Punjab Lasso
Erik barged into the lair in a hellish fury. Every step he took seemed to deepen the course of the invisible dagger pinching his heart. As he moved to Christine's bedroom he stepped on Leira's tail, but the shriek-like meow and furious hisses of the offended alley cat were distant to his notice. Only one name occupied his mind now. "Christine," he roared at her closed door, banging on it with his fist. He waited for no answer to come. Whether she felt like coming out or not, she would acknowledge his presence one way or another. No, he was not drunk. He had not even thought of a bottle for at least three weeks. His temper often gained complete control of him and Christine knew this. The poor girl frequently listened to him bickering with himself in his study or watched him play devilish songs on the organ, but through it all he made sure to make it up to her after his little fit was done.
But this time, Christine was the very cause of his rage, for he had found in her dressing room, securely hidden in the music box he had given her, the ring which had once noted the engagement of his Christine to one Viscomte de Chagney.
The ring clutched in his grip, he banged again upon her door when suddenly a very frightened looking Christine opened it a crack. With a shout of frustration he pulled the door out of her grasp and thrust it open with such a force it slammed against the wall of stone. Brandishing the ring in her face, he admonished her for merely having the ring in her possession. "Look what I found," he said waving the ring in front of her.
The shock-stricken maiden took a few moments to contemplate the situation. She narrowed her eyes to get a better look at the shiny, specimen Erik held between his thumb and forefinger. Realizing what it was he had found, she gasped in horror. "Erik! Where did you..."- but her question was answered quicker than she could state it.
"Oh, do not think you made it very hard for me, Christine. You should have known by keeping it you only prolonged a catastrophe! Tell me, what is it which I hold in my hand," he asked menacingly?
Christine fumbled with her hands nervously. "Erik, do not play this game with me. You know perfectly well what it is," she stuttered.
He just gave a ferocious growl and placed it in her hand. "No! You look me in the eye and tell me exactly what it is, so you can't deny it later!"
She gave an agitated sigh and looked down at the sparkling studd in her hand.
"It is indeed the ring, Erik. The same ring-" but Erik cut her off.
"The...same ring from your precious viscomte! And in the jewelry box I gave you! I knew you would try to hold on to him in some fashion," Erik shouted, "What is the meaning of this, Christine?"
Christine made eye contact with him now and laid a hand on his arm apologetically, but he relinquished at her touch. The touch of an unfaithful bride would surely singe his skin.
This sudden indignant act left her at a loss for words.
"Well," Erik said in attempt to end her silence.
She folded her hands behind her back, the ring folded tightly in her palm.
"Erik, please. I did not want to hurt you, angel. Raoul was the sweetest of childhood friends I'd ever had, so it was not so easy for me to just throw it away," she pleaded.
He turned to her threateningly; a sinister smile crept upon his face.
"Well, my love, then you should have left it to me." He stalked up to her rapidly and bent down on one knee. Throwing her belly over his thigh, he pinned her in a bent position and wrestled the ring from her hands. She fought him with every fiber of strength she could muster at that position, screaming like a wounded infant, but he grabbed her forcefully, overpowered any attempt of escape. A wave of terror swept over Christine as he pried her hands apart. She felt him take the ring from her and made to get up but he did not release her. Instead, he entwined his left leg over her calves and pushed her down in his lap. He bent low before her ear and whispered, "If you act like a child I shall have to treat you like one, my dear." Her rear end perfectly exposed to him, he outstretched his hand and brought it down swiftly on her bottom. She shrieked lightly and he let her up.
She staggered backward and gained her balance against the wall. A fiery glow in his eyes, he clutched the little ring in his fist, nearly crushing it under his fingers, and stomped to the lake shore. With a surged of fear coming over her, she ran after him, terrified he might do the worst of what she feared.
"Erik, No! Please," she begged reaching his side. He looked down into her beseaching eyes.
"Tell me, Christine, is he still courting you? Better yet, have you been seeing you beloved while my back is turned," he spat angrily.
