I am a shivering mass of flesh on the damp stone floor of my black room. I feel identical to the first days after I gave up the morphine years ago, except I'm not dripping snot and puking. I have no idea how long I've been here; all I know is I ran from her, afraid I'd do her harm in my fury. I staggered in here and collapsed in a bundle of horror. I slept, finally, and when I awoke, I was as I am now: sick. Christine has come several times to sit and whine outside my door. I know it's not delirium, because I'd never imagine Christine as such an insufferable pest; no, this must be real.
"'Erik, I know you're in there." "Please come out, I'm afraid!" "I'm hungry, Erik, there's nothing to eat." "I'm cold!" "You promised you'd get me clothing!" "I don't want to die down here!"
Et cetera. I could almost hate her now, with her incessant bleating for her comforts, but it's my own fault. Who else has taught her that her needs are paramount in the world if not me? Shame on Erik for failing to dance attendance when he is summoned to Queen Christina's court.
Thumping. Clanging. Glass? Glass shattering?
"ERIK!! ERIK! I'M LEAVING, DO YOU HEAR? I'LL DIE OUT THERE AND YOU'LL BE SORRY WHEN YOU FIND ME!"
"EEEEEEEEEEERRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKK!"
I tear my tongue from the roof of my mouth when I try to speak her name; only a dry croak escapes. God, not my voice, what have I got without my voice?
"Erik? What's wrong?" She rattles the door. Now she pounds on it again. "ERIK!"
I can't get to my feet; I'm shivering too violently, but I can crawl. Rather, I can drag myself; my leg is on fire from foot to hip, worse if I try to bend my knee. Useless. I don't know what's wrong, but I won't die. He'll die for making me suffer–oh, I've cataloged every one of his offenses, inscribed them on my black heart. I'll recite him the litany as his life bleeds away. I unlock the door and fall over. Christine shoves the door wider, catching my shoulder. I groan.
"Oh!" she jumps and peers in; her eyes are not as good in the dark as mine. She grumbles something about a lamp and scurries off. I take the opportunity to drag myself out of the way, lest she bash me again when she returns. She darts in and kneels beside me. "Oh, Erik! I could have perished," she scolds.
She's preparing an earful for me when she realizes I'm shaking like a caged rabbit. "What's WRONG with you?" she demands. She reaches for my arm and draws back with a shriek. "You're on fire! Oh, no, no…" she launches immediately into sobbing and hand-wringing.
"Christine," I rasp, "bed." Somehow, we manage to get me to the bed. The poor child's sensibilities are stretched to breaking; I'd run into my cave both naked and unmasked. She tosses the coverlet over me with relief and settles beside me fretting.
"Erik, how could you lock yourself away like that? You could have died!" She touches my forehead and goes weepy again. My little bride is not much in a crisis. I send her off to fetch me a drink, so I'll be able to speak sufficiently to either settle her or provide direction. She returns with wine and a damp cloth for my forehead; having a mission is good for her. The wine is a great help, but not as much as her little hands worrying over me.
"Christine, I believe my leg is rotting–have a look."
"Nooo," she whimpers.
"Christine, I did not ask you. You have an annoying tendency to imagine that everything I ask of you is discretionary."
"I'm afraid," she whines.
"LOOK AT MY BLASTED LEG, CHILD, OR I'LL THRASH YOU!"
She bites her lip and draws the coverlet back gingerly. She lowers her eyes reluctantly and promptly faints. My little helpmeet, in sickness and health. On my own again, I examine the wound as well as I can, rattling in my skin as I am. It is fairly nauseating, I must admit. It's swollen so that the stitches are doing more harm than good. It's oozing, hot, and red, and if I'm not septic, god has suddenly decided he loves me after all. I pat little nurse Christine's cheek in an effort to revive her.
"Christine…Christine, come, darling, I need your help, please. Please." Her eyes flutter open; she's none the worse for wear. "I need your help, Angel."
Incomprehensibly, she bursts into tears again. "Not now, Erik, please!"
"Oh, for god's sake, girl, are you mad? Listen. I'm going to tell you how to make your way out of here." I give her the simplest way, right out to the street. "You'll have to put your wedding dress on, and take my cape. I know it's too large, but there's nothing for it. Wait, wait: I want you to make your way to the exit on my instructions, and then back to tell me you've got it. Have a look outside, child; I don't know if it's day or night. Run along now, you can dress when we know what the time is."
She dashes away dutifully, then chirps, and rushes back and throws herself at me. "I'm afraid! Kiss me, kiss me!"
"Shhh, little one; I've given you the simplest way. You can do this. Kiss me; go now." Her kiss is like her first. The moment she leaves my sight, I'm seized with an irrational fear that that I'll never see her again; I must fight myself to keep from calling her back.
She returns in no time; she must've run the entire way. "I'm back!"
"There's my brave girl…I'm so proud of you, Christine."
"It's half-eight in the morning, Erik." She helps me to the bath. "Does it hurt?"
