Chapter 4:

Phrase

"Some people never say the words 'I love you' It's not their style to be so bold. Some people never say those words: 'I love you' but, like a child, they're longing to be told."
Paul Simon

It's times like these where I appreciate loneliness to some extent. I don't have to see her anymore, don't have to put my first impressions on the line, and don't have to mess up repeatedly. To then face the nerve and horror of having her so disgusted with me. What could I have done to deserve this?

Ah, I remember. It's because of that damn boy she immediately hates me. It's about time to change the circumstances around her. This game is already being played quicker than I would have imagined, but may it be so. He might just die off when he can't keep up. I told him she didn't need him anymore, to sever them further, and hopefully it might not rebuild itself just as easily.

I knew what was going to happen next. It was time for fresh air, new scenery, and most importantly, time to play the cards a little more. I told the servants I had more errands to run, especially the maid named Anne who had most of the story, and she was also going to come in and change Christine's sheets while Christine refuses to come down.

I was very good at this, you see. Too many times before I've been told I could very well be an actor if it wasn't for one important factor regarding an appealing visage. Christine fell under it just as all the others have. I could very much see she was willing to be part of my charms, which have worked to my advantage several times like most people. Somehow, I wished she wouldn't. I love the fun of a challenge once in a while, and I thought that, of all people, she would be a little more stubborn. I was wrong. At least I was proven wrong.

She came to breakfast with a delightful little smirk on her face and a jutted chin. She obviously knew what she was doing which was nice to see, though I knew the little smirk on her face was to ridicule me. She didn't speak, though. Maybe she was scared to. She wasn't the greatest actress.

I'm pretty sure she thought I wouldn't think she would leave. But she didn't know that I knew her better than that. Her attempt was amusing, but it didn't work. All I had to do now was "leave" and watch her creative little scheme unfold.

A game of cat and mouse was just what I needed to get my spirits high.

I watched from the side of the house she complained about not seeing, if you know what I mean. I won't explain the entire process to you, but maybe some other time. Right now, all that matters is what she was doing and how I was going to stop her. Eventually.

She searched for her phone to begin with. She looked everywhere, into places I pointed out to her, and Anne had pointed her to. I have to admit that... I didn't actually think this through thoroughly enough to think of what she might find on her venture to find her missing cell phone. What she saw unsettles even myself. I never even thought I would ever show it to her, actually, because she would probably walk out instantaneously. Over time, I had my muse with some things, to keep my mind occupied when she wasn't physically close. So, I took her things. It's simple as that. They're things that she would forget about in the long run, that I wouldn't think she would care about but I would take them. It's that simple, okay?

She found her cell phone fortunately just when I had begun to think she might never think enough to find it. I knew whenever she was to see me again, things would be very different. I had to accept that she was now scared of me, judging by the way she looked when she turned from Anne, and she was very pale... more so than she already is. It angered me more than it should have.

To push it even further, she finally called her friend... I just wanted to assume they were only friends so badly that it hurt, but the way they were now talking-- her relieved voice and his soothing tone made my heart twist. When would she ever allow me to soothe her like that? To let my words touch her such as his did? I began to hate the boy then, and I've rarely even seen him. Whomever won over Christine's heart before I got to her surely deserved crucial hell, for it was like losing a race and not being able to win that grand , the loser would remain uncared for and left behind while the winner strides away with the fair maiden. It just wasn't fair.

My anger only wanted their separation to be driven even further down the drain. I wanted it to be uncleanly and just as hard as it was for me to already lose Christine when I just had her in my grasp. He could suffer just as much as I did, though I doubt he could suffer more. He has plenty of choices out there... why choose my Christine?

Anyway, I followed Christine and my driver with my own car. She wouldn't tell the difference from afar, and I made sure of that. They went to a restaurant in the small old city of Annapolis, and I stood there and waited and watched with their seats in the window, I could see every smile and every laugh that they both shared. Every single one of them tore at my chest, and the most jealous feeling was overcoming me such that I felt sick, and where "green with envy" takes on a more literal meaning. I could do absolutely nothing for the longest time until they both paused and looked to the tree I had climbed up to hide in, and I froze just as easily as I hid.

I could no longer stand any of this. I had began to wonder why I let her do this in the first place. I suppose if I didn't, she wouldn't have any sort of closure with her childhood sweetheart and she would never get over it. Until she realizes I can provide her with so much more than that insolent boy, she was going to have to understand and get over it. I couldn't have it any other way.

