A/N: Aloha again! Thank you to all who reviewed… I am in the midst of exams, as mentioned last chapter, and hopefully I can still update during this month... Let's hope! Exams are a pain… and I would much rather be watching POTO again instead of studying for exams… but life isn't always so fair… I just got slaughtered this morning by one… sigh
Reviews are deeply appreciated, and if there are any bits of constructive criticism, I would be glad to receive them… I have no beta, so this is purely my own cut…
The standard disclaimer applies… Anything recognizable does not belong to me… sadly…
Now on with the show…
Bittersweet – Chapter 4
She was trapped. But where? Where was she? She looked around, hoping to find something that would allude to her location. She was lost, cold, and terrified. Suddenly, she saw a speck of light far away, over to the left. She walked toward it, slowly at first, then breaking out into a run. The light drew closer and closer, and then it overwhelmed her. She stopped, wanting to see what was around her, only to cringe at the sight before her. It was Erik's lair, except it wasn't. Everything was destroyed, from the precious organ to the miniature set of the stage. The sheets of music that littered the lair were everywhere, wet, torn, and completely destroyed. She felt a pain in her heart, knowing that music was destroyed. If it wasn't splintered, it was bent, torn, or shredded. The busts around the lair were shattered, the drawings torn and dirtied, and the sheets on the bed torn. She remembered the feel of those linens against herself, so soft, so comfortable. She wanted to cry at the sight. It was such a beautiful lair. Creepy, yes, but it had its own sense of mystery and beauty to it. Now, this place was not a place of beauty – it was a place of destruction.
She was so engrossed in surveying the damage to the lair that she did not notice the figure beside the broken mirrors. That figure, crouched over in pain, whimpered, drawing her attention to it. She recognized him at once, and was bombarded with guilt as she knew that it was her that brought such pain onto him. She moved toward him, but stopped when he rose to his feet. It was then she saw his face. The distortion of his face on his right side no longer frightened her. It was the pain and agony that was etched onto his perfect side that sent daggers into her heart. No matter what had happened these past few months, she still cared for him. He was her tutor, the one who had brought her voice to the quality it was today. He was the one giving her the chances, though not exactly how she wanted him to. He walked toward her, and she braced herself for a confrontation. However, he seemed to look right through her at something behind her. She turned back around, following his gaze to the Punjab lasso that still hung from the grate that was the entrance to his kingdom. He started for the water, but stopped himself, looking back at the alcove with the mannequin in it. He walked over, his steps heavy and slow. She followed him in silence, not knowing what he was going to do. He collapsed in front of the mannequin, sobbing once again. Whispers came out of his mouth, and even her keen ears did not pick out whatever he was saying. She leaned closer to him, and was rewarded with conherent words.
"I'm sorry, my love… I'm sorry… Forgive me, my angel. I beg your forgiveness, knowing it would be impossible… I wish you happiness, my love, and though my selfish heart wants you to remember me, I know it would be best if you forgot me. Goodbye, my angel. I am no Angel of Music, but I will always take care of you, even when I am burning in hell… Goodbye."
With these words, he rose, catching her off-guard. She was bracing herself for a collision, as she would not be able to move away in time to prevent one, and a collision and confrontation were inevitable. However, to her surprise, he passed right through her. Shocked, she looked down at her hands. They looked solid enough, but things can be deceiving. While she was lost in her own thoughts, he had made his way towards the grate. He took off the Punjab lasso and took it with him towards the shore. He rummaged around and found a semi-broken wooden crate, quite a large one, but not too large. He found two candelabra and placed them next to the crate. He walked right along the shore, and threw the Punjab lasso towards the grate, successfully winding it quite a ways higher than it originally was. He tied it to one of the remaining candelabras that were in the water.
She stayed still while he went on doing this. She couldn't for the life of her understand why he did that, until he threw the lasso against the grate. Then it all became clear.
He was trying to kill himself.
"No! No! You can't do this, no!" She screamed, but he couldn't hear her. She ran towards the wooden crate, throwing herself over it in an attempt to make him confront her before he got to the crate. She forgot, however that she couldn't be seen or heard. The crate passed through her when he picked it up and walked toward the grate. She could not do anything except follow him out, grabbing at him at every given chance, hoping that if she touched him enough, he would sense her and listen to her. He put the candelabra into the wooden crate, and climbed on top of it. Grabbing hold of the lasso, which was a little to the left of himself, he threaded his head through.
She grabbed at his feet, hoping to make contact. She tried to climb on top of the crate and pull his head away from the noose, but her feet passed right through. She cried out to him, but he could not hear her. He looked towards the mannequin, and said his final words.
"Christine, I love you."
With that, he kicked off, and the rope went slack against his weight. She screamed, cried, and felt completely useless.
"No… No… NO!..."
Suddenly, an invisible force threw her back towards the shore, robbing her both of movement. She screamed in agony as her heart began to break and bleed itself dry.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
The bloodcurdling scream woke just about everybody in the house. Mme. Giry, Meg, and Raoul were instantly up and were running towards Christine's room. Étienne and Marie, the housekeeper, were also up and running towards the source of the noise. Mme. Giry, being closest to Christine, arrived first. She flung the door open to find her surrogate daughter up in bed, her head in her hands, and sobbing incessantly. She rushed over, putting a hand on Christine's shoulder. Christine's tear-streaked face looked back up at her, her mouth trembling and her eyes reflecting deep sadness and pain. Then she threw her arms around Mme. Giry, sobbing into her chest. "Madame, its terrible! Terrible! I couldn't stop him, madame. I couldn't stop him!"
Mme. Giry thought Christine was talking about the incident that fateful night. She held Christine close. "Shush, ma petite fille, nobody can harm you here. Shush, shush…" Christine would not stop shaking her head, though. "What's wrong, my child? You don't believe me?"
"No, madame, it's not that… I couldn't stop him! Oh!" Again, Christine collapsed into sobs. Mme. Giry was at a loss at what to do, and she hated that. She has always known what to do to comfort, to help. Now, there was absolutely nothing she could do. Until Christine gets over her fear, there was nothing anybody can do to help her.
'Curse you, Erik,' Mme. Giry thought. 'Curse you for causing Christine pain…'
Please please review! If you already have, much thanks!
