Chapter 12
I take in a deep breath and slowly release it.
Raoul takes me in as close as he can, "You don't have to tell me."
"You have the right to know," I point out.
He kisses my head and I begin, "When I was a child my mother never loved me, or she never showed it if she really did. She would always yell at me when I had no idea what I had done wrong, and she would never let me go anywhere except for my room without wearing a mask that she made me. The mask, though, really hurt, and so I tried not to wear it, but I was only punished for disobeying. One day my mother was fed up with me asking why I couldn't wear a mask and she dragged me into her room, the only room with a mirror and showed me my face. I panicked and broke the mirror. I thought it had been a monster, but eventually I realized what a mirror was, and I realized that the monster was me. A while later I ran away from home, and I never looked back.
"I was found by gypsies. There was a clan of them. They took me in and threw me in a cage. They forced me to wear a makeshift mask and they were always testing me, torturing me. The little kids would throw rocks at me, and poke me with sticks until a bled. I wanted to fight back, but if I did the master gypsy whipped me. That's where the scars came from. They not only whipped me, they starved me, and that's where my low appetite comes in. I lost my appetite there, I couldn't bear to eat. When I did, I could barely hold it down, and sometimes they would whip me after I ate, and I would retch in front of them. They just laughed. Then Madame Giry came, though she certainly was much younger then, and she got me out of there. I still have not found a way to repay her," I stop the tears that threaten to fall.
Raoul lightly kisses my forehead, and I can feel his tears brush my skin. I look up into his eyes, which are red from crying, and I quickly kiss his lips in the hopes of calming him.
Then he surprises me, "And where does that garden come into play?"
I look away, "That garden was the one thing that I could see from my window in my room in the attic. I always used to imagine myself out in there, since I wasn't allowed out there much. It was the one place I could go to forget that the only reason my own mother would touch this monster was to punish me."
"You're not a monster," he whispers.
"Raoul," I start, "when my own mother showed me my face, I screamed and broke the mirror, afraid that the monster I saw was coming to get me. Now I see that there was never a monster, only me."
He pulls me closer to him and I can feel his heat pulsing around me, his aura engulfing me. His tears have slowed and I feel his arms wrap around my back, holding my stomach to his, my chest to his. I kiss him, hard, on the lips, allowing myself to open my mouth and suck on his lower lip, tasting him, smelling him, touching him. He does not fear me, and I have no fear anymore.
He pulls back and I quickly start to kiss down his jaw line and then his neck.
Then he rolls me onto my back and pins me. My fear returns.
"Raoul?" my voice comes out slightly sounding of betrayal.
"I want to help you, Erik," he whispers, dropping his face to speak into my ear, "only help. Tell me to stop and I will."
The thought comforts me, but not much. I can not see his intentions. I'm blinded by my love.
He gently moves his lips to mine, kissing me in what could be considered a caress. He softly moves his lips over mine, his legs spread to straddle my hips. I'm a little frightened by his sudden confidence, but my head has been lost to a haze of ecstasy, throwing care to the side.
I moan as he presses his tongue into my mouth, searching me in a hungry manner. A moan answers mine, resonating from deep within his throat.
I smile as I feel his hands move to my chest, but then worry as he starts to unbutton my shirt. He pulls back slightly, allowing me to see his hands at work.
"Raoul…" my voice trails.
He instantly snaps back, "Do you want me to stop?"
"In all sincerity, no," I answer. Best to stay truthful.
He smiles, but then a thought hits him, "I won't hurt you, Erik."
True, this would hurt. Things are not meant to be this way, but I'm not afraid, "Don't worry, Raoul, I'll be fine."
He frowns, "Erik."
I smile up at him and kiss his lips, "There is nothing that you could do to hurt me, except if you were to stop loving me."
"I do love you," he protests.
"Show me," I challenge.
The kiss he claims me in shows nothing less than passion and love. I let him open my shirt and I feel his lips travel down lower to my neck and then to my stomach.
RAOUL POV
I let my tongue flick out against his skin every once in a while, tasting him. I bite at some of his sensitive skin and I can feel the shiver that shoots down his spine. Smiling, I move back to face him and a whimper forms in his throat and reaches me in seconds. I kiss his lips lightly and then take his hands, leading them to remove my own shirt.
