Disclaimer: No, I do not own Phantom

Chapter 4

The next morning I woke up in such a terrible agony. The many lashes on my back stung with remembrance of the day before. Perhaps the pain wasn't all from the physical punishment but from my mental state as well.

After much moaning and groaning, I succeeded in raising myself from the bed. I went to the bathroom and straightened out my hair, making it neater than it was before, and I left my room.

I could smell eggs frying from the kitchen and I assumed Erik was in there. So I followed the smell to the kitchen, walking cautiously so as not to hurt myself.

Hard as I tried, I could never be quiet enough because no matter what, Erik always heard me approaching him.

"Hello Roxanne, good morning." He said, his back to me.

"Good morning." I said back.

He put a fried egg on a plate and put it in front of me and handed me a fork.

"How is your back?" He asked while sitting down across from me.

"Painful, but at least I'm alive." Erik put his hand to his chin.

"Amazing, that someone who has gone through so much torture, can still appreciate living and want to continue."

"I guess you could say I had a revelation."

"How so?"

"Last night, I thought of this poem that I once read in my books. It goes like this:

Faintly I smell the color,

Faintly I see the love.

Faintly I wish to be in it.

It's something I was void of."

He joined in.

"'Paint it over' she told me.

'Paint it with love'

Now I sit, painting it over.

I paint my life over." We finished in unison. I smiled and I could feel that we both had an understanding.

"It's a beautiful poem," he said.

"I used to think of it a lot, hoping that somehow my life would get better if I tried to make it like that." I sighed and took a bite of my egg.

"Try."

"I will, someday, everything will be just the way I want it.

"I'm sure it will be." He said, his voice carrying a kind message.

"Why do you treat me so well?" I asked.

"Because you're a naïve babe." He said without a hint of humor. I pouted. And he laughed. It wasn't a loud laugh, just a quiet one. It was the first one I had ever heard out of him. It was almost nice to see that he had this side as well.

About a week passed, this time without any hallucinations or fits of panic.

Erik had shown me his library and allowed me access to it whenever I felt the need, which happened to be quite often. As Erik soon learned, I was quite eager to learn. Because my books at home were limited to basic subjects, I took a pleasure in learning the more eccentric ones.

As for Erik, his disposition toward me had changed slightly. The only noticeable change was that he now referred as me "ma biche" that could be translated as "my doe." I had often heard my father and mother refer to my sister as their "petit chou," little cabbage, another French term of endearment.

To me these names were unfamiliar. But not unwelcome. I assumed that maybe we were friends. And I liked the thought. Friends. Something I had been deprived of ever since I was born.

"Ma biche? Are you hungry?" He asked one day while I was reading in the library. I looked up.

"Yes, Erik." I said and closed my book.

"Come on then," He said and we went into his kitchen..

He had already set up a place at the table with some bread and jam. He gave me my first taste of jam when I came here. My parents refused to waste good food on me, of course I wouldn't know the difference, I was insane.

I bit into the bread with raspberry jam smeared on top.

"Are you enjoying it, ma biche?"

"Yes, it's delicious." I took another bite. "Erik, are we," I hesitated, "friends?"

He thought a moment. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course,"

"Why is it that you live all alone? You've been so kind to me and I can't understand why anyone wouldn't want to be around you."

He stayed quiet. I wondered if I had said something wrong again. "Roxanne…you see, I think you know who I am." I was confused. "I am the Opera Ghost, you know this, right? I'm not going to pretend to be who I'm not. I do that for nobody. So I will tell the truth. I'm sure you also know that I'm a murderer." I did know this, but to hear him confirm it in his own words brought a reality to it.

"I don't want to scare you and I would never harm you; no matter how angry I get, no matter how much I yell, I wouldn't hurt you. I'll try to control my temper as best I can so as not to frighten you, you've seen too much yelling and anger. I got there just in time to watch your father finish beating you. But I couldn't kill him, much as I felt the urge. That's because if your family came and found him dead and you gone, they would assume that you had done it.

"As for one of the primary reasons…I'll tell you eventually, I'm not sure if I'm ready to say yet so I'll remain silent. I must seem so obscure to you and I apologize for that. It's because I haven't seen anyone in years nor have I used my voice this much. The most I would speak was just to practice singing and speak to the man who brings me my groceries. But other than that I've been quiet for 2 years. I'm sure you been just as quiet, almost your whole life. Perhaps you know the loneliness I know."

"I would like to say I've felt such loneliness, but I don't know if I can truly say that. I assume you've known people, something which I have not. Because I have never had their presence for long, I can't miss them in their absence, it's what I have always known."

"That makes sense. But the strange thing is, I haven't known much of people either. It's the fact that when you've known even the smallest amount of love, you can't forget it." If I could have seen his face, I'm sure he would have been smiling in a forlorn sort of way.

Then we heard a rapping coming from the front door. I jumped.

"It's only the man who brings my groceries," He said and I calmed down. "He comes every two weeks."

Erik went to the door and I stayed where I was. I heard him talk a little with the man then thank him and the door closed. I then went out into the main room. There were several cloth bags filled with various items sitting on the floor. I picked up two of them and brought them into the kitchen without him asking. He followed a few seconds after carrying the remaining bags.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome." I helped him take the things out of the bags and put them away. As we were, he asked me a question.

"That was brave of you…" He said finally, "Not to scream while he beat you."

"What made that come to your mind?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure why, ma biche, I just want you to know that it was incredibly brave."

After that he said no more. I could tell he was musing and I decided it would be best not to disturb him. I then went to my own room when we finished putting the groceries away.

I stayed in my room sketching for a little while. I was now doing portraits. Not of anyone in particular, just of any face that came to my mind.

I looked at the clock that hanged in my room. It was 11 PM. I decided that I was tired and got ready for bed.

Going out into the hallway, I meant to find Erik and wish him a goodnight like I usually did.

I walked out into the drawing room to see if he was there and I found him, sitting on the loveseat, slumped over a bit. He was muttering things that I could barely hear. He must have been asleep.

"Christine…" He said, "Go…you love that young man…go…leave poor unhappy Erik" I took another step and he quickly sat up and looked back at me.

"Erik? Are you alright?"

"Yes…I'm fine, I was just…just having a dream." But I could tell he wasn't fine for he was shaking and tears were running down his neck. He put his head in his hands and just sat there.

"Erik…" I came to sit beside him. "Really, are you alright? I'm here to listen if you need it." He cried for a little while longer and I sat by him the whole time.

"Roxanne?"

"Yes Erik?" I said.

"Do you know what it's like to kiss and be kissed?" I was almost surprised by the question.

"No."

"Neither did I til two years ago, a girl, Christine, let me kiss her forehead, and she kissed mine in return. And then I wept. I wept because I knew I couldn't keep her. I wanted her so much but I couldn't. I loved her but she loved another man. But she showed me that there is some good in the world. I hope someday you have the fortune of meeting someone who shows you the same thing."

"Someone already has," I said quietly and he turned to look at me, obviously understanding despite my vagueness.

Although I had only known him a week and several days, I felt attached to him. Perhaps because he took me out of that hell that I knew as the only way to live.

"Ma biche, you don't know what you're saying, there's plenty of good, kind, normal people out there to befriend you, perhaps you haven't found them yet, but I'm sure they're out there."

"But I like your friendship. It's the only one I've known, I have to protect it, I can't lose it." Then I thought a terrible thing. "Do I irritate you?"

"Irritate me? No, of course not. Why would I have gone after you if you irritated me?"

"I don't know…"

We sat with the sound of silence lying heavily in the air.

"Erik," I said, boldly putting my hand over his. "You make me happy."

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