Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom in any way, shape, or form, and I do not own any composer listed in this entire fiction. All credit goes to ALW & cohorts, Bach, Handel, Mozart, and any other who may pop up in this story.
Chapter TwelveErik woke up on the floor next to his bed. He could tell from the shadows in the bedroom that it was late in the afternoon, and he had slept the day away. Strangely enough, he did not feel sore or uncomfortable from sleeping so many hours on the hard, wooden floor. He actually felt as though he had just had the best sleep of his life. No more nightmares. No more cold sweats. Something was different…something had happened to him, and he knew it, though he could not explain it. He stood up slowly from the floor and sat down on the unmade bed, placing his head in his hands.
What has happened to me? I don't even feel…like me anymore. And then he realized what was different within him…the feelings of loneliness, bitterness and rage that he had worn like his cloak—they were no longer at the surface of his conscious mind. In place of those things was…stillness…peace. He remembered calling out to God for peace, and apparently, God had heard his prayer. He felt strange…as if he were not the only one in the room. He raised his head to look around him, fully knowing that he would see no one there. But there is a presence here with me. I am not alone, Erik realized. He suddenly remembered the last words he had heard in his mind before he fell into a deep sleep: "I have forgiven you, and you are Mine." Who…who had spoken those words to his heart? He trembled as the reality dawned on him…God had seen his sins and had forgiven him. Can this be real? Is it true, or was it just a dream? He recalled the story that Father Michel had told him of his own life. He said that God forgave him and changed his life…has He…would He really do the same for me? Erik was unsure of how to act or feel at that moment. He knew that he desperately needed to speak with the old priest soon…he had questions to ask him that required answers.
He bathed and dressed for the evening meal and walked briskly over the muddy ground to the main house. The Laurents greeted him warmly and he felt at home once again. There was a brief mention that the family was to have a houseguest who would arrive the next afternoon. They informed Erik that he would be quite welcome to come and dine with all of them the next evening. He had simply nodded in acknowledgement. Erik was very quiet during the meal…more quiet than usual, and Amêlie took note of it.
"Monsieur Erik, may I ask you a question?" she said politely.
"Of course, Mademoiselle," he replied, chewing his food.
"You are different this evening…has something happened?"
Erik nearly dropped his fork. He stared at the young girl and wondered if she had somehow read his mind. There was a sudden silence from all parties at the dining room table, and he finished chewing his food before he answered. He chose his words carefully, for he did not want to reveal too much—but he did not wish to lie to the girl, either. "I…well, I...do not really know," he spoke softly.
"Are you alright?" she asked, wrinkling her brow.
Erik chuckled. "Yes, I am alright. Thank you for asking. Everything is fine," he replied honestly.
Amêlie was watching him closely. She could tell from his body language that he was keeping something from her. "Can you tell me what has happened?"
Suzette looked thoughtfully at her daughter. "Amêlie, perhaps Monsieur Erik does not wish to discuss this right now, in mixed company," she glanced at her husband. "Gregoire, I do believe that I am quite full from this wonderful meal. Would you take a walk with me out in the orchard?" she smiled.
"Suzette, I have not…" Monsieur Laurent trailed off, noticing the frown on his wife's face. "Oh, alright, of course. A walk in the orchard would be lovely." He laid his napkin over his plate and pushed back his chair. "You two go ahead and finish your meal. We will return soon," he smiled.
After they left the room, Amêlie repeated her question to Erik. He raised his visible eyebrow and sighed. "You are very perceptive, Mademoiselle Amêlie. Very well, I shall tell you, if you promise not to repeat anything I say to anyone else…ever."
Amêlie's eyes grew wide. She nodded at Erik. "I promise."
He took a deep breath. "Today I…I had a dream. It was like nothing I've ever experienced before…it was terrifying at first, but then in my dream, I…" he paused, noticing that she was listening intently, with a look of expectation in her eyes.
"I cried out to God for help, and…then there was a light…and then I woke up and it felt as though He were there in my room with me."
Erik paused, but Amêlie simply nodded, as if she completely understood.
He shook his head. "I do not understand what happened next…but all I know is that I believe…I believe that He…that Jesus Christ…took my burden from me--the sin that I have carried all of my life. I just…feel different."
Amêlie smiled. "You see. I just knew it! You are different, Monsieur Erik! Because He has changed you! He has made you a new creation in Christ, just like the Bible says! Oh, I am so excited for you! I just knew that He would do something like this! He loves you very much, Monsieur Erik. He always has," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
Erik was speechless. This child had more wisdom than many adults, he was sure of it. "Thank you, Mademoiselle," he replied, trying to hold back his own tears. " I…I do not know…if I have ever heard anything sweeter in my whole life than those words." And he meant it.
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When Monsieur Gregoire and Madame Suzette returned from their walk, they found Erik and Amêlie at the piano, singing a song together. Their eyes grew wide as they heard the voice that flowed from this dark and strange man. It was the voice of an angel, they thought. Full and rich, glorious and mesmerizing, reaching skyward in one instant and dropping back down to the earth in the next. They had never heard its equal. Amêlie's voice paled in comparison, but Erik sang along with her, as though they were one voice, his fingers running deftly over the piano keys. When the song ended, the Laurents applauded loudly and Erik and Amêlie were startled…they had been so lost in the music that they had not heard them enter the room. Amêlie blushed, and Erik smoothed his wig, nodding his head at them slightly.