She gave an anxious shake of her head, but he would not be merciful to any lies she had in store. He clutched his fist harder, hearing a crack of the silver band crumble in his palm. He spared a glance back at her as he lifted his arm above his head. "I would always be more than happy to relieve you of a burden, Christine. So let me destroy any troublesome memories of the boy you might have left." And with that last retort, he flung his wrist and the diamond spectacle soared over the misty waters before sinking through the surface of sewage water.
"No," she shrieked sinking to her knees, her teary face in her hands. Erik whipped around on his heel to look at her. She was crying. Those tears fell for the boy once again. Never would she shed a drop for her poor, unloved Erik.
"Why do you weep for him now? He will never know what took place hear tonight! You share no blame in this action."
Noting he said seemed to halt her flowing tears. Though he felt she deserved to shed every tear in the world at the moment, a pinch at the pit of his stomach made him think twice about what he had done. He bent down low to her level and tried to take her in his arms, but she pulled back. She sank back and removed her face from the cup of her hands. Her eyebrows were narrowed in a hateful way; the redness in her face was indistinguishable from anger or the constant streaks of tears.
"I can never love you now," she said in a demon like whisper. His heart sank at first but the roaring blaze in his chest erupted at these words and he bent forward, grasping her neck.
She paled at the grip he had on her. He made sure no air was escaping through to her mouth. She felt her face redden as he cut off her air supply. She could not breathe. Gasping for air, she tried to pull his arm away but to no avail.
Slowly, he lifted her to her feet, still clutching her throat. He walked forward whilst she stumbled backwards in his grasp. Trudging through the icy water in her night robe, Christine shivered from the sub-zero temperature. Erik did not mind the piercing feeling of needles from the freezing water at his ankles. His mind was fixated upon Christine's punishment at uttering such a horrible ensemble of words.
When he reached the gate he thrusted her up against the cold iron, his hand still held a firm grip on her neck. Keeping her steady above him, he bent down and felt around at the bottom of the lake, his concentration fixated on finding the object he required. Finally gracing the prop beneath his fingertips, he lifted it out of the water and held it up for Christine to see. Her eyes widened and she began to kick viciously at the sight of Erik's instrument of torture: his Punjab lasso.
He tied her arms to the gate at the level of her eyes and slowly fastened the noose around her swan-like neck. Realizing she was completely helpless at this point, Christine began to whimper her apologies, begging for his mercy and for him to take pity upon her.
"Please! Erik! I did not want to hurt you!"
He gave the rope a slight tug, making her gasp outward for air.
"Unfortunately, Christine, your plan to protect me was not enough to protect yourself," he said menacingly, taunting her with the rope in his hands.
A few tears streaked her face as she tried aimlessly to free her wrists from their binds.
Taking a few deep breaths, he gave the rope a few gentle tugs, not nearly hard enough to tighten the noose but just enough to make her think he was. He threw his head back and roared with laughter at her dismay. How he could easily tease the little angel. Then to add to her fear, he gave a great tug and the noose took shape around her neck. As he backed away, the rope grew tighter and tighter until it dug into her flesh.
He gave the rope a real tug as she screamed for some anonymous person to come to her aid. Easily silencing her wasted attempts, he moved toward her. She cried a little louder as he leaned his face in close to her's.
"You are afraid of me, aren't you, Christine? You fear such a face! Are you afraid of the monstrosity that is my face," he screamed ripping the white porcelain from his face?
With a whimper, pursing her lips in anxiety and turning her head to look away, she nodded.
He merely shrugged. "Tis' natural for an angel to fear a demon. But you chose this, Christine. You gave your soul to me and promised your love. Well, you have not lived up to our bargain, my love," he said pulling away from her, his lips parted in serious emotion. "You only gave me half!" He pulled the rope in his hands a little more and she gave a wail of pain.
"I will miss you, mon ange, for heaven will take you early, but when my time comes, the flaming gates of hell will open."
