Rio I just thought I would share that your review absolutly MADE MY DAY. Which is hard to do on a saturday morning but you've succeeded with flying colors. :hug:
I wish I could hug you all in real life, I would write this anyway but I wouldn't post it if not for you all, who make me so happy.
Well. My computer is dead. So my writing time has been cut to a third or less of what it was. I wanted this chapter out fast and its sort of short because of that. I will write as much as I can but I can't do anything until I get my computer working. Sadly I have to mail it away to get it fixed so...yeah. Sucks, but I will write in spirals so whenever I have chances to type, I'll just be copying the story so it should go fast...I hope.
Practices were difficult things as it was. Our Mistress was Russian and didn't speak too much French. Instead, when angered, she cursed at us in Russian until we got it right on our own. I loved her. She was cruel yes but you didn't get by being adequate with her, you were forced to do well, too many times I felt shows were ruined by the youngest rats who were coddled and babied because of their age. With Mistress Ana that did not happen and if you looked under the cold exterior and ignored the temper she had-not saying I didn't have one of those myself-she really was an amazing woman and even Sorelli isn't as good a dancer as she. But Ana's passion is dancing, so Sorelli didn't have any need to fear for her position.
The ballet rats are a tight-knit group and you can't have secrets among them. When Jammes came running up to me before practice saying that everyone was talking about my "Big Secret" I was sure that I was done for. Somehow they had learned that I had been helping Erik and word had gotten around and now the Baron would not marry me and I would be fired for certain and...
"Why didn't you tell me you were trying out for Bridget's part?" She asked, taking one of my hands into both her own. For several moments I just stood there and stared. She had startled me with that comment and I didn't know what to do, finally I managed to find my voice and asked what she was talking about. "Everyone's speaking about it, you got the part and Sorelli is furious, she says you aren't good enough to dance beside her." Jammes was speaking quickly but I understood every word. Because each word pushed into my heart like a dagger. I was thrilled that I got the part but for some reason my success angered the Prima Ballerina.
Christine may have thought that Carlotta was a spoiled cow but she was nothing to Sorelli. She could make your life a heaven or a hell and if she was mad at you, well no ballerina Sorille had been angry with had ever stayed at the Opera House for long. I had thought those days were over now that she was in mourning for Philippe but apparently nothing was bad enough to make her change her ways. I swallowed hard and suddenly the glass in my toe shoes made a lot more sense. That was the thing about Sorelli, other than ignoring you she didn't say anything but, as I said, the rats are tightly knit. Most everyone would take her side and I would become a pariah, they would torture me relentlessly until Sorelli called them off or I quit. It was the way of the ballet and it had never changed in all the years I had been here.
Practice that day was difficult, not just because I was starting to practice for a part that was well above what I could do but also because at every opportunity someone kicked me, pulled my hair or in some way made my life difficult. Every time she saw it, Jammes would smile weakly in a way that seemed to say, "I'm sorry". I would shrug and go back to what I had been doing. I finally had a large part, I wasn't going to let a little thing like this get in my way. I could handle this. We let out around sun down, just before the lamplighters would go around lighting the lamps and I stayed for an extra hour, practicing with Mistress Ana. She was cruel but that was what I needed, I needed someone who would go over my dancing with a fine toothed comb.
From there I sneaked down to see Erik. It had been several days and I was worried for him, had been worried about him all the time I could not spend with him but my foot ached too much to dance and I did that anyway, I didn't need to put any stress on it that wasn't absolutly necassary. It was difficult today, aching muscles and throbbing foot included, but I managed my way into the grand room which was all of the Phantom's home that I knew. "Erik?" I called tenitivly as I peered into the room, limping a little, trying to give my foot a respite if I could. It was getting better but dancing on it as hard as I had today was of no help.
If I had never gone down there that day maybe things would have been different. My father, before he had his accident, used to believe that God gave second-chances. God would allow you one chance to fix mistakes and if you could find it you got it. If I had not gone down that day perhaps a man would not have had to die because of me. Perhaps my life would have been different.
Not that any of that really matters. I went down, I hobbled into that darkened room and I felt the soft sensation, almost like a breath against my neck, of the famous lasso as it looped around my neck, once, and then again before it pulled tight and I was dragged to almost my tip toes, almost because he who was weilding the weapon knew that a ballerina could stay en pointe for long enough. I was a breath away from the floor, dangling lightly. I would have screamed, cursed, anything but that I could barely breathe. I had managed to tangle my fingers between the first and second loops and I tugged at the string, allowing myself a few gasps here and there if I was lucky. Wghen I saw Erik my eyes narrowed and the small bit of me that was my father flared too life. Afterall, America was the land of the brave, a place where even women could hold their own.
I had heard stories of women, women who owned bars and who shot guns better then men. And their blood ran within me, if not a bit watered down. I saw that pale mask first and then the eyes and then the smooth, unmarred flesh of the good half of his face. I saw him and I used the lasso to allow myself to swing, thrashing my legs wildly and making as much noise as I could. Oh no, I had no hope of being heard but screaming made me feel a lot better, made me feel like I was doing something to save myself.