I called her cell phone and watched her eyes become dead and hollow at the very sound of my voice, looking to the boy nervously and excusing herself.

"Who is this?" She asked, her voice shaking and weak.

"You know who this is, Christine. You've disobeyed me after I strictly demanded you not to see him. Now, retrieve your purse and step outside."

"Erik you're taking this too far, I beg of you..." She pleaded, her voice cracking already.

"You have done enough!" I couldn't restrain the nagging anger at my sides. She was a stupid girl! Why would she think I wouldn't be there? Why would she think me that stupid? The look on her face... How I hate that look! She was a beaten dog! "Do as I say or I fear for your little sweetheart." It was an empty threat, I admit. I wouldn't touch him because then Christine would never, ever forgive me. I would be stuck with an empty angel in my arms... I would rather die.

"Don't you even think about harming him! You sent those awful text messages beforehand which was uncalled for and horrible of you... why are you doing this to me?"

Because I love you!

I only heard stifled sobs then, and words that I couldn't quite make out due to the damn service, and she was holding her hand to the speaker. I could only watch now as I then waited in the car out front, and what I saw is something I regret for even looking. Through the glass windows, and into the restaurant I saw the two of them, Christine's eyes red with tears and his awfully worried... And he held up her chin... And I witnessed the second worst thing than seeing that this boy was particularly handsome and pretty-faced and everything I hoped he wouldn't be to her. He kissed her and she kissed him back just as passionately. It was no innocent little kiss... a kiss on parting, a kiss on coming, no... Instead of revulsion, anger took the place of it.

She unsteadily came out of the restaurant with her purse slung over her shoulder, her makeup now messed up and at a complete disarray. I pulled her into the car against the force she applied against it. She stood no chance over me as of most humans... females particularly. But off that subject. The point was that her face was so red and angered she looked as if she was about to do something horrible right then and there. That was the same face I saw when she was about to slap the little girl away from her at her last foster home, a restrained violent urge. All that mattered was that she was now in the car with me, and she wasn't about to go anywhere except back home.

"Why do you do this?" She sobbed.

"You disobeyed me and went against my wishes for you not to see him." I stated indifferently.

"Why could I not see him? Are you jealous of him?" She spat disgustedly. I ignored it with all my power and gave her something that was more reasonable than what I was tempted to spit out.

"He doesn't deserve you, Christine," I stated simply.

I could feel her eyes staring directly at me, her jaw open in utter disbelief. She had so much more to learn...

"...What?" She gasped.

"Put your seatbelt on." I ordered. She did so obediently and finding myself not being able to piece much more together and talk in meaningful sentences, I did the only thing I could have done and lulled her to sleep with my voice. She groaned repeatedly in protest, but she had no such defense. She looked so much more beautiful now. No longer was her delicate face grimacing with stress and hatred, but a sincere and peaceful sort of air to her pretty self.

I drove home with the comfort that her arm was now sliding near the armrest just where I could reach out and touch it without bothering her... and I let myself imagine. And oh, how I imagine things... I imagined that it had been a long day and I was now taking my wife home... my wife. She was very tired so she fell asleep while in the car. I gathered my wife into my arms, feeling her delicate weight as I carried her into our home. Her head even unconsciously shifted over against my chest. My heart pattered so loudly when she did that, I feared she might wake or stir.

I laid her gently onto her bed and carefully took off her shoes. Cradling her into my arm, I pulled up the covers with the other to her chin. Everything I did made my heart skip with utter joy of simply being able to touch her without her looking at me with big terrified eyes, or simply disgusted and annoyed as my mother often had with me. Everything was forgiven for now, and I didn't care if she kissed the boy in front of me or not. It was I who has won this time, and I shall bask in the glory of it the rest of the night. This doesn't come often. I wiped her hair out of her face and watched her sleep again for most of the night. Despite the peaceful air, she looked very tense her face looking almost scrunched up and unpleasant. Oh, how much I wanted to let her be in my arms for once and soothe her wrinkled brow.

I couldn't really restrain it anymore. Every time she was mad, every time she told me how much she hated me, I could only love her more... she was showing promise of redemption from her depression. Maybe that term I give to her might make it clear and also an explanation of my actions... She would not be going anywhere. It was forward, yes, but I really saw no other way to explain it to her. I sort of hoped in vain that if I told her that I loved her, she might respond positively... perhaps. If she found out there was one other person, one other loyal guardian there besides her deceased father, she might take it in with open arms. However, I did just steal her from her boy... I sat there warring with myself while watching her sleep... it is a wretched thing to have two voices talking against each other in your head at the same time. Not a habit you should keep around.

