The last weeks have been a blur. It all felt like some weird dream, and Erik had no idea where he would be when he woke up.
His last clear memory was getting ready for the opening night of his opera. After that, everything moved too fast. Had he really been on stage with Christine? Had he really performed the song he wrote himself in front of all these people? For a moment, he saw what could have been. He saw a life and a career that he could have had, but it lasted just a moment. Soon, he was transported from what could have been to what have been, to the pain and humiliation that he swore he would never allow anyone make him feel again.
And from then, what he never wanted to be. Erik never wanted to hurt her, but she gave him no choice. She betrayed him too many times, he had to fix it, it was the only way to fix it. Like the lyrics he wrote said, there was no going back. There was only one way to end that all.
Was it really only one? Because for one moment what happened was what could never be. Her soft lips on his.
Erik was having a hard time trying to know what really happened and what didn't. But this was not a dream, this was real, as he could now feel in his fingers the old fabric that covered the small couch. The scent of face powder and coffee in the air. The dusty smell of the clothes that were too large in his hips and too short on his legs. The cold floor under his feet and the cold water he threw on his face. This was real. The small house that had the same scent that lingered on the kind woman that watched over him since he came back to this town, with its old and simple furniture, and her late husband's clothes that she lent him, this was all real.
How long have Erik been there? He thought it were a few weeks, but it could be more. Madame Giry didn't complain, she never complained, like every time he made a mess and she had to fix it. That was how she was. Always accepting whatever life threw at her, not wasting a second, not holding grudges or crying. Erik admired her for that. Never before he met a woman so strong.
She wasn't home now. Both her and her daughter were at the opera house, working. What were they doing? Did they start a new production already? For the first time since that fateful night, he wondered about such meaningless details. Of course, Erik didn't want to think of Christine, of her irritatingly beautiful smile, of the shinning ring the Vicomte probably gave her and that she would be wearing proudly. No. Anything but that. Everyone should be celebrating now, right? No more notes, no more ghost. Never again.
Erik sighed. He decided to throw more of the cold water on his face. This was real. What happened in the opera house was not his problem anymore. He could never go back there. Did he even had a reason for it? It felt like home for some time, but like in every other place that once felt like home to him, it was all ruined now and he could never go back.
His eyes lifted from the sink and inevitably caught his reflection on the mirror. Erik forced himself to look. What a burden has he become. He didn't know for how long he was in that house but he knew he couldn't stay any longer. Giry had already given him so much, he couldn't ask any more of her. She had a stressful job, and a young unmarried daughter, and he could see by her home that she had no money to spare. He stayed there all day, hiding, drowning in his own sorrow.
Even someone as bad as Erik could see this was not right.
He needed to come up with a plan. A way to get out of Paris, of France maybe. That would be good. Where to? He needed to decide.
Erik sighed. He lowered his head, glad to take his eyes off his reflection. He was really tired. Of hiding, of running away. His whole life has been a huge game of hide and seek, and he was eager to give up now.
But he knew giving up meant pain, and possibly death.
Sighing again, he walked back to the small living room. He looked fondly to the couch that has been his bed for the past weeks. He decided to fold the sheet and move the pillows to a nicer position. If Erik was going to stay for a while more, the least he could do was making himself useful, even if just a bit.
He decided to walk around the house, looking for chores he could do to help around. There wasn't much, as Giry really cared well for her home. Still, he did what little he could. Washing the two cups that were left on the counter. Separating the old newspapers to be thrown out. Fixing the positions of the frames on the wall. Cleaning a small stain from the bathroom mirror. Anything Erik found out of place, he put it back where it belonged. And while doing it, he decided that for as long as he stayed, Giry wouldn't have to move a finger. It was the least he could do.
Erik stopped in front of a closed door. Meg's room. He hesitated. Maybe something there needed fixing. He could help. But it wasn't proper to enter a lady's room, this much he knew.
But it wasn't as if he had any bad intentions. He just wanted to help. It wasn't like he would read Meg's journal or mess with her personal belongings. There was nothing wrong with this.
Slowly, Erik opened the door. He was in Giry's room often, it was the one he used when he needed privacy as there was no guest room. But he had never seen Meg's room before.
The first thing he noticed was that it was a mess. Clothes were thrown on the bed and on the floor. Erik looked away from them, afraid of identifying what pieces exactly they were. This was a mistake. He expected Meg's room to be like her mother's, weren't all women's rooms organized and neat?
Wanting to focus on something less personal than Meg's clothes. There were two shelves, with a few books, little boxes, a couple of portraits, and other small objects. There seemed to be no pattern in how they were placed, so Erik was a little worried that by changing it, it would bother Meg.
One of the objects called his attention. It looked like a music box. He got curious about it. She wouldn't mind it, if he put it back in the right place, right? He just wanted to take a look at it.
