36) Or do you still wait for me?

Erik stared at the girl next to him, and a shiver ran down Christine´s spine. Looking at him when he wore this mask wasn´t easy; it didn´t reveal the expression on his face at all. She felt the mad urge to rip it off. Of course she still wouldn´t know what he was thinking then, but at least she´d be able to predict his reaction a little.

Yet since this wasn´t an option she was willing to take she tried to get a response in the only way possible: Asking for it. "Say something, Erik!", she whispered pleadingly. He kept staring at her. She had no idea whether he hadn´t heard her or simply chose not to reply. A few minutes passed, and still the only sounds were Christine´s rapid breathing and the regular ticking of the grandfather clock.

When she had almost given up hope that he´d ever speak he finally did it. "You told me once that you didn´t love me.", he said, his voice hollow and so unlike his usual one that the girl´s gaze involuntarily wandered to his mouth to be certain it really were his words. "I lied.", she admitted. "It was the first time I lied to you, and I wish there had been another possibility. But there wasn´t."

"And why?", he asked in the same strange voice. Christine started trembling. She couldn´t help thinking that it would have been better to be shouted or laughed at. "I wanted you to be happy.", she whispered. "I didn´t want to bother you with these feelings – something you couldn´t have influenced anyway." After a moment´s consideration she went on: "But that´s only part of the reason. I didn´t want you to reject me. As long as you didn´t explicitly do so, some crazy fraction of my mind still hoped you´d decide in favour of me one day.".

Suddenly unable to look at her Erik turned his head away in an abrupt movement. "Sometimes ignorance is merciful.", he muttered. He didn´t know why the situation reminded him of his mother. If she hadn´t shown him his face, would he have grown up as a happier boy? Or would the shock have been even bigger when he´d have looked into the mirror some years later? Shaking his head he pushed the thoughts away. There was something more important now, something he had to use all his strength for.

"I shouldn´t have told you.", Christine said, her voice full of barely suppressed tears. "It was selfish of me. But I couldn´t hold it back any longer. Do you have any idea how hard it was to take you into my arms and comfort you as a friend? To resist the temptation of bringing my lips to yours and offering my body to you as a very special way of consolation?"

Erik felt like covering his ears with his hands and sing loudly to keep himself from hearing what she said. Her words filled him with something he had always hated: helplessness. What could he do without making both of them miserable? And there were not just the two of them. What about Meg and the Vicomte? He felt as if he had landed in one of his own traps and didn´t find a way out. His whole body tensed, a sign of the pressure he was under.

The hand holding the glass shook violently, but as it was empty nothing spilled onto the carpet. The girl shyly stretched out her arm and touched his wrist in a fruitless attempt to make him calm down. This little contact between her and his skin was too much for him to bear. There was a sickening sound, then they both stared incredulously at Erik´s hand. He had broken the delicate glass in his fist.

Drops of blood were oozing out of several fine cuts on his palm. He opened his fist, and most pieces of glass fell onto his trousers and the carpet. Yet one of them remained where it was. It had slit the skin right under the base of his thumb and got stuck there. Erik looked at it in morbid fascination. Only when the shock wore off a few seconds later did he feel the pain and gasped for breath.

"Oh…", Christine made faintly. "I´m so sorry, Erik. You hurt yourself because of me. I need to fetch you a bandage… a salve… something to stop the pain… and also a pair of tweezers!" Muttering this she tried to stand up, but she was held back by Erik, who used his other arm as a barrier. "You won´t do any of the things.", he said sternly. He was aware of her aversion of blood, and judging by her pale face she´d probably pass out if she looked at his wounds for a longer time than she already had. Besides, he had enough experience with injuries to know that these weren´t very serious ones.

But for Christine those intentions were not clear. She interpreted the situation in an entirely different way. "So you don´t even allow me to touch you anymore?", she asked bitterly. ""Don´t worry – my love for you is not contagious. Even if I helped you with your hand, you´d still love Meg… whether she likes it or not. You don´t want me, so I´ll better leave." "You cannot leave.", Erik reminded her with an annoying rationality. "You can´t walk more than a few steps by yourself." By now he had found a handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket and pressed it against his palm. He winced. Concentrating on Christine he had forgotten that one piece of glass had yet to be removed.

"Now I really have to get a pair of tweezers.", he mumbled to himself. "I wonder where they are. In the bathroom, perhaps? Or in the kitchen?" Determined not to look at the girl he held his hand closer to the candelabra to examine the deeper cut thoroughly with a little more light. The piece of glass really seemed to have wandered under the skin; just a small part was still visible.

He interrupted his task when a door snapped shut. Only then he noticed that Christine was gone. Apparently she had used the time to limp into Meg´s room, even though it must have hurt her very much. Erik looked from his hand to the door and back, sighing. What should he do first?