Thank you so much for the reviews and the follows! I am glad you're enjoying this story so far. This chapter is a bit of a doozy - but it's got some backstory. So maybe it'll make up for it? I'm sorry, again, if there's mistakes. I don't have a lot of time to write and I do try to go over it but sometimes I don't catch things.
On a different note, has anyone seen Amy Manford as Christine in the Australian production? She's so lovely! I only wish I lived over there to see her perform in person.
Chapter Eight
Christine woke to the sun barely peeking around the darkened curtains. It was just enough to see. She shivered and wondered if the lack of warmth had been the reason for her sudden awakeness. She moved slightly and it occurred to her that she was still quite naked.
The previous night flooded back to her and she smiled goofily to herself. Finally she had been truthful to her heart and gave herself to the man who had stolen it. Her best friend. Her mentor. Her love.
Before rolling over, she knew he wasn't in bed with her any longer. She had always been able to sense his presence rather well and so looking over to where she had left him before falling asleep, she wasn't surprised to find it vacant.
She lay a hand over the area and found it to be cold. He'd been gone for a while now. Sighing, she sat up and stretched, taking her time. Now that she knew that he wouldn't be leaving her, she felt quite content to be there in the new house and enjoy her new life.
Sure, she'd miss Meg and certain aspects of her life but the Christine from before was miserable and lonely. She was no longer that girl.
She climbed off of the bed and grabbed the blanket, settling it around her shoulders and wrapping herself in it. She padded to the closed door and poked her head outside. She didn't hear him moving about but she rarely could. He was graceful on his feet and was always silent as a mouse.
She smiled, intending on wrapping her arms around his emaciated body when she saw him, and left the bedroom.
He wasn't in the living room or in the dining room. Something caught her eye from the bathroom and she was surprised to see a toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter. Smiling, she set about brushing her teeth so she could kiss him properly. He must have gone while she slept to get necessities.
Christine sincerely hoped that he bought food as well. She was ravenous.
However, he wasn't in the kitchen either. Perhaps he was out getting more things? She went to the fridge and saw it was completely stocked full. The cupboards were as well with pantry items. There were two packages of Oreos.
Not seeing him though, it made a strange pit form in her belly. He just went to the store, Christine.
She grabbed an apple off of the fruit basket on the counter and took a bite, trying to both settle her hunger pains and her nerves. She walked back into the living room and that was when she saw it.
A folded piece of paper on the coffee table, a red rose laying across it. How she hadn't noticed it before was beyond her and she quickly walked over to it to pick up the rose.
It was exactly the same as when he'd leave her one after her performances. The thorns removed. A black ribbon tied around the stem. She swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat and sat the rose down.
Maybe he was just being sweet to her and would be back soon.
Her hand shook as she picked up the paper and unfolded it awkwardly with a blanket covered hand. She immediately recognized his horrendous penmanship and felt warm, hot tears pierce her eyes - already suspecting what the words said.
My dearest Christine,
Oh, how you have made me a happy man. In all my life I had never thought I'd be deserving or able to find such happiness. A year ago, I was illusioned to believe that it could be possible with you but after completely losing my mind and sabotaging anything that could have happened between us out of jealousy and self loathing, I gave that dream up. However, I never stopped loving you. I do not think I will ever stop, even past the grave. You're a part of me, forever engraved in my soul. These few days with you have been the best of my life. I do not deserve your forgiveness or your kindness, my dear. You have every right to hate me.
When you said you did not, I was astonished. Surely, you did! I ruined your university career, almost killed your fiancé at the time, as well as now pulled you into the horrors of my past. None of which you ever deserved.
You deserve everything in this world, Christine. You are a true light and incredibly strong. No matter what life has thrown at you, you have picked yourself up and continued forward. You even look upon me without fear. These are things I love about you.
God, how I love you.
And this is why I must leave you. You are safe, for now. However, I will not rest easy knowing that they are still out there searching for you. It is my duty to end this, to give you the life you deserve - without the pain and suffering and darkness.
The plan was always for me to carry out the end of this and I know that I will not return.
