Chapter six

The tiny room that Meg was stuck in could not contain Erik's rage, he gave yells and screams that ripped through the walls and echoed through every passageway and corner in Erik's domain. Meg leant against one of the cold walls, and slid down it until she was sitting on the floor, curled away from Erik's indescribable fury. He felt his yells consume him and insults and curses rushed out of his mouth before they passed his mind, like a forest fire that was fuelled by Meg's stupidity. Erik kicked out at one of the walls, which he knew were not walls, but mirrors that magnified his rage endlessly. There was a crash, followed by a light, flickering sound. A million shards of mirror scattered their way throughout the room, tiny pieces landed like snow in Meg's hair and when she raised her head they leapt away like tiny glass butterflies. She raised her worried eyes to look at Erik. He was kneeling on the floor, the glass crunching and cutting slowly into his clothes, breathing heavily and cradling his head in his hands. Meg tried to sedate him with her words with the premonition that they would just agitate him further.

"Erik…" Meg had never said his name before. "Erik, I'm sorry." Her words contrasted horribly with the silence that followed them, she heard only Erik's angered breathing and her heart beating like a hammer against her ribcage. It was so loud she was tempted to ask Erik whether he could hear it too but she waited patiently for him to reply to her previous statement. Erik took a breath that told Meg he was about to speak.

"Its…it's not that. It'll only take me an hour or so to get us out of here, it's the mirrors." It was a relief to hear him say words that not only forgave Meg, but were loaded with a sweet tranquillity. She frowned in confusion. Mirrors? Where were the mirrors? Almost if he could read Meg's mind, Erik answered her thoughts. "These aren't walls, these are mirrors. Walls can't shatter." Erik ran his fingers along the jagged edges of the remaining shards of glass and as he felt a cut begin to grow on his skin he found himself reminded of the previous night with Christine. He let himself be pulled deeply into a dream, He felt her head on his shoulder again, her hand clasped in his and her beautiful body giving way to sleep. He felt breath on his face and a hand set under his chin but they were set in the present, Erik pulled himself away from his daydream and came to.

"Erik…" came a soft voice from far away, vaguely familiar. "Erik….you fainted, wake up." Said the voice again. Somehow, in Erik's mind, this voice seemed to belong to Christine and not Meg. Meg was stood over him, holding his head up with her hand, talking to him. In Erik's confused mind, it was Christine that stood there, speaking in Meg's voice. Erik raised a hand shakily to touch her face. Meg presumed he was just checking he was no longer unconscious and did not pull away from the feel of his skin on hers. His fingers brushed lightly over her lips, under her chin and then they swept down her neck lightly, Meg shivered from the sensitivity of his touch. His lips were moving, he spelt out "Christine" with his breath. She sighed inwardly and realised Erik's confusion. She reached for Erik's hand, which now lay over her beating heart, and guided it so that it rested in his lap. Meg recoiled slightly and made the decision to correct him.

"No, it's Meg. Erik you must be dreaming." She whispered to him, shaking his shoulder lightly to wake him from his dream-like state. Erik sat him self up properly against the wall and opened and closed his eyes several times, shaking tiredness from them. He dreaded what he may have done in those past few minutes, he had been stranded in a dream about Christine, and she had been exactly where Meg sat. Every sense in the dream had seemed real, the feel of flesh beneath his fingers, of silky lips that he had traced with the very tips of his hands, a chest that heaved with nervous breathing and a heartbeat that skipped like a ballerina . So real and so wonderful he felt as if he had held every emotion possible in his two hands.

- - - -

A beam of light filled the corridor that Christine entered, it seared her eyes as a welcome change from the dim candle she had been carrying for the rest of her journey to the surface. She was unaware that she walked alone though, Meg and Christine had begun their walk in silence and Christine felt no need to change the atmosphere, her mind was riddled with thoughts that she needed to make sense of and silence served her perfectly.

The mirror shifted to the side when Christine attempted to prise it open, the moment she stepped into the room she was swept off her feet and into Raoul's desperate arms.

He had waited there since sunrise, his eyes burning through the mirror. He had longed to know what Christine was doing and he had torn himself apart with worry, as the morning grew later he began to dread what could have happened. Raoul had never seen Erik but he was sure he must be monstrous, Christine had said he wore a mask to cover what was hidden beneath. When Erik preyed on Raoul's mind he was always without his mask, and images of yellowing flesh stretched over protruding bones and distorted features seemed to drive him to madness. He had terrible pictures of Christine cowering away from Erik's cold dead hands, but in these pictures, Erik never failed to find Christine and she was tortured for every moment she remained underground. Raoul had been running one of the most gruesome of these scenarios through his mind when Christine had appeared before him. Relief swept over him and he embraced Christine, holding her so she could not be taken away again, even if she wished to go he would not let her! He kissed her on the lips, not caring for what she would think of his forwardness. Christine laughed at him, mocking his worry.

"Oh Raoul! Did you think I had left you for good? I was going to come back, even if I died trying." Christine said happily, smiling fondly at Raoul's evident relief. He was so happy, to hear her bright voice and to thread his fingers through her thick, curly hair, and to plant kisses on her porcelain skin, he could not think of words to express his happiness. He regained his manners and stood away from Christine, surveying her health from what he could see. He took her hand and was about to land a kiss on it when he noticed deep red marked gouged into her skin, her hand was covered in them and parts of her hand were stained with dried blood. Raoul turned a sickly shade of white and looked desperately at Christine.

"The blood! Look at the b-b-blood!" He stammered, holding Christine's hand up for her to see. She lowered it.

"It was me! I cut my hand on a rose thorn…" she said dreamily, suddenly casting her mind back to the moment in her room. Erik holding her hand for what seemed like a lifetime and her not caring if it was. Seeing the look of ecstasy on Christine's face Raoul tried to deny her of whatever wonderful dream she was dwelling in.

"Don't lie! Don't protect him Christine, I know he did this to you. Why protect him? He does not deserve protection if he could do this to a woman." Raoul almost wished it was Erik who had hurt Christine, then he would finally have a reason to take Christine away from him, and also away from the wonder which she seemed to hold deep in her eyes whenever she spoke about Erik. There was a horrible knowledge that a piece of her heart rested with Erik, and that she could never really love Raoul fully. Though he also knew that Christine could not love Erik, if he wasn't there to love.