As his grip on the rope tightened, Christine mustered the strength to scream one more time.
"NO! Please, Erik! Please! I... love you."
He stared at her blankly for a few moments. No. She is lying to you again. She is just trying to convince you to spare her life. Be done with her NOW!
Erik let the rope droop lifelessly in his grasp. "Why do you do it, Christine? Why do you tempt my aching heart with false pleas of devotion such as that? Those three words have been the death of me. I beg of you, do not let them lead you to your end," he said looking at her wildly blinking eyes.
"Please, angel. I have been a fool in the past, and once again I live up to that characteristic. I was foolish to think that keeping that ring would bring Raoul back...but... I now know... those hopes were wasted," she said, trying desperately to hold back her choking sobs.
Erik's eyebrows rose at these words. "And why is that, my dear?"
She sniffled pitifully and stared straight into his tearful, glowing eyes.
"Because... I loved you, angel. I always did. I just wasn't sure... if... if..."-
"If what, Christine," Erik interrupted, taking a step forward.
She gasped for a deep breath and le her head droop down, for it became quite heavy for her neck to support in such a position.
"If... you shared those feelings fo rme," she whispered.
Erik gave a loud "Hah" at the idea.
"My god, Christine! Why do you think I became so jealous of the viscomte! Did you not have the slightest idea when I fought the boy in the cemetery that I was obsessed with you! Honestly you are more blind than-"
But Christine cut him off. "I was not blind, Erik! I was afraid! Afraid that I had the wrong thoughts about you and then I was afraid that you would take Raoul from me! So, rest assured, you made you point very clear, Erik!"
Erik gave her a questioning look. What sort of thoughts had she been having?
"Exactly what thoughts do you speak of, Christine," he said looking up at her with pleading eyes, similar to her own.
She gave a nervous gulp and her Adams apple bulged dangerously.
"I...I wasn't lying when I said I'd imagined our bodies entwining, the night of Don Juan," she whispered dropping her gaze in shame.
Erik gasped in his mind. She had just confessed something sinful. Erotic thoughts and dark dreams of such an angel and he sharing a bed were indeed rare. But he could not be unjust with her. He to shared the blame of naughty imagining.
"I was willing, Erik. I was just afraid that I would be crossing a very rigid line if I went to your bed. But now I realize.. I crossed that line anyway...but willingly," she whispered at his lack of response.
"You would have come tome of your own accord," he asked?
She nodded her reply. "In a heartbeat, angel," she said with a smile that topped her grim situation.
Erik's breathing came out in struggling gasps. What now? How could she love him? He had treated her like a piece of impenetrable plastic and chained her to his gate, ready to take her life at the next mention of the boy's name.
"How can I let you go without knowing you'll stay," he whispered?
She coughed at her lack of air but gave a stuttered answer.
"I go to a priest to ask for forgiveness, Erik. But you may come to me. she said trying to steady her breathing.
The sound of the word forgiveness upon her lips made his legs begin to quake. Finally unable to hold himself up any longer, his knees buckled beneath him and his lower half was secreted beneath the water.
Tears came to his eyes and blinded his vision; his mouth opened for air but released a racking sob.
"I am a monster to ask for such a thing now.Oh, Christine, my love, you have given me your voice and your soul, and yet I still think it is not enough. I am needy for something more. Something of yours that belongs to another."
Christine let a few tears fall. She knew what he was asking for.
"Love," she whispered?
His head jerked up and she looked into her eyes.
"What did you say," he asked in the quietest of tones?
Speaking was becoming very difficult for her now so her words were kept simple but they held her meaning.
"Love, Erik. Love... I truly, deeply, love you," she whispered in an even quieter tone.