But I will die knowing that you are truly safe and eventually will be happy.
Christine choked on her sobs, tears tracking down her cheeks.
Don't cry, my dear. Keep me in your heart always. For you will be in mine. You are truly the angel you believed me to be, once upon a time. You were always MY angel of music. Angel of everything.
I have bought you everything you will need for awhile: food in the kitchen, toiletries in the bathroom, and clothing in the bedroom. I also procured you a cell phone. It is untraceable but you will have access to the outside world. Be careful with who you speak to.
There is also a car for you being delivered tomorrow. Do not worry, I bought it through an online service. It was not stolen.
When you receive the car, please call Nadir. He is the only contact on the phone. He can be trusted and I have entrusted you with him for a while. He will be setting up a bank account for you with all of my finances. You will be set for a very long time.
That is, unless he is apprehended. A long time ago, he was a detective that somehow found an invisible man such as myself. He is very adept at his job. He and I ended up working together to bring down as many mafia members as possible. They realized quickly that they had a spy and when it was I that was accused, I did what I needed to do and I took down their leader. Something I'm paying for now.
Do not fear, my darling. It will all be over soon. Please take care of yourself and do the world a favor and continue to bless it with your breathtaking voice.
I love you Christine. More than anyone ever could love someone.
Goodbye my dearest.
Forever your obedient servant,
Erik
Horrible sounds came from her throat and she fell into a heap on the floor, the blanket pooling around her. Her fist went to her mouth as she tried to stop the absolute pain that wrecked through her body.
How could he do this to her? After everything. After last night? After she loved him back.
But he was gone now. He wasn't going to return this time. He was actually going to die and there was nothing she could do about it.
She cried herself hoarse, until her body grew exhausted and her head and sinuses hurt. She made herself get up, her legs protesting from sitting on the wooden floor for so long.
She went back to the bedroom and opened the closet, seeing shirts and dresses lined up with hangers. She suppressed another sob and took the first dress she could reach. It was a dark blue floral dress that reached her knees. She dropped the blanket on the bed and pulled the dress on.
She went to the dresser and grabbed underwear from the top drawer. He always had thought of everything.
Once dressed, she moved like a zombie back to the living room and spotted the apple she had at some point dropped onto the floor. It had rolled over by the piano. Ignoring it for now, she sat down on the bench and laid her head down on the wooden fallboard, as if it could be the same as hugging him.
She couldn't believe he was gone. Truly and utterly gone.
"Erik…" she murmured, eyes blankly going to the far wall, the strong scent of wood overwhelming her senses. "Erik, you promised. You promised you'd say goodbye."
The first time Erik had let her go. This time, she would have to let him go. But how. How could she? He was everything. And after last night she had, for the first time since her father had died, felt like everything was finally going to be okay. She had been able to see it. Their future together. Living happily with music and going for walks in the moonlight. She'd have to learn to cook and find out what he did eat. Perhaps he wouldn't be so thin if she could convince him. Maybe she'd go to school again. Or they could travel.
But the fantasy stopped. He was gone. Forever this time. For real -
No! Her heart protested. No. She couldn't allow that.
Her head snapped up with a sudden realization. The phone!
She scrambled to her feet and began searching the house, unsure of where he had left it. She finally found it, ironically enough, on the nightstand next to where she had slept. It was on the charger and she pulled it free.
It took her a second to figure out how to work it, it being a different model than she'd had previously, this one was much newer. Nonetheless, she found the contacts and saw the letter N.
Nadir.
Surely, he'd help her right?
She pressed the call button and put it to her ear, listening to the ringing with a racing heart.
"Christine? You're calling much earlier than I expected." His voice was heavily accented.
"Nadir! This is you, right?"
"Ah, yes it is. Your mentor must have left you, correct?"
Christine choked on a panicked sob. "Yes! Nadir, you have to help me. He's going to get himself killed to save me. I can't let him do that."
There was a long pause, while Christine tried to regain her wits about her. She sniffled loudly.
"This was always the plan, my dear. The fact that you are now and will always be safe is what was truly important. He knew that this was the only way to guarantee that."
