Mean wasn't I? Bet you all are ready to kill me huh?
Later that night Mme. Giry walked up the cold tunnel to the opera house. Poppy was still not looking any better. She looked pasty and was cold to the touch, barely breathing. After Erik had taken care of her head, they both piled the blankets on her. Antoinette had wanted to go fetch a doctor, but Erik told her that a doctor would make it worse, not better. She sighed, but knew he was right. When Mme. Giry left, Erik had pulled a chair up beside Poppy's bed, took her hand in his, and just set there, waiting for her to move. Antoinette had put a hand on his shoulder, feeling for him, but he didn't acknowledge it.
Walking to her room, Antoinette was met by her daughter.
"Mother?"
"Yes?" Mme. Giry sighed.
"Where are Mademoiselle Poppy and Monsieur Leroux? They did not show for the afternoon call. Monsieur Reyer and Monsieur Dufour both have been asking for them," Meg inquired.
Mme. Giry didn't need the news to be spread yet, "They are busy with some other business. You need to get to bed. Now go!"
Meg looked questionly at her but hurried off to the dorms. Mme. Giry sighed. Walking into her room she fingered her crucifix that she kept in her pocket. Erik hated the sight of them, so she never wore it in his presence. He had always mocked people and their beliefs, but he will need to do some praying his self for a miracle. For a miracle is the only thing that can save Poppy.
XXX
Erik held Poppy's cold hand. He could see her barely breathing. He was truly worried. He was great in curing almost any illness or physical injury. He had to be. No one else had taken care of him, hence, he had to learn it his self. But in all his years of seeing and inflicting injuries, Erik had never seen one with a head injury such as Poppy had and still live. If he lost her, he wouldn't know what to do. As he rubbed her cold hand, he felt the cold metal of the ring he had given her the night of Don Juan. The night he asked her to marry him. The night she had agreed. Because she loved him. Tears dripped onto his and Poppy's hand. He began to do something he never thought he would do. He began to pray.
"I know I have always denied You. Never had I prayed to You. But now I'm praying. Please God…please…help Poppy. If it were I, I wouldn't be worth saving. But it is she here. She has gone though so much, she is worth saving. I love her. Please…help her." Erik choked out the last words, a sob catching in his throat.
XXX
Over the next week, the Opera House slowed down to a tick. Mme. Giry had Reyer to run it. He hated doing it, so he had the orchestra to practice on their own, as he worked with Carlota and Piangi. They both were sounding much better. Carlota would want to slip back in her old diva routine, but Mme. Giry and Reyer would remind her about Erik.
Everyone now knew about Poppy. They all were praying and were worried. Mme. Giry would take the daily trip down to the lair to check on Erik and Poppy. Erik almost never left her side. Antoinette would bring food and force Erik to eat. In turn, they both forced broth down Poppy's throat. Poppy was not looking good. She remanded unconscious. She was growing whiter and stayed cold. Her once ruby red hair shone, but now it was thin and dull, as her body grew thin. Erik was not looking any better. He had grown thinner as well.
One day Mme. Giry finally forced Erik away from Poppy for a while. As she brushed Poppy's thin hair, she talked to her.
"Come back Poppy. Come back. If you could only see how much Erik needs you. Every day that you lie here, Erik slowly dies. Please come back cherie."
Je n'aiaucun mot. I'm sorry, but I have reason for doing this. But, don't worry all ends well.