"Monsieur, Madame, I have been meaning to ask you something," Erik began.
"Yes, what is it?" Monsieur Laurent asked curiously.
"Why do you not have a wheelchair for Amêlie?"
Monsieur Laurent paused and shot an uneasy glance at his wife. "We…have never…seen the need for one, I suppose."
"Forgive me for being so blunt, Monsieur…but, your daughter is fourteen, and she cannot be carried around by servants for her entire life, can she?" Erik spoke with a concerned and sincere tone.
Amêlie curiously observed Erik and her father as they conversed about something that clearly concerned her…but they did not ask her opinion at all.
"W-well, I suppose not," Monsieur Laurent responded. "We just…haven't seen the need for one yet…" he trailed off.
Erik looked at Amêlie. "May I ask what you think, Mademoiselle? Do you prefer to be carried or would you like the freedom to move yourself around from room to room?"
Monsieur Laurent interrupted. "I am her father, Monsieur, and I will decide when she is ready for such things!" he spoke harshly.
"Gregoire! Please, I am sure that Monsieur Erik did not mean any harm by asking, did you, Monsieur?" Suzette looked thoughtfully at Erik.
"No, of course not!" Erik replied, shocked. "It seems that I have worn out my welcome here this evening." He stood and nodded to them. "Good night, Monsieur, Madame. Mademoiselle." He looked at Amêlie and saw that she was smiling at him with a look of pride upon her face.
"Good night, Monsieur Erik. I enjoyed our time together," Amêlie replied.
"As did I," he stated honestly. He put his fedora on his head and walked past the Laurents and out the front door.
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Back at the guest house, Erik again scanned the bookshelf for some form of entertainment. It was too early to go to bed yet, and he was in no mood for comedic Shakespeare, after being lambasted by Monsieur Laurent for a simple, harmless question regarding his daughter. Apparently, I have hit a nerve, Erik thought sullenly.
He noticed several Bibles on the lower shelf and he chose one. Why would these people need so many Bibles? Only a priest would need such a collection! He snorted. He seated himself in the armchair and set the closed book on his lap. He ran his hand over the cover, contemplating where he should begin. He had not really read the Bible before…he had seen no use in it. But now…now things were different. He felt as though God were in fact real--real enough to appear in his nightmares…real enough to speak directly to him by name…real enough to forgive him for all of his crimes. Since this God seemed to know all about him, he thought that perhaps he could do some investigating of his own. He opened the Bible randomly, deciding that if God could speak to him in dreams, then surely He could speak to him through this book, which everyone claimed was written by Him, no matter what passage he read.
Psalm 139. Well, I shall have to begin somewhere. Erik read silently:
"If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."
He stopped. He re-read the passage over and over several times, trying to fully grasp its meaning. Never before had he read anything like this…he knew the darkness so very well…it had been his way, his protection, and his undoing…yet in his dream, God's light had penetrated all of that darkness, just like this passage was speaking about. He had never read that he was "wonderfully made"--that was the last thing he would ever have thought of himself. This passage actually said that God had seen him before he was ever born, and that He had even planned out all of his days. Erik was having a difficult time accepting that last part…if God had planned out all of his days, then was God the one who chose for Erik's life to be so awful? Or had someone else's choices made it so? He simply did not know. All he knew was that he was beginning to get a headache. His entire week had been out of control…nothing had gone according to his own plan. But perhaps his plan had been the wrong one, all along. Perhaps God really is in control, and it took my near destruction to get me to see it. "What do you want from me, now?" Erik spoke loudly. "So, you created me and it says here that You have a plan for me! But why did you allow me to be created in this way? Why did You allow my mother to do this to me if You really are the One in control of everything?" He was angry, his voice increasing to a shout, and he dropped the Bible and dug his fingers into his knees, wincing in pain.
"Can you not forgive her as I have forgiven you?"
Erik nearly jumped in his chair as the Voice spoke in his mind. "No! That is not the issue here!" he roared. "The issue is that You allowed her to do what she did!"
"As I allowed you to choose your own path."
He shook his head. Am I going crazy? Are you really speaking to me, God? But Erik already knew the answer. Yes, God had allowed Erik to choose his own path…and He had also allowed Erik's mother to choose hers. But He had been waiting the entire time for them to come to the point of no return…to where they would acknowledge their need for Him and surrender control to Him—the only One who truly knew the purpose for each of their lives. Erik had no idea if his mother was alive or dead…but he knew that he was very much alive, and that he wanted to do something with the life that he had left. He determined that nothing and no one would sway him from becoming the man whom he was meant to be.
A/N: Thank you to Opera Dove and MastersofNight for reviewing! Your comments are encouraging and helpful.
Thank you also to all who have been reading since the beginning, whether you've reviewed or not. I hope you are enjoying the story, and I promise to actually finish it!