"But he can't! Nadir… I… well I love him! I can't simply just let him die!"
"L-Love him?" Nadir sounded quite shocked by the confession. "Surely not… after everything that he put you through."
Christine swallowed back more tears, feeling more confident with her feelings the more she spoke them aloud. "I do. With every fiber of my being. I cannot lose him like this. Not again. Will you help me?"
Nadir sighed heavily through the phone. "Christine, did you tell him this?"
"Yes. Well no. I tried to but he wouldn't let me."
"More than likely because he knew what was going to happen," Nadir assumed. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to stop it from happening."
"Surely there has to be something! Do you know where he could be headed? I could stop him somehow."
"You will do no such thing! After all Erik did to make sure of your safety. You must not jeopardize it and allow him to die in vain."
"If we can make it in time, he won't have to die at all. Is he going back to the East coast?"
Nadir blew out a breath. "Eventually he will be. First, he would more than likely stop in Wyoming."
"Wyoming! That's not far from here." Hope began to take flight in her heart. Maybe she could get to him before he did anything reckless.
"It's only sixteen hours away from you, Christine. He is more than likely almost there. Depending on when he left."
"I have to believe I can get to him in time. I have to," she insisted. "Please help me, Nadir. You're the only one who can. You know where he's headed."
"This is a horrible idea, Christine. You know that? If what he plans to do doesn't kill him, he will surely murder me next."
Christine could hear the give in his voice and smiled, relieved that she'd have help. "Where are you now?"
"I'm in Montana. I could turn around and see what I could do."
"No, I need to be with you. I don't think he'll stop if it's just you. Could you call him?"
"Unfortunately not. The phone he uses is untraceable and so I am unable to reach it unless he calls me. Which he should not."
Christine grabbed at her hair in frustration. "I don't have a car. I can't get there and by the time you reach me, it'll probably be too late."
"Well, he isn't planning on the major conclusion until he reaches back to the East Coast. It's where the headquarters is."
"Alright. Then worst case, we stop him before he leaves Wyoming."
"He'll be headed for Texas next. Then the East Coast. I doubt we'd be able to make it in time to Wyoming. However, if we can make it to Texas before he heads East, we should be able to stop him."
Christine nodded. "Okay. I'll just need to find a way to get there. He ordered me a car but it won't be here until tomorrow."
"Damn. Is there anything you could drive?"
Christine frowned. "Not that I know of. I'm on a mountain so it's not like I could get public transportation."
"Alright, I will tell you what. I will head to Wyoming. Get to him, if I can. Stall him if I must. Try to get him to call you. Worst case scenario, I head to Texas. By tomorrow, when you get your car, head south immediately and call me. I will give you directions."
Christine hated waiting but she knew she couldn't do anything about it. "Okay. Just as long as we have a chance at stopping him."
"We will do what we can, Christine. He is a stubborn man and will stop at nothing to make sure his goals are met."
She knew that one first hand. She gripped the phone with tight fingers. "I will call you tomorrow as soon as I am on the road."
"Good. I will do my best, Christine."
"That's all I ask of you."
They hung up and she shakily sat the phone down on the bed. She was relieved that Erik wouldn't be submitting himself to death so soon. That they had time to stop him. That she could stop him. She was grateful to Nadir for being willing to help. Perhaps he cared for Erik as well…
It would take her practically three days to get to Texas. She just hoped that she'd be able to get to him in time. Or that Nadir could. That one of them could convince him to stop this horrible plan of his.
He had despised singing from an early age. No one's voice had ever sounded right to him. His own voice had even been bothersome. His mother had forbidden him to sing, it had apparently made her feel strange. On his own, he quickly realized he could make others feel strange with it too. It had become a weapon.
As did his abominable face.
When he had taken refuge under the theater in his hometown, nestled in northern New York, he had not seen her coming.
The pure, crystal like quality of her voice made the noise in his head stop. Every single horrible thing that had ever happened to him disappeared. It immediately entranced him, swallowing him up.
Suddenly, the music that had always run through his veins had a voice.