His face was a reek at these words. Tears were flowing freely from his eyes and squeaks and sobs were protruding from his lips. He let the rope fall from his grasp and he looked at her trembling form. A surge of fear for his angel spread trough him as he realized the strength of the hold around her neck. He jumped up from is knees and stumbled toward her. Nearing the gate he gave a cry of anguish at his actions and pulled her forehead to his lips, mumbling," Forgive me. Please forgive the stupidity of a lovesick man." Untying her bind on her left wrist she gave a sigh of relief and flexed her fingers. He pulled it toward him quickly and massaged her rash with his lips. "I love you, Angel," she whispered as he kissed down her arm. He smiled and kissed her lips teasingly. "I will never tire of hearing you say that," he said, ignoring the bind on her right arm and turned to the grappling lasso crushing her neck. She gasped in pain as he tried to free its bind but it did not budge. He tried twisting the not but it only seemed to tighten the hold. She gave squeak of discomfort and her face began to redden. "Be patient, mon ange. You will be free in a moment." he said trying to sound calm while his stomach began to churn sudden fear. He tired to pry the not loose by sticking his fingers between the rope and her flesh but there was not enough space for him to reach in. Erik suddenly began to panic as the grip of the rope did not lessen in his attempts. His breath began to quicken and his heartbeat took a faster rhythm. Noticing Erik's fretful expression, she became increasingly nervous.
"Angel," she said anxiously?
At the precise moment Erik's fingernail failed to slip through the space at the nape of her neck, his finger slipped, and his nail sliced a crease in her skin. She gave a cry of pain and she cursed loudly to himself. "MERDE!" (as i've read, this means shit in french)
She whimpered impatiently and bent her neck forward to keep the blood in. Erik gingerly arched her head back and put his lips to the cut. His warm but salty lips singed the cut, making Christine hiss in pain. Erik licked the cut clean and placed a handkerchief to her neck to absorb any blood. I will not let the cursed essence drip all over her. I must work quickly, or the bloodshed will kill her instead of the noose. Oh what have I done?
Erik had Christine hold the hankie in place with her free arm while he set to work again on her neck. He was making little to no progress. Every attempt he made to pull the noose away caused her more pain and he could not work slowly or she would loose too much blood. This was quite a predicament he'd gotten himself into.
Realizing that removing the lasso by hand wasted precious time, he turned to look behind him to see what he could use for leverage. It came to him when his gaze dropped upon the door of his study. He had a knife he had purchased in India that could cut the tail of the rope, disabling the noose's ability to tighten. He could free her other wrist and sit her on the bed while he worked. It was the only way.
He turned back to Christine and terror surged through his mind. Her eyes were bloodshot and her breathing was rugged. He inhaled deeply and gulped nervously. Pulling a fake smile to ease her anxiety, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips lightly. "Hold on for me, mon ange. I will ease your suffering. Just stay awake for me!" He pressed his lips to her cheek and pushed her hand harder against her neck to hold the handkerchief in place. He turned abruptly in the water and ran as best he could to the shore.
However as he ran, he had forgotten that when Christine offered him her forgiveness, he had dropped the rope he used to tease the noose into the water. It now laid at the bottom of the lake, swaying back and forth to the movements Erik's feverish steps made in the misty lagoon. As he made his way to the edge of the lake, he tripped unexpectedly over something at the bottom. Paying it no attention, he pushed onward, his eyes glued to his study door. The rope had been what had made Erik fall so suddenly, and as he was so fixated on getting to the knife to free his beloved, he did not notice that his sudden stumble had entangled the rope with his leg. The tip was caught in the heel of his boot and as he limped on, it slowly wrapped around his ankle. Steadily stomping onward, Erik dragged the rope with him, one end following him while the other was still wrapped around Christine's neck. He noticed that his feet seemed to be dragging behind, but he assumed his pant legs were filling with water and adding weight to his movements.