It was in the early morning she began to awake after a restless sleep, her eyes searching the room sporadically as if it was new territory, until they landed on me and froze. I swallowed hard.

"Leave me alone," She moaned. That was the last thing to my mind. I had to state my story and be done with what I wanted to achieve here. No matter how harsh it might turn out to be, rejection was the first thing to expect... but it would all be true. And I would mean it... all of it. I've never been more sincere about anything in my life.

"I didn't actually think you would leave, you know. I thought you might have the right bit of logic to sense that you can't escape me.

"Did you drug me or something?" She asked quietly, once more ignoring her faults. It was a good idea at some point and her give something to have helped her sleep during the night, but too late now. I wouldn't do that to her anyway. Sometimes there's bad reactions... I wasn't ready to act as her hospital...I could never see her that way while knowing it was my fault.

"No," I answered lightly.

"Then what did you do?" She asked.

"You're very curious aren't you? It's not that complicated-- I sang thusly you fell asleep."

She didn't really buy it and looked at me strangely. "I want to leave. I want my cell phone so I can call Ms. Giry so she can take me to that foster home. Please, I just want some dignity..." She was begging me now. It was actually not what I wanted to hear at all. I was expecting more questions, but no such luck. If she has her dignity, is it not fair that I should maintain mine? We both win or we both lose. That should be the way it works in a better world.

"I'm afraid you can't do that."

"Why not?" She asked, her voice very small. She looked, once more, like a kicked, lost puppy. Her eyes wide, slightly angry and at the edge between wanting to do something about it and keeping quiet.

"You've only began to know what I can do for you. You can't leave me yet, Christine..." I explained slowly. I wanted to make her understand directly... I just wanted her to know everything without her being scared, and what I wanted was screaming to be let out. I had to take it slowly.

"All you've done is have me fear... I've never been so scared in my life." At least she was being truthful, I'll give her that much. I seem to have that effect on people. Either it's the mask or the voice... or maybe both. Strangers don't take much liking to a man in a mask. Thus the story of my life. But I had to accept that that was exactly what I was to her... a stranger. Nothing more, nothing less. Once more, if she knew everything, she would understand how I am much more than that. I've always been there, she just didn't meet me yet.

"I don't want you to fear me, Christine. I care for you very much and I would never ever harm you."

"You've failed..." She stated dryly, carelessly. It tore at my heart. I could hardly breathe. "You've harmed me in the most unimaginable way I never knew I could feel...And you know what else? I don't think I've ever hated a person more than I've hated you." She said that so passionately, this time with reasons on her side, I couldn't keep myself together. It was far too difficult, and this incident is why I know I should never do this to her again.

"Oh, Christine," Her name was almost like a reverie. "Christine, no, no... I've never wanted you to be that way. I'm so sorry... so sorry..." I felt warm tears dripping down my cheek under the mask. They stung. I couldn't remember the last time I cried... I suppose it's not an attractive sight- to see an ugly man crying which is probably why I've never actually cried that much. Christine, of course, wouldn't know how much of a horror it might be to her to see an ugly man crying at this point. She probably doesn't even know it, much less understand it. It's okay for now. I'll be fine, eventually.

I reached up to her face, curious to see how she might react... I thought if my voice was gentle enough, maybe she might let me touch her. But then, no, because I'm still touching her. God forbid. She let me hold her hand though, as long as it kept it away from her face.

"I will give you anything for you to forgive me... anything."

I gripped her hand tighter. It is so soft and small... and warm...while mine was so cold. It was like being cold for a long time outdoors until you step inside and when something touches you, that one part of your body is warm while everything else is cold and it gives a shock. It's a surreal feeling when my hand touches hers. Pleasant, if you will.

"Are you serious?" Her voice was surprisingly light and careless, once more. I wanted to yell at her and ask her how blind she was yet she would probably want to do the same thing to me. In fact, I think it's always been the case.

"I have my restrictions." I had to refrain from glaring.

"Like what?" She pressed.

"Name your desire, and I'll let you know." She really didn't like that either.

She asked about my face again. I really shouldn't be surprised, actually. I just had to watch myself from now on. Not like I was going to show her my face willingly. That would be something like Hell or maybe just earning me a spot deeper than what was already reserved.