At first, he simply watched her, desperate to hear her sing again. Needing to hear her sing again. He followed her as her shadow, unable to bring himself to confront her but unwilling to stop the fixation that had gripped him in a vice-like grip.
Her auditions for roles, although beautiful, could not give her success and she was left standing in the far back corner with supporting roles, invisible roles, and even silent ones. It was tainting her. He could see her wilting away. The confidence never gained. The drive disappearing.
He couldn't bear to see her this way. He knew what she had the potential for. He could see it. Could hear it. Especially when she thought she was alone. Those moments in particular. Her voice soared high and clear, caressing him in places he had not thought existed within him.
It was during one of these moments that he realized what he could do for her.
But he couldn't. Not with his appearance. Not with his life the way it was. He was a man of shadow. Of secrecy. Of disgusting features. His soul and his heart was stained black from years of not caring whether he lived or died. For surely this world would be better off without him.
But the thought, the wishful thinking honestly, that the soul purpose for his horrible existence was because of this blonde haired, blue eyed, girl with sadness in her eyes and a magnificent instrument in her throat.
He had lured her. Unbeknownst to her. He'd stolen her bag, leaving it on the stage for her to return for it, once realizing it was missing. Sure enough, he did not have to wait long. The auditorium was empty. The only sound was her footsteps.
The poor thing had been terrified by his sudden voice, echoing against the acoustics. She tripped over her feet. He offered her singing lessons, as an invisible tutor of course. He evaded her questions of his identity. He convinced her by offering one lesson. One lesson to prove to her that he could help her rise out of the shadows and into the light where she deserved to be.
He had been uncertain if she'd actually come, but she had. He had been jittery that whole week prior, choosing specific arias for her to try and form a lesson plan in case she agreed to continue. And she would agree. He had been confident of his expertise.
Hearing her voice. Speaking to him, in the small practice room in the back of the theater, did wonders to his blackened soul. Sure, it was just his voice that she was conversing with, and she'd never accept him, but it was everything in those months of training her.
Her voice, as he has predicted, soared to new levels and far exceeded his and her expectations. He could see her confidence rising and the smiles she gave him… it was enough to melt his ice cold heart.
She began to get better roles in the productions. Not the lead, no, not yet. No longer was she an invisible castmate. She was beginning to bloom into the delicate, beautiful flower he knew she could be.
At some point, their lessons seemed to take a turn. He didn't notice it at first. She began to speak to him about her life. Her friend, Meg, who was also a part of the theater. He knew of her because of her mother. She had been his go between for a long time.
Christine spoke of her father. Of her dreams. Of her failures. And he… the ever miserable, recluse of a man, soaked the attention up and held onto it tightly. He gave her advice. He gave her comfort. Anything he could give her, he would. He'd leave her those chocolate and cream filled cookies she loved, when he was desperate for those smiles. Desperate to know that he had given her something.
But still… he was just a voice. He left the desires and fantasies of eventually revealing himself and living happily ever after to the quiet moments of solitude in his self made prison under the theater.
That is, until that boy appeared.
He had coaxed her into auditioning for the newest production's lead. She had been against the idea at first but he'd been able to convince her. He had worked harder than she had before, but it had paid off. She had a flawless audition and if it hadn't been for the fact that the usual lead had been seducing her way into her roles, Christine would have secured it.
Livid, he had made the woman stealing his Christine's role, think she was going crazy. It had been easy. He'd throw his voice, create sounds around her only she could hear, and then when he was certain she had met her wits end, he dropped the scenery on her extravagant costume she had insisted on wearing - making her run out in tears, quitting on the spot, leaving Christine open to play the role.
Of course, Christine had no idea he had been behind it.
And it had been worth it. The deceit. For she had run through the theater to their little practice room, eyes sparkling and smiling so bright, that he would have fallen to her feet at that moment from the beauty of her.
It has intoxicated him. Drugged him to the point that he thought perhaps… perhaps she'd be alright meeting him.
He planned it over the course of weeks. The way he'd invite her. The way he'd bring her down. The way he'd dress. What he'd do to make her comfortable in his presence. The orchestrated apologies he would make for keeping himself hidden from her for so long. He'd reassure her that she'd never have to look upon his horrendous visage. And he'd use his voice.