He smiles at then takes over, his own seductive nature kicking in. This man has a seductive aura without much question, and in taking off my shirt alone it shows. His hands move agonizingly slow and careful, making sure I feel the compassion in the gesture. Sliding my shirt off my arms, he quickly tosses the unwanted garment aside and shrugs off his own, doing the same.
I smile as his hands move to rest lightly on my back as I slowly peel his pants away from him. He moans as I accidentally brush him and I instantly feel my own arousal grow, the heat in my groin unbearable. He seems to sense this, and the moment that I shed him of the rest of his clothes, he instantly returns the favor. I smile and kiss him, then pull back, taking in the full of his form in the dim lighting, as he does the same to me.
ERIK POV
I look at Raoul and marvel at his form. I know that he has seen me without clothes, I know that he has tried to be modest about that as well, but let's face it, you can't be modest about dressing someone when they're unconscious. I smile and let my hands rest on his hips, and start to pull myself up. He helps me sit and instantly I press my hips into his.
A moan escapes his throat and I allow myself to kiss his neck, and then bite. I bite hard enough to bruise, but low enough to hide it. He hands move to my back and caress my scars. I don't care.
I let my hands pull my further to him, until there is no space between him and myself. Our breathing becomes ragged and our sweat mingles.
RAOUL POV
Finally, he knows that this can go on no longer, and the evidence is not that difficult to notice. He slowly moves to lay on his stomach and I stop.
I can't hurt him.
I can't do this.
"Erik," I plead, "this won't work. It'll hurt you."
"I don't care," he turns to me.
"Please, do you have anything to make this any easier? If nothing else, something to make this less painful for you," I allow my hands to travel down his exposed back.
He nods and takes moves to take a small thing of skin lotion out of the top drawer. It's not much, but it will do.
I take it from him and quickly apply it, finding myself closer and closer to release.
Finally I have no other choice. I hold him and comfort him before driving hard into him. He screams in pain and I quickly stop.
"Erik," I start, "I won't do this."
"It's already done," he answers, "now the painful part is over, don't worry."
ERIK POV
As he nods against my back and starts his rhythm, I realize the painful part was not over, but I bite back the pain and soon I am swimming in ecstasy once more.
Finally we climax and I feel my body release as his releases into mine.
Afterwards he makes sure he does not collapse on top of me, as he falls to my side on the bed. I smile and pull him toward me, not caring how messy this was. I smile and kiss his forehead shakily as he comes out of his own haze of ecstasy.
Slowly I watch as he falls asleep in silence, and slowly I join him myself.
Chapter 13
RAOUL POV
I wake up and look down to see Erik with his head on my stomach, still fast asleep. I've never woken up before him. I worry a little, but decide to let him sleep, we were both worn out after last night.
I lightly run my fingers through his hair and he makes small, throaty, noises in his sleep before falling back into his own dreams, turning away from me and moving back to his pillow. I smile and give up trying to comfort him, seeing as how that just disturbs his sleep.
I sit up and decide to wash up. Moving very stiffly out of the bed, I look back and notice the blood. There is a large puddle of mostly dried blood in the middle of the bed. I didn't realize he was bleeding last night.
Gently, I take the sheets and pull them back. I see that the blood has stopped flowing, but it is still a serious matter. He has already lost so much blood, he can't afford to lose any more, if there's any more left to lose. There has to be, though, he's still alive.
I go into the bathroom and quickly wash myself off, before heading back into the room. He's still asleep. I look at the clock, and see that it's almost noon. Erik never sleeps this late. I start to worry.
I look and see his bandages are soaked in blood, but from the outside in. That's a little bit of comfort. I go and quickly bring back some wet cloths and gently clean him off, before setting him in a little nest of clean sheets that I made on the floor, and removing the sheets from last night.
Then I quickly make the bed and recover my still sleeping angel.
I lightly take the bandages off and leave them off, disposing of the soiled bandages and letting the wounds breathe.
I lightly kiss his forehead before writing a note and dashing off to find Madame Giry. She is the only one that I know that can handle this sort of blood loss.
MADAME GIRY POV
Just returning from a practice, I watch as Meg sits on her bed and stretches out, quickly falling asleep. Today had been a trying practice, we just started a new play with many ballet moves, since the managers insist on having many dancing girls. Poor Meg is one of the few who knows the steps, and had to redo scenes that she already could do perfectly again and again just because the others couldn't. I move to her side and lightly pet her hair as she sleeps.