Then she asked about her things in the office, which I didn't really have a legitimate excuse for so I ranted about her curiosity while she sat there looking like she was going to be sick again.

And then came the dreaded answer, the only answer I had hoped to give. It kind of slipped out. There was no thought, nothing that could consider the actions that were to come after that very sentence. I only knew that there was only one way out through her door and I could let her go. As long as she knew, and wouldn't scream and push me away, I'll be okay to die.

"I... love you, Christine." I said slowly, making sure I was actually doing the right thing, to get it off my shoulder, to let her know... I couldn't even look up to her when I said this because I was terrified of what could happen now. "And... I hope that... one day you might be able to come to... love me back, what ever it might take, just... one day... maybe..." I said quietly and instantly felt ashamed for myself. It was really a trying move. When I gave the courage to look up to her, she was only staring back, shocked and irrevelant. She now knew everything, and she wasn't afraid to question the rest of it.

"How long have you been watching me...?" Was it that obvious?

I didn't have an answer other than the truth. She wanted it. Whatever her reaction maybe later, I'll defend myself with what she evidently wanted. Judging by her expression, I don't think she wants it anymore. Lies are so much more beautiful, anyway. "A few months before your father died," I was ashamed.

"How did you find me?"

"I search for promising talent, you see, and you were in that musical with the community theater, and I saw you there with your voice... I longed to help you, but I couldn't seem to reach you. When your father died, you disappeared from my sight, and I couldn't find you until I found you were looking for a new home, I was more than happy to take you in."

That was only part of it, but she didn't need to know the rest. She gave that familiar look, surprised and completely befuddled. I felt bad for her for having to walk into this situation so quickly. I didn't intend on it happening. It sort of fell out. Like an annoying fly or a parasite that sort of gnaws at your bones until there's a vague nothing there except for the words about to spill.

"Okay, you were stalking me?" She began to back away now. Terrified taking a new level. She wasn't afraid, more or less, but she was mortified. The term she used was offending. She needed me to protect her. What horrors of the world could have befell on her with my back turned?

"I wouldn't consider it stalking." It was meant to be a sly comment.

"Oh, casually following, is it?" She snapped, and then gave a strange laugh, "Whatever," She was about to cry, though I could see right through her. She was trying to be strong for herself, fighting the urge to fight me away from her, and then at the same time trying to keep it down enough that she could understand. That's what I loved about her among many things. She tried to be strong, but it failed... and the best part was that she tried.

I explained to her how breakable she was, how vulnerable she was when she interrupted with a snide remark and then shook with her knees folded against her chest, trying hard not to cry, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. I shouldn't have done this. I should have just ignored her to begin with. Now what is she going to think of me?

She asked about Anne, but nothing really happened. It was honestly a good set up, and I lied simply that I discussed it with her, but no such thing went on, besides, it made Christine happy. Sometimes there's things we all have to sacrifice.

"We've set some rules down, it's all taken care of. You're not to worry for their sake, or for yours, as a matter of fact."

She looked astonished once more. After all, one must be punished for not listening. I've learned that far too many times. It was her turn now.

"Since you didn't take advantage of roaming the ground yesterday, I assume you don't need it. Therefore you will not leave the house unless it is my consent and willingness to let you out." Her fist began to curl around a pillow behind her back where I could see.

"That's not fair!" She barked.

"You'll learn, if not already, that life's not fair." She of all people should know. "Now, I'll let you know the other rules after breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry."

She looked at me, her fist turning whiter than it already was around the rim of the pillow.

"I don't want to eat with you," She spat acidly. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. She should have been grateful at the very least I wasn't locking her up again! Somehow she didn't understand the terms now. She tried to run, and I didn't let her go. It's simple as that. However she believes she could fight me is pitiful. I found myself about to do something radical, without even my knowledge of doing so. She turned away as if she expected me to slap her, which hurt. I wouldn't hurt her. God save us if I've even touched her!

"Very well," I tried hard not to do anything more, to yell at her... to do something I will regret later, but I've had enough, and I don't think she needs me right now. I locked her door, and called Anne to prepare her breakfast for her room .She was going to be in there for a while. If this doesn't help anything, I'm not quite sure what will.

I went downstairs to the music room which seems to be my only refuge. I looked at the untouched syringe idly, and then winced away. No, I can't lose myself with Christine here. Yet, Christine was being taken care of... Handling her was harder than any other task I've dealt with. Music without stimulus couldn't help anything except to lose myself, so I went through with the open opportunity.

It was a good day, indeed.