Sorry, sorry, SORRY! I'm terribly sorry for the wait! It couldn't be helped! My family thought it would be a fabulous idea to go camping without contact of any electronics for Memorial Day weekend! (sighs) I hope you guys haven't sent the dogs after me...(hears barking in distance) Shoot.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, repeat, do not own any part of Erik or his story of Phantom of the Opera...but I really want to! (gets Punjabbed)
Erik: (Puts away Punjab) Just read. (scowls)
Part Fifty-eight:
"Erik?" a knock came rapping on the attic door. Erik, who was lying on the divan that sat near the window barely bat an eye as he stared out at the street below with unseeing eyes. Rachel's concerned voice came through the door once again. "Erik? Answer me or I shall come in." Still he didn't respond but twirled the small, black mask around in his hands. Richard had given it to him once they had come back to the house, saying he found it on the chair Lark was sitting on before she left the Masquerade. He observed it detachedly. It was her mother's as she had said. He never did hear her sad past as she would always go glassy eyed which gave him shivers. When arriving back home, Richard, Rachel and himself had all sat around in the parlor, all was tense and silent. Richard and his sister sat on the divan while Erik had sunk himself into the armchair, ignoring their imploring eyes. What could he say? That he left his home under the Opera because his, -Angel? Student? Love?- had taken the one thing that kept him sane, that kept him alive and told him he could no longer live where he had spent almost half his life there or else she would send the police after him? A lifeless chuckle passed his slack lips. They wouldn't have been able to get past the part of him living in a house under the Opera in the first place.
They all just sat, and stared at one another, trying but failing to ask any questions at all about the disappearance of the little girl they all treasured. Lark. He had almost believed she was still around when he awoke that morning, with the clattering that came from below in the kitchen. She always…. The door creaked open and Rachel poked her head around the door. "Erik? You're still not getting up?" Erik stared out the window again but didn't reply. What was the point? Rachel hesitated, and then came in the room, looking at the mess of unusually blank music sheets around her family's old white piano. She had thought he would enjoy the old instrument, and it gave them a reason not to get rid of the familiar old thing. "You're not composing…?" She asked softly, picking up a scrawled out paper barely filled with enough notes to make a chord. Erik's eyes trailed over the floor to Rachel with a dead look that sent a shiver down her spine. "No." he murmured blankly. The woman's lips thinned into a slash against her face as she narrowed her eyes at him, standing up. "Don't you dare giveup, Erik!" she said fiercely, "Don't you dare give up on finding Lark!" With another glare she stormed out of the room slamming the door closed.
Erik blinked slowly, and then returned his gaze on the ceiling, the black mask slipping from his fingers.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Christine led the child back up to the room she was occupying, ordering a maid to help her undress to take a nap as Lark had looked exhausted. "She will be fine once she is used to her new home," she had told Raoul as he had come in from business. Her husband kissed her gently on the cheek and handed his cloak to the servant nearby. "I got some belongings for the child," he said, motioning to the carriage outside. Christine smiled, delighted. "Thank you, Raoul!" she chirped, hugging him briefly before walking outside to the carriage's side. "You got everything, wonderful!" Raoul nodded and joined her at her side. "I apologize if I left anything out." He murmured, glaring at the packages that were being unloaded by their servants. His wife just smiled at him and patted his hand. "It's alright," she assured him, "Lark and I can go buy other necessities later on when I go shopping." They watched the unloading in a comfortable silence until Raoul looked worriedly down at his wife, a crease forming in his brow. "Christine," he started, "about the child…"
"Madame!" A maid suddenly burst out of the house, face beet red from running as she was a heavy-set woman. "Madame De Chagny!" she puffed, stopping to curtsy quickly before them. Raoul stiffened, irritated on being interrupted. Christine, however, took the maid's hands to calm her and looked her curiously in the eyes. "What is it, Marsha?" she asked softly. Marsha huffed a little more but stood up straight and pointed to the house. "The little mademoiselle is calling for you, Madame. It seems very urgent." Christine's eyes widened with surprise as she glanced at her husband. "We shall see to her," Raoul said gruffly, turning to enter the house, Christine at his heels. Coming up the stairs with a sense of urgency, Raoul knocked on the hard wooden door of the child's room. "Christine…?" a small, timorous voice came through. Christine glanced at Raoul who turned back to the door, opening it slowly. "It is both of us, mademoiselle." He murmured, letting them in. Lark was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with fright. She jumped, startled at his voice and her eyes flew towards the sound's direction. "Where is the Vicomtess…?" she demanded angrily. Christine stepped forward as so the child could see her.