His voice would convince her. That she was made for him. And that he was made solely for her.
Of course, his plans all crumbled down around him in white, searing hot blades through his heart when after her breathtaking debut as lead, that boy from her childhood had appeared and whisked her away from him. It didn't help that the boy was irrevocably handsome.
He realized what a fool he'd been. To think that he could ever compete with the world outside of darkness and shadow. Christine belonged in the light. The sunshine on her beautiful face. She deserved it all.
And he was unable to give that to her.
He had stared at himself in the mirror, something he never did, for hours. Days. He had no idea. But he reminded himself over and over again that he did not deserve to even stand in her presence.
But then she began speaking about him. Full of smiles. Laughter. As if throwing it all on his face that he'd never be what she wanted.
It made him furious. It made him insane.
So when she told him she'd be leaving for a week with the boy to the ocean, he had acted.
He would not allow her to go with the boy and fall madly in love and never return to him. To realize she could have that.
No, he would convince her that he was worthy. Even though he most assuredly wasn't. Perhaps, given time, after she knew of him, she'd grow to love him too.
He formed a horrible plan and followed her silently through the theater the night before she was set to leave with the boy and used an old weapon - a syringe with sedation. He pricked her easily, before she even knew what was being done to her, and the poor girl collapsed in his horrible, wretched arms.
Oh god, how he loved the way she felt against him.
He took her down to his home and reluctantly laid her across his bed, something he rarely used, but had in case the need hit him. She looked angelic against the red, velvety blanket under her. Her blonde curls framed her pale, delicate face. Her dark lashes kissed the slightly freckled cheeks.
He stood there and stared at her for so long, his legs grew stiff.
He hadn't been prepared for her screams. Or her crying. Or the fact that she locked herself up in his bedroom. He was frantic and panicked. He cooked for her. Hoping she'd realize he meant her no harm. He played music he'd written for her. Music she liked. He desperately tried to get her to understand him.
But she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't allow him to explain. She knew who he was immediately when he spoke, that much was clear, but she was unwilling to accept that he was only trying to love her.
Eventually, she came out of the room. Her eyes did not sparkle. She did not smile at him. She ate the food he cooked for her silently. The hole in his heart grew and grew. He convinced her to sing for him. Thinking if only he could hear her voice everything would be okay. That she'd fall back to being the beautiful student he had and they'd become friends again. But it was for naught.
She lacked warmth or soul that he had heard prior. He had not wanted to admit that it had been him that had caused the difference.
However, something began to shift. He couldn't quite understand it. She began to talk to him more. She wanted to get to know him. Of course he could not traumatize her by the horrors of his life but the fact that she was interested in him spoke volumes.
It gave him hope.
She sang. He played. He even sang for her once, when she had asked him. He had been hesitant, knowing the effect it had, but she had such a grip on him that he hardly thought there was anything he would refuse her. Sure enough, her eyes glazed over and her body leaned in, making it so easy for him to take advantage of the situation. To make her do anything he had dreamed of.
But he didn't. No. He did not want a hypnotized woman. He wanted a living one.
This surreal life down in his dark house under the theater grew dear to his heart and he desperately did not want it to end.
Unfortunately, all good things never stayed good for long. At least, in his life.
It turned to horror for both of them the moment she snuck up to him as he played the piano one evening and unmasked him.
He said and did things out of anger, betrayal, and fear that he would never had said to his perfect angel. She locked herself up in the bedroom once more and the little fantasy life disappeared.
He knew at that moment that she would never love him.
Erik's eyes closed, remembering a sweet face and an angelic voice in his mind, as explosion after explosion sounded behind him. The soft curls of her hair tickling his skin. The smile she gave him. The way she clutched to him in the dark.
He swallowed down the sobs that threatened to erupt.
He'd never feel her lips upon his dead skin again. Because soon he would be what his corpse of a body had foreshadowed his whole wretched life.
A corpse. And no angel could ever be with a corpse.