Then a voice breaks through the silence, "Madame?"
I look toward the mirror. It had come from that direction, but it wasn't Erik.
"Come in, Monsieur," I watch as Raoul enters the room.
He gasps for breath, clearly having run the entire way here. He composes himself and finally manages to speak, "Erik, he's hurt, worse."
"How?" I manage to get him to sit in a seat.
He falters, "He had a rough night. He bled, a lot. I didn't notice though, until this morning. He was sleeping while he bled, and he hasn't woken up this morning."
Though I don't really believe him, I have to trust him, "I will go to him, Monsieur, just let me write a note to Meg."
He nods and watches as I frantically write a quick note to my daughter and then motion for him to follow me back to Erik.
I move at a fairly quick pace, but nothing is fast enough for him. He really does love Erik. Maybe Erik will finally be getting his chance at a better life, getting his chance to find love.
He shows me back into the room where Erik rests, his unconscious form seemingly very peaceful. I move to his side and remove his bandages on his wrists carefully, examining them. They have healed nicely, no signs of recent bleeding at all. I'm not being told something, and I want to know what.
"Monsieur, there is no sign of recent bleeding here," I comment.
He looks at me in confusion and fear, "There was blood, lots of it, just this morning…"
I nod, "Yes, he shows signs of blood loss, just not from his wrists."
He looks at Erik and kisses his forehead, then whispers, "I love him, Madame."
I smile in understanding, "Yes, and you must be worried sick."
He looks to me and I wink, then he adds, "Yes, terribly, is there anything we can do?"
I smile, "Wait for him to wake up, they'll hurt him terribly, from the looks of things he lost a fair amount of blood. Just keep him comfortable, as always… I'm afraid there is little more that can be done."
He nods, but his voice sounds hopeless and helpless, "Alright, thank you."
"I must return to Meg, but if you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask," I quickly turn and leave without another word.
So Erik and Raoul have proved their love. Fair enough. They can not be married, so there is nothing wrong with this, I don't think. Though this is quite a leap from what my hopes had been, Erik is, indeed getting to know a better life.
RAOUL POV
I watch as Madame Giry leaves and I then turn back to my angel.
I gently move some hair out of his face and as I do, his face follows my hand, leaning toward my touch.
"Erik?" I whisper, not knowing how sensitive he will be.
He moans and opens one eye, looking at me, and smiles, "Good morning."
"More like good afternoon," I comment, "How do you feel?"
"Weak. Tired. Wonderful," the last word seems to wrap around me in a sort of embrace.
I gently caress his face, removing the mask that I had placed on his face in modesty for when Madame Giry came. I set the lifeless thing aside, and let my fingers lightly run along his marred skin. He doesn't even flinch anymore when I do this, when just yesterday he would have. I can't tell if this is a sudden change of heart or a sign of exhaustion. I hope it's the former.
"Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" I ask, taking his hand in mine.
He nods, but then stops, "I don't know…"
I squeeze his hand, "What is it? I'm sure I can do it, there's no harm in asking."
"In my room, there are some pain killers on the desk by my… bed… can you get them for me?" the way he said "bed" made it seem like it was a bad thing.
I instantly respond, "Of course!"
Walking wearily back toward the darkness that has been described as Erik's room, I find a lump forming in my throat. Why would my angel seem so nervous about me seeing his room? Is there something in there that he wishes to hide? What could he want to hide from me?
Slowly opening the door, I look in through and shrug off my silliness. I panicked for nothing, it's just a room. I must admit, though, that it is rather unconventional with its pitch-black walls and colorful paintings. I turn and see a painting right by me. I look for an artist's name. There is none.
That's odd. Most artists at least leave a signature.
I then look down and see a small booklet, the size of a diary. I pick it up and open it. It holds poetry that my angel has written. I slip the book into my pocket.
Then I look away from the wall that I face, and the horror strikes me. There is a coffin, with a red canopy above it. Next to it was a desk. Was this my angel's "bed"? No. No, it couldn't be! My angel!
I walk numbly over to stand next to it and I lightly let my hands run along the top, then open it. Inside there is a pillow and a thin silk blanket. This is my angel's bed…
I turn and unconsciously pick up the painkillers, walking back out, careful to shut the door behind me. Seeing the worried expression on Erik's face means nothing to me as I walk to his side and hold out my hand.
My voice is choked, "Are these the ones?"
