled and snatched the heavy bottle from his hands and throwing it into the lake. Erik jerked to catch it but knew it was long gone.
"Erik straighten up and talk to you dumb-witted harebrain!" she threw the insults at him in hopes of gathering his attention towards her, so that she might extract some reasoning to him exile of Christine. Her hopes were futile however, for rather then reacting in anger at he words, he stared at the lake, his eyes distant as he spoke.
"Harebrained…" he muttered quietly. "Yes, yes, I am insane if the scale is tipped correctly." With that he strode to the stairs, moving with the weariness of a man that had been out all night. Margareite shook her head with an annoyed air, remembering tat he had indeed, been out all night. Erik flopped on the bed without his normal grace, rolling onto his side. Sighing heavily, Margareite marched up the stairs and crawled onto the bed next to him, sitting before his lengthy figure. Deciding that insults had t worked she went in straight for the kill.
"Erik why did you send Christine away?" she asked harshly. She thought she saw him wince slightly, but wasn't entirely sure. "Erik you love her. I could see it in your eyes and you cannot possibly deny it. She would have stayed for you if you had not sent her away!" Erik's eyes closed and she literally growled now with and angry will. She hated doing this, but it had to be done. She saw no other way to gain the Phantom man's attention. Shaking with the anticipation of his reaction, knowing that if she did not scramble away quickly enough he could very well throw her in anger, she reached out, tearing the mask from his face, rolling akimbo off the bed and onto the floor without a second's time wasted.
Looking up, she almost gasped, but bit her lip, knowing that the reaction would cause even more anger if she showed horror at the deformity that lay before her. The once-masked side of his face was nothing like the other; his eyes socket was sunken in terribly, his eye's brightness the only thing that kept his eye visible, his nose not completely formed on that side, its skin potted and clinging to bone, empty space where cartilage should have been, his cheekbone ridged in what looked terribly uncomfortable. Everywhere on that side of his face, the skin was red and looked irritated, and slightly iridescently shiny.
But Erik hardly reacted. He looked at her with the sad eyes of a wounded beast, knowing it was trapped.
Only he was trapped by his own mind rather then an iron cage. Turning slowly, he pivoted away from her sight. No point in forcing her to look upon his deformation. Surely she would request to leave now, if not simply run with a will to the gondola and charge from the Lair without a glance back. He closed his eyes against the shuddering knowledge. With a shaking sigh, he spoke.
"You are free to go if you wish Margareite," he said quietly. "There is no point in you staying here knowing the monster that lay before you every time to look at me. I give you your leave to go. You are in perfect health now. The condition was that I would care fro you until you were well. The condition has endured itself. Go with my good will."
A rustle of clothing sounded behind him, and he waited for the sound of quickly pattering feet as she ran form the room, but the sound of her tiny bare feet pattering on the ground was slow and sure, stopping before him. He opened his eyes to see the pair of child's feet before him and he raised his head, waiting for the girl to run at second sight of the deformity that had cursed him. But she didn't her eyes were filled with tears, as she placed a gentle hand upon his face. Erik flinched but did not pull away.
The skin was hard and almost smooth about the ridged cheekbone, but the texture softened as she let her small fingers trail down his cheek. A tear escaped her Oak Eyes, and she leaned forward gently to hiss the deformed skin; it was not the kiss that had been Christine's but it was much braver. His lips had remained properly formed, and Christine has kissed him upon his normal lips, but now this girl bestowed upon him a child's unfearing kiss.
It was her goodbye, he was sure. Both girls would say goodbye in the end. He was meant to be alone, cold and lonely fro eternity. It was proving itself in the kindest, and yet cruelest way it could. Erik closed his eyes again against the tears that threatened to leak from his clear blue eyes, now rimmed with the silver of hurting tears.
"We can be deformed together Erik."
Margareite's voice was as clear as an angel's bell and his wet eyes snapped open in surprise. She was smiling gently at him.
"You may not be able to see the worst of my scarring, Erik," she said as he looked at her questioningly. "But there are parts of me that are just as deformed as your face because of their blades and hands." She ran her hand over his foul face again, her gentle caress warm upon cold skin. "Only those of us that are this deformed know that pain of the longing for a perfect body and mind. We are both deformed onside and out. But we can be deformed together." She lowered her voice to a whisper as Erik took her little hand from his ace and covered it in his own. " And if those of us that are deformed like this don't stay together, then we will only prove ourselves truly monsters to leave the other in need of company lonely and sorry."