Erik took the small box in his hands and opened it. It was not a music box but a jewel box. The lid had a small mirror, and inside was a delicate pearl necklace.
"What are you doing in my room?"
The voice startled him. Erik thought it would take a few hours before they came back home. It made him drop the box. Time seemed to slow down, but he was even slower. Too slow to stop the box from hitting the floor, the lid from separating from the rest, the mirror from breaking in two. Erik just watched helpless.
"Erik?", Meg called again. She was shocked to come home to find him in her room, touching her belongings. She was rightly mad, and a little embarrassed. But mostly of all, she was confused and curious to know what he was doing there.
Erik didn't reply. He heard her calling, but the sound seemed to come from far away. His eyes were focused on the broken parts of the box. This was not supposed to happen. He wanted to help around. Why did this happen, why did it always happen? Even when he wanted to do something right, everything went wrong.
"Erik, what are you doing?", Meg called him again. He was strangely quiet. This wasn't a good sign. She was about to call her mother when she heard a faint voice.
"I'm sorry.", it was so faint, so soft, that it didn't even sound like him.
Erik didn't even hear his own voice, he wasn't sure if he was really speaking. His hands were shaking. His eyes were focused on the parts of the mirror.
Every time. It was like this every time. He broke everything he touched, it was like he was made only for destroying. He was looking at the mirror, but it was not what he saw. What he saw were shards, millions of shards, covering the seats, surrounding the structure of what was once the chandelier. And he saw blood, and fire, and the knives and ropes were on his hands, and he heard screaming and fast footsteps. And he saw Christine crying and begging, and another woman also cried, begging to God to relieve her from this curse. He saw on the floor his mother's tears.
"I'm sorry.", Erik repeated, louder, sobbing. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to break it. I didn't want to! There was no other way. I needed you.", there were tears falling on his face.
Meg didn't understand it. Was Erik really saying he needed her? Or was he talking to someone else? Maybe he was hallucinating again. But he didn't stop talking, he continued:
"I needed you! You betrayed me. Where were you? You wouldn't even look at me. I didn't want to do it. They had to understand. They asked me to. I couldn't say no. I had no choice. I didn't want to!"
Not even Erik knew who he was talking to. It was like all his mistakes came to him at once, like a thousand fingers pointed to him and accused him and he had to defend himself, he had to defend himself from everything all at once. A thousand excuses tried to come out at once, his voice getting higher and lower in the middle of the words, they came fast but not enough. They still accused.
"How could I know it would die? How could I know! What could I do? What else could I do? I didn't want to break it. I didn't want to make you cry. I am sorry. I can't go back now. There is no going back. I didn't know he would die! He knew too much. They didn't obey. They insisted. She wanted to see me. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't avoid it. I wanted to make you proud. Why aren't you proud? I am sorry. I never asked for this. I never wanted to be born like this!"
"Erik!", shouted Meg. She was afraid of interfering, there was no way of knowing what or who he was seeing in his mind. But that was too painful to hear. His broken voice, so different from the certain and firm tone it usually had. Even if he had a reason to apologize, Meg didn't want to hear it like that never again. "Please shut up! Please stop!"
Erik felt his words choking him up. He never asked to be born. He never asked to be like this. He never wanted to destroy, but it kept happening, and happening.
And Meg's voice brought silence. It quieted the accusations. These voices were not real, but Meg's was. Meg was real, and she was there.
And now he saw the broken mirror. Only that.
"Meg.", Erik said, turning to her. She was there. He wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real, but he stopped himself. "I'm sorry."
"Just shut up, will you?"
He apologized again, but it was different now. Meg knew he was back to reality.
Erik kneeled down, taking the pieces of the broken box.
"I should not have entered your room.", he said, his voice now even. "I can fix this."
Meg kneeled beside him.
"I know you can."
"You do?", Erik asked, the words feeling a deeper meaning in him.
Meg nodded, taking his left hand in hers.
"I know, because you can make wonderful things."
Erik enjoyed the warmth of her hands, but he felt he had to pull it away. He shook his head.
"I can't make anything, Meg."
Meg touched the box in his hand.
"Of course you can. Don't you remember? You made this."
Erik looked again at the box. That's why it caught his attention earlier. He indeed made this, as a thank you gift after the first month he spent under Giry's care.
He looked at Meg, and she smiled at him.
"Don't say you can't make anything. You have proved me many times otherwise."
Erik nodded. Could it be true?
Meg slowly approached him. She put her arms around him, pulling him in a warm embrace.
Erik blinked a few times. Yes, this was real. Meg was there, holding him, hiding her face in his chest. He could feel the warmth of her body and the sweet scent of her hair.
"I'm sorry.", he at last mumbled.
Meg shook her head.
"You can fix this, Erik. I know that you can, and you will."
"I hope you are right."