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I should have been proud of Erik, but I was only confused. Why do it in the worst way possible? He could have given me a moment to warn Marianne. Just so she wouldn't have stared.

But my husband is an unfathomable man—and slightly mad, although I do believe I have restored him to a modicum of sanity.

My eyes lock on his for the briefest of seconds as he comes down the path, straight towards where Marianne and I are gathering flowers for my kitchen. Maybe it's because I rarely see Erik next to another human being, but it's as if I am suddenly struck by how intimidating he is; he is tall and frightfully thin, with that mask covering nearly everything but his eyes, which glimmer strangely in the shaded light.

I watch Marianne, and she sees him almost instantly. For a minute, I'm afraid that she won't know who it is, and pass him off as someone else, and then I shall have to explain that it's Erik, who he has been hiding… but I see her eyes widen, and I know she knows that it's my husband.

Erik can tell she knows him too, and a bit of odd triumph flashes in his eyes.

Erik… what are you doing?

Marianne attempts to recover herself with a vestige of grace. Bringing her hand out, as if gesturing to him, she says, "Hello?"

Her voice quivers, and Erik notices this. I see the corners of his mouth turn up, and I realize he has planned this moment for a long time.

A flash of hurt comes first, then fear, and then settles on anger as I watch him appraise Marianne. "Hello." he answers back, and he is using the full effect of his voice on her… he was only supposed to do that to me…

I can tell that Marianne was not expecting that voice to come out of Erik, and she reels backwards slightly, looking to me for support. My lips are pursed, and I glare at Erik. He gives me an innocent look.

"You…you must be Erik!" Marianne offers, going forward properly, to shake his hand. But at the last second, it seems she cannot bring herself to do it, and she falter inches from him, her hand halfheartedly buried in her other fist.

But Erik reaches out boldly and seizes her hand with a crushing force. I see her wince at the coldness of his grip, but she smiles—rather painfully, but at least she tries.

"How nice to finally meet you!" she tells him, her tone still over-friendly, her eyes still flickering to me. "I've heard… about you."

I know she must stutter over saying, "I've heard so much about you!", because I hardly mention Erik at all.

"Yes." Erik murmurs. "You are a good friend of Christine's."

She nods, and tried to pry her hand from his grip. He holds tighter, almost leering at her… and I snap, "Erik!"

He releases her instantly, stepping back politely. Marianne retreats several feet, and I cannot blame her as she comes to stand by my side. Her smile is a bit plastered now, and she glances worriedly at me.

In my mind, I know what he's doing… but I ignore it, and put my hands on my hips. He gazes at me, as if he cannot see the fury in my eyes, or the confusion. He smiles at me, and focuses on something behind my shoulder.

My heart sinks as Karl comes up the curve of the hill, looking for Marianne.

He gives his trademark little smile as he see her, and then he too meets Erik's eye.

He freezes.

"Karl!" Marianne says hurriedly, going over to seize his arm. "This is Erik! Christine's husband, who has been out of town! He's come to meet us!"

Karl can't take his eyes off Erik, and he clutches Marianne's hands protectively to his chest.

I am nervous of Erik's reaction; but he simply steps back another step, away from the young couple. He waves his hand naturally, as if to tell them that he takes no offense.

I try to see Erik as they do, and I can—and I know Erik knows this.

What on earth is he doing?

"Christine was just bringing flowers back to your home." Marianne tells Erik, although she appears to have trouble meeting his eyes. "I must be going, now… Karl must want supper, and he couldn't cook to save his life, you know…" I distinctly remember how often Marianne tells me how wonderful a cook Karl is. "…So, I will meet with you later!"

Karl squeezes her arm, before throwing me a very furtive look. Marianne looks at me desperately. "I will see you tomorrow, Christine!" she calls as Karl leads her down the hill.

I stand there in horror for several still seconds, before I whirl around behind me.

Naturally, Erik is gone.

Leaving my flowers abandoned on the ground, I lift up my skirts and begin running up the hill. The snow is completely gone, and the sun is beginning to set. I do not stray from the path as I go, quicker than I ever have before, up to my little cottage.

I am terrified. And I am furious!

Erik cannot fool me. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, I didn't understand! Why had he done such a foolish thing! Prancing up like that, unexpected and catching even myself off-guard—he had done it all intentionally, I was sure. And he had frightened her on purpose as well.

I throw open the door, my face set, looking around for Erik. I do not have to look for long. He is sitting, perfectly content, in his chair in the main room. When I storm in, he looks up curiously. His mask is still on.

"What have you done?" I whisper, staring in horror at his calm disposition.

"She seems nice."

My teeth snap together. "Why did you do that? You did that on purpose!"

He looks down, and growls, "I did nothing. I greeted her how I would have any other. It is not my fault how she would react." He suddenly rises, his fingers clawing the rests on the chair. "You told me it wouldn't matter! That she would see me as any other man!"

He almost doesn't sound upset; rather, his voice has a triumphant ring to it, knowing that he has proven me wrong.

"If you had acted like a normal man," I retort coolly. "Then she would have seen you as such. But you intentionally frightened her! Why? Why would you do that?" I struggle with words. "Do you enjoy doing that to people? Does it… make you happy? Does it make you proud? I don't understand, Erik… You wanted my friends to accept you, and you went out of your way to make sure that they did not!"

His fingers are curled tightly into fists. "Did you see their eyes?" he hisses. "As soon as they saw me… before I even spoke! I saw their eyes, and I knew they were frightened. Nothing I could say or do would take that fear away! They judged! They judged me!"

"Because you were—"

"Ah, you're wrong!" he cries. "Before I spoke, I saw… and your redheaded friend tried to overcome it with words, with polite, cordial words… but Erik sees through words! Words mean nothing, in the end. Men can lie through their teeth! And Erik does not trust words from anybody, because words are not actions, and they mean nothing to him!"

"You should have told me." I say heatedly. "You should have told me you were coming!"

"You asked me to do it!" Erik fumes. "I was doing what you ask, and it still is not good enough for you!"

"You're twisting my words—"

"You lied!" he suddenly screams, and he is terrifying, both of his eyes glowing like the Devil's cackling madly and he spits flame and fire from every inch of his demeanor. I cry out in horror and sink 

to the floor. His menacing figure stands over me, and he laughs. I grip my arms around myself, stifling moans of terror, and he throws his mask at my feet before storming off into his study.

The door slams, and the cottage shakes on its foundation.

I am still frozen in shock, my eyes glassy. I reach out, tenderly, and gather the mask in my small grip. It looks awfully alone and harmless, resting on my palm. I stare at it for as long as I can, until my eyes are burning with it.

It is a silly battle, and I know he must have several more masks lying around somewhere… But I go over and quickly light a fire in the little grate. It is a symbolic measure, which I once thought he would appreciate… but now he would be furious…

He said I lied… what did I lie about?

But he was in a raging temper, a fit. He was not in his right mind.

He frightened them on purpose… and then he frightened you.

He's been acting oddly these past few days.

The fire crackles under my fingertips. I draw closer, letting the heat warm up my hands and face. I ought to move back, for the hem of my dress is very close to the embers. Morbidly, I imagine I have caught on fire—would Erik come back in to save me, or let me burn?

I shake my silly thoughts, scolding myself for thinking such thoughts. Very calmly, I throw the mask into the fire.

I go upstairs and bolt my door.

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