August 6th – August 7th 1892: Christine
I had never been this furious in my life. "Do you think I won´t do it?", I hissed, increasing the pressure of the pistol against his bony chest. He gasped, probably both in shock and in pain. "I can assure you that I know how it is done.", I went on. In the first few months after our wedding, when Raoul had still been very anxious that Erik might try to take revenge on him, he had bought the weapon I was presently holding in my hand and showed me how to use it as well. At that time I hadn´t seriously believed I´d ever need it.
"Christine… Don´t do something you´ll regret later!", Erik warned me. His gaze darted from my face to the pistol and back. "Do you have any idea how loud a shot would be? It would alert Philippe in no time, and how would you explain to your son that there´s a dead body lying at your feet?" How could he still argue this rationally? Any why, for Heaven´s sake, was he always right?
A slight change, maybe a softening of my features, seemed to give him new hope for his voice grew stronger as he continued: "I don´t care about my life. If I can´t have the boy, it´s worthless anyway. But I don´t want him to see things like corpses at such an early age. It would haunt him for the rest of his life, and every year at his birthday he´d be reminded of it.".
Then he stopped, and his eyes bored into mine while he waited, an accused who had spoken his last words and was ready to accept the judge´s sentence. I had forgotten how incredibly beautiful those eyes were, and seeing them so close was startling. Suddenly I remembered that briefly after our first meeting, when I had been just a little in love with him, I had wished for our future children to inherit his eyes. This tiny, insignificant memory made me recall that the man standing inches away hadn´t always been a heartless monster for me. Once he had been my teacher, my friend, my confidant. He had meant more to me than any other person in the world.
I glanced down at my hand holding the pistol so firmly that the knuckles had turned white. Was this really still me, on the verge of shooting someone, of taking someone´s life? In this moment I knew I´d never be able to do it. I let my arm sink, and the pistol fell to the floor like a useless piece of metal. A second later I had joined it, slumping down as if I hadn´t had a single bone left in my body. At last the constant tension of the last minutes, of the last years was gone, replaced by a huge sadness. I tried to pull myself together, but couldn´t help covering my face with my hands and sobbing like a little girl.
Strong arms were wrapped around me, and without opening my eyes I knew that Erik was kneeling next to me and tried to comfort me. I could also smell him. It was an earthy, musty scent, combined with just a hint of cologne. I remembered it so very well. "Erik…", I breathed. "Sh…", he muttered soothingly. "Don´t say anything now! Your soul needs to recover first."
So I continued crying, leaning against his terribly thin body with all my weight. I cried and cried till his shirt had absorbed every tear. Then I straightened up to look at him. My eyes were hurting slightly, bit it was strangely pleasant, as if for some reason I could be sure those had been the last tears I had shed for a long time. "I´m sorry.", I mumbled. "I´m acting like a stupid child…"
"No, Christine.", he contradicted me. His voice sounded choked. If I hadn´t known better, I´d have thought he held back tears. "I am the one who has to apologise.", he went on. "You´re only in this state because of me. I controlled you for all those years. But you have to believe me that I´ve only done all this to see you happy. I wanted you to lead a perfect life. You deserve a perfect home, perfect dresses, prefect children… and a perfect husband." Now I could clearly see the suspicious moisture in his eyes.
Desperately I tried to get out a certain question, yet the words seemed to be stuck in my throat. Finally I managed to whisper: "Erik, do you still… love me?". Whatever response I might have expected, this one came as a complete surprise. He let go of me and stood up abruptly, almost as if touching me had burnt him all of a sudden. I staggered and would have fallen forwards if I hadn´t stretched out my arms at the last second.
"Of course I do.", he snarled, glancing down at me scornfully. "I´m not as fickle as you are. My feelings are eternal. Do you really think 3707 days of you being married to that fool can change them?" I was truly impressed. "You… you counted the days?", I asked shyly. "Well, it´s not as if I had had anything better to do.", he hissed. With those words he marched over to the cabinet and took out a glass and a bottle containing a brown liquid, probably the sherry I had refused earlier.
Even from my place on the floor I could see the determination in his strides, in the way he brought the glass to the table and settled down again. I knew this topic was finished, and no matter how confused it had made me, I´d have to deal with it myself. Slowly I came to my feet as well, went to the sofa and sat down. There were many things I´d have liked to talk to him about, but I didn´t dare start the conversation again.
Eventually it was he who did it, in a business-like voice. "What about the boy now?" "You cannot take him away from me, Erik! Please…", I instantly pleaded. I had a bit more hope than the last time I had done so. He had shown that he still had feelings for me. Would he really try to hurt me? ´What a stupid question is that?´, a small voice in my head whispered. ´Five minutes ago you tried to kill him…´ Nevertheless I continued: "Philippe needs me and the rest of his family… and his home… and his friends. You said you liked him, so you surely don´t want him to become unhappy, do you?".
Erik took a sip of his drink and stared into space while moment after moment passed agonisingly slowly. It was perfectly quiet in the room, so quiet that I jumped as the clock struck midnight. I didn´t know if the sound had startled him as well or he was simply finished pondering, but at last he looked over at me, his gaze so intense that a shiver ran down my spine. "What would you think about a bargain?", he asked. "What kind of bargain?", I muttered suspiciously.
"I heard you want to start with your son´s education as soon as you´ve found a good teacher.", he stated. I nodded hesitantly. "What if I became his teacher? I can show him everything you wish for him to know… and much, much more. I can open a new world for him!" "And how should I tell Raoul about it?", I wanted to know, interrupting his sudden enthusiasm. He shook his head impatiently. "Not at all.", he replied flatly. "You just have to tell him that it´s no longer necessary to search for a teacher because you have already employed the perfect one. The education will take place in my house most of the time, so that he won´t see me, even on the rare occasion when he´s home."
In a gesture I couldn´t quite understand he placed his hand on my upper arm for a few moments. When he spoke again it was less controlled and far more urgent. "I´m an old man, Christine. Can´t you comprehend that I don´t want all my knowledge lost for good once I don´t walk on earth anymore? Your boy can inherit my whole realm, but till it happens he´ll stay with you. And I…" He hesitated for a second and cleared his throat. "I´d have someone else I could love. Maybe he´d even like me a little…"
I swallowed hard, trying to keep tears of pity from welling up in my eyes. Hadn´t I thought the time for crying was over? Apparently I had been wrong. He stretched out his hand, and I shook it. "All right.", I muttered. "But… you won´t teach him how to kill." Whether he hadn´t heard me or chose to ignore my words, I couldn´t tell. I felt an uneasy feeling rise in my throat. Involuntarily my gaze wandered to the pistol lying on the floor next to the door. At least I was sure that decision had been right.