Christine however was the first to notice the problem. Every time Erik's left foot moved foreword, her neck gave a painful throb. The blood from her cut was flowing uncontrollably and the handkerchief was soaking with the dark red substance. As Erik took his first step on shore she saw that the rope was still entangled with his ankle. He turned to run but the rope reached its end to stretch any further and he stumbled. The force of his pull on the noose caused it to tighten unbearably around her neck. She gave a wail of pain and dropped the kerchief to try and pull the noose from her neck. Blood flowing from her jugular now, she screamed in horror and Erik turned to see her dress soaking with blood.
"ERIK," she wailed outstretching and arm for him.
"NO," he shouted and began to sprint toward his study; he still hadn't noticed the rope around his leg.
ERIK! No! Ange..gak...hic...Erik," she said shrieking for him, but the strangling hold of the Punjab lasso cut off any air needed to speak. Her words became faint whispers and finally her outstretched arm fell to her side, life absorbed from her like the blood on the handkerchief. Her beautiful white gown was now a seductive, deadly red. Her eyes lolled back and she gasped once more in desperation.
"Angel..."
Erik fumbled in his desk for the knife. Finally grasping the holster he dashed out the door, ready to dive back into the lake. As he made his way to the shore he glanced back at Christine. Her lifeless body stood limp against the iron, her dress soaked in her blood. His heart sank in horror as he gazed at the angel at the gate. He pressed his palm this mouth and held back a horrified shriek.
"No...no...no,no,no No," he whispered making his way to her through the water.
When he was within arm's length of her he cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes. Cold. No more warm chocolaty irises; just cold, blank, deathly, white. Her warm, silky skin was clammy and her lips were turning blue. His Angel of Music was now one with the Angel of Death.
He untied her other wrist and literally ripped the noose from her neck. He head swayed dangerously on her shoulders as he carefully helped her down. After moving her hair to swing behind her he pressed her lifeless form to him. He sobbed into her curls and showered her with desperate, pleading kisses.
"No," he whispered through the many kisses upon her face, "Please! Don't leave me! Christine! Christine! Angel!"
He roared in anguish into her chest and began to kiss her neck feverishly. "It's not time yet. Death is a lifetime too early," he sobbed.
He kissed her gently on her forehead and embraced her lovingly.
"I'm sorry, mon ange. Forgive me as you said you would! Forgive me, please!"
He sniffed sadly and pulled her up into his arms. He moved slowly through the lake and made his way to her bedroom. Laying her upon the bed, he pulled the covers over her to keep her warm. He sat next to her and stroked her cheek and curls. How long he sat there embracing her dead body he did not know, nor did he care. It was entirely his fault she could not comfort his sobs and kiss him with her warm, glowing lips. He preached his penitence to her, knowing that her body could not hear him but her heavenly soul could.
After what seemed like hours he stood up and placed one last kiss upon her lips. He treasured it like a prisoner does a last sip of wine.
He crossed the room and picked up the remains of his last Punjab lasso. He scoffed in fury at the murderous device and flung it across the room into a corner of abandoned dresses and corsets of Christine's, knocking over a china angel off her vanity in the process. Tears came to his eyes once more as he gazed upon the glass remains of the sculpture.
"That's the second angel I've destroyed in this dungeon," he sobbed turning to the lifeless beauty upon the bed. He clenched his teeth to keep himself from collapsing in a pool of self hatred and graced the knife on the bedside table. Pulling it from its holster, he turned to his angel and a last tear graced his cheek.
"I destroyed the angel of the light,
It's my turn now the angel of the night."
With a gasp he outstretched the arm holding the dagger and bought it swiftly down into his flesh. The blood spread quickly and he collapsed on the floor in weakness. He pulled his trembling, shivering body onto the bed and lye beside Christine. His blood stained the sheets permanently and he fell face foreword upon the pillow. Gasping for air, he looked over at Christine and whispered, "Goodbye, angel, for I fear I will not meet you in heaven."
He gasped as a surge of pain overtook his body and his head sank slowly deeper into the pillow. The two Angels had been claimed by two different fates, but they can still be seen, lying together, hand in hand upon the bed. Separated by two worlds, but joined again in their love of music and for each other.
FIN