"Run it hot, Angel, and fetch me the scissors and good sharp knife from the kitchen."
"But a knife?" she winces.
"Don't worry, my Dear, Erik has been doing his own doctoring for a long time. Look, now; I want you to fetch these things from the chemist, just hand him the list and he'll see to it." I tell her where the money is kept. "And don't forget your wardrobe while you're up there," I smile. "Go now; dress and go."
Once Christine's gone, I commence digging at my leg to remove the stitches. It takes doubly long because I can't stop shivering, but my little wife would never be up to the task; who else is there? I work in increments for as long as I can bear. When it's finally open, I fall back in my own faint. When I wake, the water's cold and I have to run another bath. I've only settled in and caught my breath when Christine bustles in with the chemist's package.
"Christine, so quickly?"
"I didn't shop for myself, Erik; I told the chemist about your wound, and though he gave me everything you specified, he told me it needs a doctor!"
"No, Christine; no doctor. It isn't that bad."
"I knew you'd say that!" she shrieks, running from the room.
I dress the wound and slip back into bed. Every muscle aches and I'm freezing.
I've just closed my eyes when Christine reappears. "If you don't let me fetch a doctor, I'm leaving. I mean, leaving and not coming back!"
"Go then. No doctor. I'm too ill to argue with you; just go." I close my eyes again. No matter; I'll likely die anyway. I don't want her here for that.
Suddenly, she slips beneath the coverlet and curls up behind me. Her arm slips around my waist and curls up onto my chest. Her tears are chilly on my back. "Sleep, my Angel," she sniffles. I am still freezing, but I no longer care; Christine loves me.
-0-0-0-0-
I wake tied to a strange bed, screaming. "CHRISTINE!"
Instantly the face I adore fills my vision. "Ssshhh, Erik, I'm here. You were delirious, my love, you didn't know me!" She brushes my hair from my eyes.
"Where are we, Christine; we must go home!"
She kisses and pets me as if I was a child fresh from a nightmare. "Yes, we will, now that you're yourself. I had to bring you to the hospital, Erik," she confesses.
"LET ME UP!" I kick and rage.
"I'm sorry, I knew you'd be angry, but I thought you'd die!" She turns her back to me, as if I won't notice she's crying.
I reach for her, but am thwarted by the restraints. "CHRISTINE!" In my periphery I spy an official-looking type. "YOU! NURSE! LET ME UP! NOW, DAMN YOU!" She pales and scuttles away.
Christine rushes after her. "Please, he's not delirious; you see he knows me!"
"Clearly he's dangerous, Madame!" the nurse huffs.
My wife attacks the restraints herself, to little effect. I am less capable of controlling myself with every passing second. Then, what should I see appearing behind my wife, but that boy!
"Christine, let me," he suggests.
If I wasn't flailing like a madman previously, I begin to do so now. "Let you what?" I hiss.
He glances at me briefly, expressionless.
"Erik, let me–" Christine pleads. The boy reaches for her, as if to draw her away.
"GET YOUR HAND OFF HER SHOULDER!"
"I'm sending for the police!" the bitch nurse calls.
"Erik, stop!" Christine falls to her knees, overwhelmed.
The boy climbs up and plants his knee in the middle of my heaving chest. I glare daggers at him, silently calling down every pestilence I can imagine. "If they come and carry you off, it'll be the happiest day of my life," he whispers. Then, setting to work on my restraints, he addresses my wife. "Alright, Christine, if you can persuade him to COOPERATE long enough," he shakes his head in disbelief, "you'll be free to leave with your...loving husband." When he's freed me, he leaps clear. Stupid as he is, he knows that this tiny gesture in no way wipes our slate clean. Anyway, it isn't me he's here for. Christine presses my clothes into my hands as I rub my wrists. I'm impossibly stiff; everything aches.
The boy avails himself of the opportunity to draw Christine aside. "This–this madman is what you want? Tell me again why you won't–"
"Raoul, please, not now, not here–"
"–come with me while we have the chance?
"Let me get him home, just let me see him settled–"
"And then what? You mean to say he'll just let you leave when he's well and strong again? Christine, he'll live; he'll make his way home! Come away, Christine!"
I step to Christine's side. "I'm sufficiently well and strong to kill you where you stand if you don't give way. Now."
Immediately Christine presses close to me; but she does so for his protection, I see that much. "You mustn't mistreat him, Erik; Raoul brought you here. I had no one else to ask for help–"
I turn icy eyes one her. "You brought him to my lair? You led him to my home?" I demand, my gut churning.
"I couldn't carry you out, Erik; you couldn't walk, you couldn't–" I see no love for me on Christine's face; only fear of the monster. She'd say anything to protect her little man.
I throw her away from me unconcerned; I know Prince Charming won't let her fall. Exiting the room without a backward glance, I gain the stairway unseen.
I can hear Christine until I make the street. "ERIK! Raoul, let me go! EEEERRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKK!"