Chapter 7
Max stirred in her sleep. She dreamt that she was on the boat she had seen Christine rowing across Erik's lake. Blood replaced the water in the lake. Max was rowing furiously to try to get to the shore that led to the Rue Scribe, where Christine and William were standing, beckoning to her. But she couldn't move! The boat was tied with an endless rope that led to Erik's skeletal hands, who was laughing maniacally while slowly pulling Max to his shore. She tried to scream for help from William and Christine, but her voice was gone. She looked back at Erik and saw that he didn't have a mask on.
Max woke with a yelp and sat up on the bed. She looked around at the room she had found herself in yesterday. Her heart was racing in her throat like the wings of a trapped hummingbird. Three taps at the door made her jump, nearly falling out of the bed.
"Yes?" She gasped, as she regained her composure. Erik's dark figure entered. He was laughing!
"Have you had a nightmare, Madame Max?" He chuckled. Max nodded, a bit confused. Where's Christine? She wondered. Erik crossed the room to a chair and sat, still laughing quietly.
"You are very pale." He remarked. She nodded again, unsure of what she should say. "Are you going to talk to me?" He asked, leaning forward and folding his hands neatly on his knees.
"I don't know what to say." She replied, trying to force a laugh.
"Ah. Well, I can't keep you in this room forever. You are free to wander my house. But beware, do not touch anything." Erik's humor had gone, and the seriousness of his voice sent a chill down Max's spine. He then stood and left the room, leaving the door open for her. She stood and went into the bathroom to wash her face and comb her hair the best she could without the use of a mirror. After she thought she looked half-way decent, she tentatively left the room through the door Erik had left open.
There was a large pipe organ on one side of the wall, and a coffin in the center of the strange room. Thin, black gauze draped over the coffin, like they would do at a formal funeral. There was also a small table with two chairs. Candles dotted the room, lighting the gloomy darkness with their flames. Erik was sitting on the organ stool, watching Max with a cold intensity.
"A coffin?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That is where I sleep. To remind me of the other dreamless sleep which mankind fears so deeply." He replied, gesturing to the coffin with a relaxed hand. Max found comfort in the gesture and sighed with relief.
A question was itching at the back of her mind, and she couldn't resist the need to ask it.
"Where is Mademoiselle Daae?" She asked, quietly. Erik pointed and looked up.
"She is where she belongs; on stage, fascinating the audience with her magnificent voice." He replied. Max caught on to a hint of sadness in his voice. She sighed and looked around the room again.
"Are the cobwebs and dust for decoration?" She teased with light humor, hoping she wouldn't upset him. He looked around the room and nodded slightly.
"They are a good touch, are they not?"