Erik awoke, the memory of the nights sweet dreams floating lethargically throughout his mind. He looked over to his little protégé with a lazy smile spread across his face, but she was not there. Erik jumped up off the bed with ease from lying atop the covers, respecting his little protégé's privacy. He found her on the floor next to the bed, violently shaking and turning, groans filling the silent air. His shakes were not effective in waking her up, so, he gathered her into his arms, and she fought him the whole way. So he rubbed her head, spilling soothing words into her ear.
She woke with a scream, and when she saw her angel before her, she broke down into a heaving, sobbing lump of a human. Confusion filled Erik as he sat, dumbfounded and bewildered at her sudden extreme behavior.
"He tried to get me. He caught me and he… he… oh, angel!!" Erik huddled her closer as she cried more into his shirt. Suddenly he understood what was occurring. She had a dream about that abusive block headed stage hand. That dirty, filthy, lowly excuse for a man, deserved his fate of the Punjab, and Erik was glad that it was by his hands. Maybe next time the mangers of his Opera House will be careful in choosing their stagehands, making sure that they are not drunk perverts!
"Shh. . . Mollia it was just a dream. That man will never touch you again. I will protect you. Please do not cry. It pains me to see those beautiful eyes shed those sorrowful and frightened tears. I want to see those exquisite eyes filled with joy and wonder, and those porcelain cheeks dry with the absent of tears, not wet with the presence of them." His voice was sincere and she giggled after a large sniffle.
"You flatter me angel." Tenderly she wrapped her arms around his waist, as a child would her father. Not knowing how to react, Erik quickly detached himself from her arms and stood. Perhaps too coldly he stuck out his hand and spoke,
"I promised Madame Giry that I would return you to her world of light and deafness in the morning. It is already well past noon, and the managers will surely be looking for my little protégé. Come, you must shed you music upon the ears of those who will not understand it. Tonight, be in your room by nine, and I will come to meet you. Stand in front of your mirror when you hear three knocks at your door. Three no more no less, now come." Wondering if she had done anything wrong, Mollia took her angels hand, and let her lead her above, where she was bound to be teased and question by the ballet rats, and confronted by her one true friend and Madame Giry. Oh Joy… she thought as she was pushed through a trap door in Madame Giry's room.