Chapter 14

Hm, I had a thought, I'm in Melbourne tomorrow with my Dad, I get to see the Dutch Masters Gallery exhebition! YAY! So i probably wont be able to post tomorrows tomorrow, so here it is today (If that makes ny sense). Here we see Erik as he comes across to me as (apart from the end,it gets a little sappy, though that could just be my sickly sweet writing at that point.) Anywhoo, enjoy!

Phantomchild199: I knew there was someone i forgot last chapter! My most sincere apologies! And did you know pancakes are very good at quieting Phantoms?

Turn the other cheek

Erik shut the door to his study and crossed to a small freestanding cabinet. Opening the intricately carved doors, he pulled out a battered silver tin, nestled within lay a tiny brown bottle and a syringe. The Phantom slunk to the deep leather smoker's chair and sank in with a cavernous sigh. Shrugging out of his dress coat, he pulled his shirtsleeve up to reveal a mix of fading bruises.

A knock sounded at the door, and Erik jumped,

"Leave me alone!" he growled, naturally, the door was opened.

Adriana took in the sight of Erik, needle pressed against his skin, ready to inject. She glanced at his face, flushed with shame and anger.

"Morphine, Erik?" she asked with a sigh, closing the door and rustling over to him. If his mind hadn't been in such a daze over Christine and being disturbed, he might have noticed that she looked very pretty in a gown of dark rose, pinned and pleated and touched here and there with lace and ribbon flowers. Unfortunately for both of them, he was only concentrating on the fact that she had entered his private study without permission (Did the girl leave nothing alone?).

"Tell me, my dear, do you know the meaning of the word privacy?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I do actually," she replied, picking up the bottle, she shook her head. "You don't need this stuff Erik," she tried to take the needle from his fingers but he resisted lividly.

"Who are you to dictate what it is that I do?" he shouted, leaping up.

"I'm trying to be your friend," she stated angrily, "And this stuff will kill you!" She shook the bottle in his face (or should that be in his mask?) "I know what happens to addicts. The first hit is fine, great even, but then you need more, and more. Stronger, more frequently, until you get so addicted that your hands don't stop shaking and your throat becomes so ravaged that the only thing that ever made your life bearable is beyond your grasp."

"Shut up!" Erik dropped the syringe and shot out one lean and unnaturally strong arm to strike Adriana on the face. The bottle went flying and smashed on the cold stone floor, sending shards of glass and liquid morphine splashing onto the rich Persian rug. Adriana reeled back with the force of his blow. She stumbled against a bookshelf filled with large leather volumes, and stared up at Erik, clutching the mahogany furnishings. His slap had shaken her silky hair loose from its few pins and her grey green eyes looked up at him through a haze of gold threads falling across her shoulders and the red bruising already appearing on her cheek. Erik's muscles were knotted in fury as he stalked towards her.

"I let you stay with me, I let you take liberties with me I would not even given to her, I sheltered, protected and clothed you! And now you have the gall to simply waltz in here without my permission and casually whisk away one of the few pleasures my miserable existence can afford me?" Veins were standing out on his neck and Adriana had a sudden vision of Red Death towering over her. With an effort she pushed herself away from the wall and stood to face him. Chest heaving within her corset and with hurt flickering in her eyes, she deliberately turned her head so that he could see her other cheek.

"Hit me again," she said clearly. Erik took a confused step backwards and she followed up on her advantage.

"Hit me black and blue if you will monsieur, lock me in your torture room and starve me until I waste away to nothing and I will bear it if that is what it takes to break you of your addiction." She tilted her chin up, offering him the optimum place to strike her. "You are worth more than a few hits of morphine Erik, don't waste your talent on something that will ruin your life."

Her simple declaration of his worth, and what she would do for him, struck something deep in Erik and he stared at her in shock. All at once he wanted to both Punjab and wage passionate love on the rose dressed maiden with her pale check offered, standing before him. Instead, he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands, beginning to weep.

Adriana knelt beside him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Come, Erik," she whispered, "To bed."

With a rustle of silk she guided the stumbling Phantom to his room. When she saw the ornate coffin she frowned, "I like Dracula just as much as the nextDBCAian but that's taking it a little too far," she murmured. Gently she led him to her own room and laid him down on her bed. He curled away from her, still shaking with sobs, so she stroked his back with tender fingers until his breathing slowed. When she was sure he was asleep, Adriana rose and left to see about removing every scrap of morphine from the house by the lake.