"Where is she, Monsieur?" she demanded again, her eyes still widened to the size of small saucers. The woman turned back to her husband in alarm, her shock matching his. Taking a step forward, Christine smiled faintly. "I'm right her, my dear." Lark's face relaxed, and then hardened suddenly as her eyes squinted down to small slits. "I-…can you come here, please?" she whispered suddenly, holding out a shaky hand. Christine walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed, taking the child's outstretched hand between hers. "Is there something wrong, Lark?" she asked. Raoul shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, gazing out the window with concerned eyes. The child didn't answer, but suddenly widened her eyes to their full extent and then gave out a choked sob. "It's nearly gone!" she gasped dramatically, causing Christine to jump. "It's leaving me! Leaving me!" Raoul's gaze snapped to the child's face in alarm though his wife remained calm, holding the little hand tighter. "What is leaving, dear?" Lark's face became wild as she struggled to get out. "It's leaving! I'll never be able to see-!"
Christine held her down, alarmed. "Lark, calm down," she tried to sooth the child by speaking calmly, but it seemed to stress her more. Throwing herself onto her face, Lark pounded the pillows with her fists, her feet pummeling the bed as she burst into angry, remorseful tears. "Gone! Gone!" she screamed, sobbing as Christine stood up, shaken by this unexpected tantrum. Raoul darted forward and attempted to help his wife hold the child down as she screamed and struggled with rage and fear. "Mademoiselle….!" He cried, catching hold of her arms. "Please, you must calm down and tell us what's wrong!" Motioning frantically to the maid standing, awed, outside the door, the Vicomte held down the child's arms in an attempt to flip her over. "Gone!" she screeched, tears streaming down her face. Christine's face was pale as she helped the maid seize the child's flailing legs, pinioning them to the bed. All of a sudden, the child's body sagged as she relaxed and she sobbed harder, shaking her head. Raoul and the maid released her tentatively as Christine held onto the girl's arm in some sort of comfort. "We're going to call the doctor, alright, sweet?" Christine soothed, sweeping the child's hair away from her sweaty brow. "We will help you, I promise." Lark nodded helplessly, her eyes looking nowhere. "I'm-I'm sorry…" she mumbled sounding broken. "I'm….so sorry….Christine." The woman looked at her with concern but her voice was gentle, understanding. "It is hard for you, and that I understand."
Christine ordered the shocked maid to keep an eye on Lark and to clean her up. Raoul glanced once at the broken child on the bed and shook his head sadly as he let both him and his wife out. "I will call the doctor," he said finally, breaking the tense silence. Christine nodded and was about to say something when the doorbell rung almost ominously. "I shall get the door." She said. Raoul nodded and headed down the hall while Christine made her way down the staircase, calling to the door. "Coming!" Her husband stopped by the window above and glanced out to see who the unwelcome visitor was. He was surprised to see a tall, strikingly beautiful lady around her late-thirty's with flowing auburn hair standing at their door with a determined, fixed expression. Looking to the street, a carriage sat with a lonely driver perched on top, reading the newspaper. Raoul's brow furrowed, but he left to call the doctor, giving the woman no other thought.
Dramatic and getting really sick of being Punjabbed! (gets Punjabbed)
Erik: Ignore the authoress. And review. (looks threateningly at computer screen) Or you're next.