Chapter 10
Max stared down at the picture, tears dropping steadily onto the scratched and aged glass. She picked up the handkerchief Erik had left and wiped her eyes, then stared at it, curiosity filling her miss-match eyes. She stepped out of Christine's room and into the drawing room.
"Erik, would you be so kind to-possibly- remove your mask?" She sputtered. She was watching her fingers as she messed with the handkerchief. She looked up to see Erik sitting stiff as a board at the stool. He turned around slowly to face her.
"What?" He asked, his voice distorted with cold shock and loathing.
"Uh, um, never mind." She whispered and turned to go back into Christine's room. She nearly jumped out of her dress when Erik's long skeletal hand was placed on her shoulder. Her eyes widened and she turned to look at him in the eyes.
"You want to see my face?" He hollered. She flinched and shrunk back as much as his hand would allow her. "Never ask that of me again! I've suffered enough torment for my wicked face!" He continued. Max could see tears welling up in his eyes and instinctively lifted the handkerchief to the cheek of his mask.
"Erik, I'm sorry. The way you looked at the picture of William, you seemed envious. I was only curious, a thing which I am cursed with." She whispered. Erik took her by the wrist and gently pulled her hand away from his face, and his mask. He looked to his left but made no other movement.
"You think you're cursed." He muttered. He lifted his own hand to his mask and barely pressed his palm on it. Max watched, intrigued, at how swift and smooth his movements were.
"When is Christine coming back here?" She asked to change the subject, only to realize that it could be the worst thing to say at the moment. Erik's whole posture changed at the mention of her name, and he turned to look back at Max.
"She'll return when the opera they are performing is no longer showing at the Opera House." He replied shortly and then let out a long sigh.
"How much do you love her?" Max asked, continuing the questions. Erik narrowed his eyes, but chuckled slightly.
"You really are cursed with a burning curiosity, aren't you? I love her more than music." He replied. She gave him a confused look.
"That doesn't make sense to me. You love her more than music, but not more than life itself? I mean, that's the normal response when asked that question."
Erik glared, his golden eyes blazing. "Music and Christine are the only two things keeping me from killing myself!" He answered, his voice booming.
"I see. So you think everyone you've met, besides Christine, hate you?" She inquired. Erik turned and walked over to the stool so quickly, Max thought she imagined it.
"I don't think everybody I've met hates me. If so, I would already be dead, but thanks to the Persian, whom you know very well, I'm still alive and suffering!" He said and leaned against the organ with one arm and raised his free hand to his head. He took off the mask and wiped his face with the other hand, the one that was at first resting on the organ, before replacing the mask and returning to Max. "It's very late and you've been out and about all day. How about you get some rest?" He said as he herded Max into Christine's room.
"One more question. Where am I to sleep when Christine returns?" Max asked before Erik could close the door.
"We shall deal with that when the time comes. Good night, Madame." He said and quickly closed the door.
"Good night, Monsieur Erik." She whispered and sat on the bed.
Max slipped the case with her belongings under the bed and rested her head on the high-quality pillow. "Heavenly Father, please let Erik be loved." She whispered before closing her eyes and slipping into a dreamless sleep.