He nods, "Yes, thank you."
I nod and turn, offering, "Would you like some water to take them with?"
"No," he takes my hand, "these are herbal, they go down easily."
I continue with my numbness as I sit down next to him on the bed.
He swallows two painkillers and then wraps an arm around my waist, "I know it's not the easiest thing to see, my room, but thank you."
At this I laugh, "You think? Not the easiest thing to look at? Try the worst thing I've seen in my life. Erik, you sleep in a coffin!"
He gives me a hurt expression, "I thought you would be the one… the one that could accept me for the way that I live."
I look at him and my emotions come flooding back, first sadness, for him, then anger, at myself. I drop to his side, my knees on the floor, so that I can face him properly.
"My angel," I whisper, as I pull his shaking form to me, "please, do not cry."
"You are the one…" his voice trails, "I knew it."
"Yes," I whisper.
He smiles and I ask, "Were those paintings in your room yours as well?"
"Yes," he backs away again, "but they are nothing I am proud of."
"They're wonderful," I comment.
He snorts, "You don't know what real art is then."
"Yes I do," I counter, "it's an expression of someone's inner thoughts and feelings."
He smiles, "Ever the expert."
I laugh and so does he. This is something that I could get used to. Our laughter.
Chapter 14
Bending down, I am suddenly reminded of the book in my pocket. I lean back and reach down, taking it out and moving to hand it to him. He quickly snatches it from me.
"I thought you would want it," I comment.
"Yes, I want it," he laughs, "I want it to burn. These are poems that came from deep within me, but my feelings have changed now, thanks to you…"
I smile and reach for the book, which he allows me to take. Opening it, I read the last entry, which I read aloud:
My Breaking HeartUp here I feel again, the wind against my face,
Running, climbing, jumping, all at lightning pace.
Cape billowing, my angelic wings,
The Angel of Death, killing beautiful things.
Not by physical death, but by use of cage,
My voice is strong, I am a mage.
I hear your voices start to entwine,
No birds around me dare to whine.
My love, my voice,
You've made your choice.
And now your angelic voice chooses to part
You and me. My breaking heart.
Thoughts racing through my head,
Wishing he or I were dead.
My vision blurs deep shades of red,
The color of blood, the color of dread.
Tear out my heart, rip and shred,
Lay me in a coffin bed.
My love, my voice,
You've made your choice.
And now your angelic voice chooses to part
You and me. My breaking heart!
Standing here, I let no tears fall
As I build my defense: a wall.
Not one to keep you out, but instead me in,
The more I watch, the less it's thin.
I lean over the edge and look below,
Watching the river of people flow.
Not one gives me a passing glance,
I'm the Angel of Death with no second chance.
My love, my voice,
You've made your choice.
And now your angelic voice chooses to part
You and me. My breaking heart.
My angel, my voice,
I hear your choice!
My angel has chosen to depart,
Leaving me and my breaking heart.
It ends and I look to Erik, only to see him crying.
"These were about Christine," I point out. I don't need to question, I can tell.
"Yes, but I have not written in there for a very long time. Not since the roof," he lowers his head as he adds the last part.
"The roof? You were there?" I sit up on the bed once more.
He nods ashamedly, "I heard everything, I saw everything."
Lifting him into a sitting position, I place him in my lap, facing me, and I quickly smother his lips in a kiss. He moans and starts to kiss me in return and lightly running his fingers through my hair. I move my hands to his cheeks and lightly rub his right cheek with my thumb, massaging the deformed flesh. He starts to pull back, but I move my left hand behind his neck, hold him close. He complies and we continue the kiss, more passionately than before.
I lightly start to rub his back and he moves deeper into my lap, using his hands to support himself.
I lean back and look at him in surprise, "Erik, your wrists… be careful… please…"
He smiles and brings his wrists up, letting them rest against our laps, "There, you see, Raoul? No more pressure."
I give him a still disapproving look and he shrugs and climbs out of my lap, not using his wrists this time. I smile and he picks up the book of poems.
"Erik, please, forget those if they hurt you," I whisper.
He shakes his head, "They don't hurt me."
"They hurt me," I add, sadly.
He looks up, "Why?"
"The Angel of Death?"
"I'm condemned, Raoul, condemned to the depths of Hell."
"That's not true!"
"How would you know?" the raise in his voice and the heat in his eyes almost scares me. Almost.
