September 8th 1892: Christine
I only had a vague recollection of how I had spent the rest of the day. By the time Philippe and I had come home dinner had already been on the table. We had eaten in silence, then I had sent the boy to bed. The fact that he hadn´t tried to argue had been a sign of his utter exhaustion. It had been barely seven o´clock when I had gone to bed myself, feeling as if I had done hard physical work all day. Jacqueline had thrown me a couple of worried glances, but at least she hadn´t asked question and had also held Antoinette back. Fortunately it hadn´t been one of the rare evenings when Raoul was home early.
Yet now he was there. I could feel him next to me in our bed. His chest was pressing against my back as we lay on our sides, and his arm was wrapped protectively around my waist. It was our favourite position of sleeping and made me feel incredibly close to him. But his presence wasn´t the reason for me waking up. It hadn´t been a nightmare either, though I occasionally still had them.
No, the reason why my eyes snapped open and I lay in the dark, panting as if I had just run a mile, was that I suddenly remembered everything that had happened this afternoon. All the scenes, every little detail, appeared in my head at once, struggling for space: two bodies on a table… a passionate kiss… a wart.. Erik´s smirk… water running down my throat… my son with a book… my hands wandering over Erik´s back… The garishly bright images were tumbling over each other, sometimes moving slowly enough to observe them carefully, then speeding up again. It made me feel slightly dizzy, and I had to close my eyes.
A moment later the voices started echoing through my head: "Once upon a time there was" … "I swear." … "It seems that the shock makes my dear countess forget her manners." … "They are not dead, Maman." … "I forgot that you´ve never done it… or have you?" … "No, I haven´t." … "I want you." … "I want you." … "I WANT YOU!". The last sentence had been so loud in my mind that I was afraid it could have woken up my husband, but he didn´t budge.
I had told Erik that I wanted him. The realisation hit me like a blow with a hammer, and I inhaled sharply as the voices gave way to questions: What would Erik think of me now? Would he dismiss it as a side effect of his stupid sedative? Or would he assume that I had truly meant it? Merely recalling how I had acted made me blush. I had behaved like a bitch on heat. I had touched and kissed his shamelessly, and if he hadn´t made me stop… Hastily I forbade myself to finish the thought.
With a little sigh I turned around and opened my eyes to face Raoul. When he was sleeping he didn´t look much older than Philippe. His boyish features were soft, and I couldn´t help running my finger over his cheek. Now he did stir. "Christine?", he mumbled, blinking. "Is something wrong?" "No, no.", I assured him, petting his hair the way I did it with our son when he had a nightmare. "I just need to go to the bathroom. Go back to sleep, will you?" He nodded slightly, his eyes already closed again. "I love you…", he breathed. "I love you, too…", I gave back. I pressed a kiss to his forehead and got up as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb him a second time.
I hadn´t really intended to go to the bathroom, but now that I had said so I could as well do it. Tiptoeing around the bed I stumbled over something lying on the floor. When I picked it up I realised that it was my handbag and took it with me. There was no reason for this action; I simply had the feeling that it was the right thing to do. With my other hand I grabbed a candlestick, lighting the candle as soon as I was out of the room.
Quickly I marched down the corridor. It was perfectly quiet, so quiet that it was almost creepy. I was glad when I reached the bathroom. As I placed the handbag and the candlestick on the little table next to the washbasin I wondered why I had brought the former with me. It had been like a strange urge… then everything fell into place. Erik´s letter! I found it almost immediately. The envelope was slightly crumpled, but at least I hadn´t torn it in my carelessness. Cautiously I smoothed it out. Then I opened it.
My dear Christine,
by the time you read this letter you´ve probably come to your senses. I hope that both your physical and your mental state are back to normal and you remember what has been going on.
Firstly I apologise for having exposed you to the sight of dead bodies in general and your cook and coachman in particular. The latter was a tragic coincidence, still I feel responsible for it in a way.
But most of all I have to apologise for what I´ve done to you afterwards. I shouldn´t have given you my sedative without having made sure it was harmless, but I can only repeat that the effect it had on you wasn´t intended. Even I wouldn´t sink that low to drug you, just because I want to know what it´s like to experience physical affection… or any affection at all.
Your kisses and your touches meant everything to me. However, I´m not too blinded by love to see that it was wrong of me to receive them. I know I should have stopped you sooner, but I couldn´t. I am weak, Christine, even though you possibly still believe the opposite. I apologise for everything that has happened between us and hope that your husband´s loving caresses will erase the memories sooner or later. I, on the other hand, will lock them away in a special corner of my heart, so that I can take them out when my life become too dark to bear.
You probably wonder how you´ll ever be able to look at me again without feeling the urge to kill me. The answer is very simple: You´ll never have to look at me again. Philippe knows the way down to my lair by now, so that I don´t have to fetch him. There´s no need to be worried about traps either. I can switch them on and off from my home; they won´t be on when the boy is on his way. I´ll also make sure that he gets to the coach in the afternoon.
Of course I could understand it if you didn´t want him to come close to me again. But I can assure you that your son will never be harmed. I like him far too much to let anything happen to him. Besides, he is my heir. I don´t know how much time I have left till Hell will devour me, but I sense it will be soon.
Still I want you to take your time thinking about everything. You can send Philippe to me whenever you please: tomorrow, in a few days, next week – I´ll be there. Just tell him to regard it as a little holiday, so that he won´t get worried. He´s such a sensitive boy.
After all the lies I´ve told you over the years I don´t expect you to trust that my apologies are sincere and to accept them. But if you do, you´d make me very happy… even though a monster like me doesn´t deserve happiness, of course. Yes, I know what you said about me, and I don´t blame you. You were right. I am a monster… but a monster who loves you with every bit of his heart.
ErikI read the letter once, twice, then a third time. Yet still a lot of things didn´t make any sense. I couldn´t tell whether it was because I was tired or because Erik had been confused while writing it. Probably both assumptions were correct. All I knew at the moment was that even though I wanted to think about the letter, I was growing sleepier by the second. Given the fact that it was the middle of the night that wasn´t surprising.
Realising that the candle had almost burnt down completely anyway I made my way back to the bedroom. Raoul was lying on his back now, his long arms spread out over most of the pillows. I pushed him aside a little, so that I could crawl under the blanket with being tangled in his limbs. Somehow I couldn´t bear physical contact now, neither with my husband nor with anyone else. However, I was grateful for his soft snoring. It made the quiet and the darkness slightly less oppressive.