"Madmoiselle, is something wrong?" He asked in a smug, self-assured voice accompanied by a delicate tilt of his head not unlike a bird. I froze and swung for a moment, my eyes cold. I stuggled and managed only to gag weakly instead of the curse I had planned for him. I was sure that just this once God would be forgiving without pennance just because I was fighting for my life. I hoped. I would confess just the same on Sunday and with those thoughts held tight to my breast like a comforting relic of childhood I pulled my hands free of the rope. Instantly I realized how much I had been helping and I realized that not only had I no chance of breathing but I could feel it biting into the flesh of my neck.
I was too busy to do anything about that though. I moved my whole body at once, swinging at Erik and managing to grip one side of his cape. He stumbled and that was my chance, I dragged myself forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, driving my hip against it, trying to strangle him as he was me. To go out without a fight was an affront to my pride and as bad as suicide. I would not die like this and if he was going to make me rot in hell, he was coming with. He fought against me and I fought back just as hard, harder because I had less chance of surviving. Finally I felt a knife against my neck and I was sure I was going to die. Instead I crashed to the floor, dragging the man with me and succeeding in landing almost entirely on my injured foot. That time I did swear. Violently.
"A lady should know more words than to have to be reduced to such course language." He admonished, sounding a bit like my mother.
"And a gentleman shouldn't try to kill a lady who is trying to help him!" I shouted, groaned was more like it. It was difficult to speak and I felt like I had rocks in my throat. I began to cry without really meaning to, it was just that I had felt empowered when my life had been on the line, the same sort of energy I got when I felt weak in the middle of a dance, and now...Now that power was gone and all I could do was sit there, kneeling on the floor with my hands covering my face as I wept like a child. I missed my father and I hurt everywhere and for some reason it hurt that Erik had tried to kill me. Not just that he had injured me, but...for some reason I couldn't name, it hurt that he had tried to kill me.
And some trecherous place in my mind breathed for a moment, stretched and then rushed forward, flooding me with cold heat. He would not have tried to kill Christine.
I whimpered and fell silent, tears still streaming freely down my face. "Why? Why did you do that?" I was angry. Even if I was still crying I was furious and I was strong as I whirled on the suddenly confused man.
"I told you once Megan! I wish to be alone to die! You came here of your own will and I cannot be responsible for what happened to you because of that." The last part was the only part he didn't shout. It was like a child's defense, weak. And he knew it, he knew that was nothing, those words meant nothing and he still clung to them, hoping in some small way that if he said it enough it would be true.
"Dammit Erik, take responsibility for your own actions, you could have chosen not to attack me because you did know I meant you no harm, quite the opposite in fact. Be a man." I hissed the last part. I did regret it, even before I spoke it I regretted it but I wanted to say it. I wanted to hurt him. Somehow he had hurt me more than just physically and so I wanted to hurt him back. I was the child. He was scared, alone and he didn't trust anyone. I knew that about him and I should have known better he was right. I was in my own way responsible, but in that moment? In that moment I wanted nothing more than to hurt him as much as I could.
From the looks of things in the few moments after I spoke I realized that I succeeded. His eye grew hard and I could see his face grow lines, muscles pulling and twisting into a frown. I was still on the floor though he had stood long ago and I took this chance to stand, ready to run. In a second all the stories I had heard about him rushed through my head. He raised his hand.
"Do not be so quick to touch me Erik!" His face changed when I said that and-child that I was-I thought he was confused that someone dared to stand up to him. "If you lay one hand on me-"
"You'll what? Led the whole of the Opera House donw here to destroy my home? Your mother has beaten you to that little Giry." He snapped, his words harsh, biting into me.
"I would never do that." I told him quietly. Saving my voice for something that needed to be screamed.
"Your mother said the very same thing to me and look where we two stand now." He remarked offhandedly.
"I am not my mother." I informed him, actually thinking that maybe he didn't know.
"Oh no, of course not, you fancy yourself a dancer." He told me.
"Don't mock me. In all your years here you never commented on the Ballerinas. You don't know the first thing about what I do. You don't know anything at all. I go home at night and tend bleeding feet. I suffer for my art. What? You think living down here is bad? That's your own choice. You could afford a nice apartment anywhere. You choose to suffer down here. If I want to continue my art I have to suffer, there's not another choice. I came here to help you, not out of pity, but because there was a time I respected you, defended you even. I thought my mother was wrong to break her word and lead them to you. I thought that Christine was a fool to give up her song and to lie to you like she did. I thought a lot of things about a lot of people and now I see that they were all right! All of them! You would kill someone who came to help you because you want to die? You are a monster Christine was right!" I didn't need to say anything else but I blundered on anyway. "I used to look at you and see a man who had suffered, I thought that no one could be beyond redemption but I see now that you will never change! You will always be a monster with a mask on, pretending to be human!"
"You win Erik. I will never return! I will leave and let you die. Not that you care oh great Opera-writer but tomorrow is opening night. If you've not died they didn't sell your precious box and you can come watch and see. We do just fine without some monster" I spat out the word like it was a bad taste in my mouth, "telling us how to do things."
And I left. Just like that I left, without another word, without another breath.
And just like that I end the chapter.