I rest a hand over his, "Because, Erik, everyone can be forgiven. They just have to believe, and pray."
"I lost my belief in God long ago, Raoul, and I do BELIEVE that it is NOT going to return."
I kiss his cheek, "Just think about what I said, please?"
He nods and I smile, pulling him closer and kissing him lightly on the lips. I pull back and he tosses the book aside, my smile widening.
"Would you like something to eat, my Angel of Music?" I ask.
"Yes, thank you, mon ange," the words roll on his tongue and slip wistfully out of his mouth.
"Anything in particular?" I question.
He shakes his head. I move into the kitchen and look around, there aren't many things that I can choose from, some bread and fruit seems to be the most. I make the most out of it, starting a small fire on his makeshift burner and toasting the bread, spreading a light layer of jam on it, and surrounding it in fruit. Putting it all on a small tray, along with the only drink I can find: wine. Carefully balancing the tray, I walk into the room and set it in front of him.
He smiles at me, wide and pure and I smile back.
"You can have something to eat, as well, my love," he comments.
I shake my head, "This is for you."
"Then it is mine to share, and I insist on sharing it with you," he hands me an apple.
I laugh and take it, "You are one to always get your way, aren't you?"
He grins, "Yes, yes I am."
I take a bite out of the apple, and try to keep my mouth closed as a yawn forces it's way out of me.
He looks at me in mild concern, "Are you tired, Raoul?"
I shake my head, though in all sincerity I am exhausted.
He lightly takes my hand, "Are you sure?"
I nod, and he finishes his meal in silence.
I take the dirty tray into the kitchen, but find no strength to wash it, so I leave it for later.
Returning to Erik's side, I see he has moved into the chair that I have been sitting in, and has left the bed empty.
"Lay down, Raoul, rest. I'll be okay for a couple of hours," he motions to the bed.
I gladly comply, "Thank you."
I dare not ask how he made it into the chair, as I slowly lie down, and fall into an oblivion of sleep.
Chapter 15
ERIK POV
I wait until I am sure that Raoul is asleep to move again. Reaching out, I take a page that I tore out of the book with my poems and I write a quick note to my love.
Raoul,
Please do not be alarmed. Madame Giry came to help me out into her room so that she could check my wrists' progress without the threat of waking you up. I would ask that you do not panic, but also beg that you do not follow. I love you, and I trust you.
Erik
I gently lean down and kiss his cheek before laying the note next to him and standing. Yes, standing. I have learned recently that my energy has been regained and that my wrists feel just fine. The blood that I lost was a fair amount, but nothing like what I lost from my wrists.
I look to my angel once more before leaving to go to my own room. Finding nothing else touched by my angel, except for my coffin, which I expected, I smile and grab my traveling cloak and a wig and mask. Placing the wig on my head and the mask on my face, I throw the cloak on and move out of my house with the grace of a ghost: silent and quick.
Once on the main street, I smile at the fact that the moon has risen to a fair height, casting a silver shadow over the black night.
I look to my left and move to my right, used to moving through the sometimes-treacherous streets of nighttime Paris.
A woman comes up to me, scantily dressed, and with a faint smell of liquor swimming around her. A whore.
She speaks to me with a slight slur, "Hey there, looking for a thrill?"
I roll my eyes, "I hardly need any thrill that you could give me."
She persists, rubbing against me, "Hey now, everyone deserves a treat every once in a while."
I hold back laughter and push her aside, "I do not want or need anything you could give me."
"Fine!" she yells and as she turns her back I hear her mumbling, "Someone like you shouldn't be out at this time of night."
I rub the back of my neck in frustration as I reach my first destination.
Walking into the store, the owner glances at me and quickly gasps.
I smile. He recognized me.
"The usual?" he questions, his voice shaking.
"No, more than that. Three times what I normally get," I flash a large wad of francs.
His voice quickly calms, "That's a nice amount there."
I smile and hand him the money and walk out.
In the doorway I turn so that only my masks shows, "The normal place, one hour."
"Of course," there is even a smile in his voice.
I leave and shake my head. The things people will do and the people that they'll deal with just to support their families. I wonder if he even has a family. I realize I don't care.
The rest of the stops are the same: three time more than the usual. Everything has to be big, everything has to be perfect.
As I wait in the usual place, I write a second note, on much better parchment.
This will, indeed, be perfect. I know it.