Journal,
Trust. That is what I need first if I am to continue with my agenda. I do not trust him and, since the incident, I can only assume that he does not trust me. Fortunately, it is easier to fake trust than it is to build it.
Once she had made her decision, Christine's mind went into business-mode. Her conscience was put on the back burner for now. She would have time to come to grips with that later. Nothing else mattered except her mission and everything she would do from now on would be with one goal in mind. Freedom.
She began by picking the lock to her door when Erik left the house. When she had unlocked her bedroom door she went to Erik's library to fetch a book. When she returned to her room, she made sure that the door would stay noticeably open. Then she double checked her hair and appearance and settled down in a large chair with her book.
I picked the lock easily enough. Now, keeping a straight face through Erik's reaction, that was the hard part! I wonder if he has realized just who he is dealing with. Somehow I doubt it.
Before too long, she heard the sound of Erik returning. She looked discreetly over the top of her book, waiting for the familiar shadow that would fill up her door way.
For a moment, he just stood there in the already open door, staring. Christine pretended to be so engrossed in what she was reading that she did not notice him.
Finally, she heard him clear his throat to alert her of his presence. She looked up and smiled softly.
I had no desire to escape--not yet anyway. Where would I go? No, I just needed him to know that I could have tried to run but didn't.
"Erik," she said sweetly, "you're back."
"Indeed. What do you think you are doing?" he demanded. He had been caught off guard. The last thing he expected upon returning was to find her room unlocked and her still sitting inside. How did she get the door open? Why didn't she try to leave?
"Reading and waiting for you. Why, is something the matter?"
He gestured to her and then to the door.
"Oh, that," she shrugged, casually, "You were gone, I wanted to read a book, so I picked the lock." she said simply, as if it were the most natural progression of things.
Erik was stunned. What does she think she is doing? On the one hand, he wanted to be angry. On the other hand, he was thrilled she hadn't run away. She probably realizes she can't get past the traps. Then why would she work so hard to open the door? Maybe she doesn't like being caged up any more than I did… the usually composed, eloquent man was speechless.
She took encouragement from the silence. "I think earlier you said something about supper?"
"Yes… um… indeed I did. Right this way then."
He turned to leave but he stilled as he felt her hand on his elbow. He looked at her, searching her eyes for… something… he didn't know what. She blushed under his gazed and looked away.
"Sorry… I just… well, sorry, I didn't mean to be so bold. Forgive me, monsieur." she said nervously, pulling back her hand.
His eyes grew wide. She wants to touch me? What on earth is happening? "No, no… please," he said, offering his arm to her again. She took it without hesitation, smirking ever so slightly as she let him lead her out.
I can sense that he wants to trust me. He loves me, after all. He just needs a little encouragement.
Erik watched her throughout dinner, wishing beyond all else that he could see inside her mind. He had been ready to fall at her feet once again and beg her forgiveness. Earlier today he had left to survey the progress on the chandelier and auditorium. While he was there, he left some more notes to a few key people, ensuring that, once repairs were complete, Christine would take Carlotta's place as the lead in Faust and that no one would make mention of her 'extended vacation'.
He couldn't have been more shocked when he returned home. For one thing, where did my little angel learn how to pick a lock? If he had known, he would have built her door differently. Then again, if she could have gotten out all this time, why did she stay?
She no longer shied away from his gaze, she looked back into his eyes, his intensity meeting her softness. Occasionally, when one of them said something, she'd look away briefly, but she'd always return with a blush and affectionate smile.
What is she thinking about? What has changed? Is it my face… does she pity me?
He didn't really want her pity, but he'd gladly accept it if that was all she had to offer. He would welcome, with open arms, anything that could cause her to react to him so warmly (or, dare I say it… lovingly?).
This game has two parts. First, he has to learn to trust me. Second, he needs to believe that I trust him.
"Can I help you clean up?" she asked after dinner.
"No, my dear, I will take care of it. Why don't you go rest?"
Ah yes, I forgot, I've been up for more than fifteen minutes, I must be exhausted! "Erik, I haven't seen you all day. Please let me help you? Come on, I'll wash, you dry." she said lightly as she made her way to the kitchen.
As they finished up the dishes, he sighed and said again, "You know, you really don't have to do this, you are a guest here in my home."
"Don't be silly, Erik. I like spending time doing things with--OW!" she shouted, clutching her hand. As she was speaking, she had not been paying attention to the knife she was washing and ended up with a small cut across her hand.
In less than a second, Erik was at her side with a dry towel.
"Christine!" he cried out.
For what it's worth, my accident in the kitchen really was an accident. It just worked out well.
Taking the knife away from her, he snatched up her hand in his and began wiping the blood away with the towel. "Oh, Christine…" he moaned. She shuddered at the raw anguish in his voice.
He sat her down in a comfortable chair and told her to hold the towel against the cut while he gathered some supplies. With inhuman speed and efficiency he was back, kneeling at her feet, gently bandaging her hand.
"How could I have let this happen?" he said angrily. What is wrong with me? All I ever manage to do is hurt her!
"It's not your fault, Erik, I should have been paying closer attention."
Christine hissed and looked away when he poured a few drops of antiseptic on the open cut. However, instead of pulling away, she put her other hand on his shoulder and gripped it tightly.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered, wiping a tear from her eye with the pad of his thumb.
She forced a smile and shook her head. "Not anymore. Thank you, Erik." she said honestly and let her uninjured hand graze the side of his neck as she brought it down from his shoulder.
He shivered noticeably and stood up. "Well, mademoiselle, I won't keep you any longer. I'll be in my study if you need anything." With that, he abruptly left the room. Christine watched him practically launch himself out the door and it took nearly all her self control to stifle the laugh that threatened to ensue.
Actually, he needs to think that I not only trust him but also depend on him. He is a man after all, he wants to be needed.
"Erik?"
He looked up from the book he was reading to find Christine standing in the doorway. She had changed into a light housedress and her hair was down. He almost gasped. My angel!
He still could not believe she was here, in his home, looking so comfortable.
"Yes?" he finally choked out, more harshly than he intended.
She jumped slightly at his tone, but pressed on anyway. Looking at the ground, she shuffled a bit and asked, "Are you very busy?"
For a moment, when he saw her jump, Erik was afraid she might leave. You idiot! You've frightened her again! He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't run away and he responded carefully, as if trying to coax a wounded animal, "No, my dear, not at all. Please come in. Is there something I can do for you?"
Christine rewarded him with a smile and happily floated into the room and knelt beside his chair. She took one of his hands in hers and presented him with her silver hairbrush. He did not take it but cocked his head to the side in a gesture of confusion. She giggled.
"Will you help me?" she asked sweetly, placing the brush firmly in his hand, "I'm afraid my hair is getting too long for me to do this myself." She sat down at his feet, turning away from him so that he could reach the long strands of blond hair that spilled down past her shoulders onto her back. "Please?" she said again, hopefully, after he made no further movement.
A faint groan escaped from the back of Erik's throat when his trembling hands first came in contact with her silky hair. Surely there is nothing else under Heaven that had been made this soft!
"Perhaps I should cut it," she mused.
He stopped his ministrations and said adamantly, "No… Christine, you mustn't do that! You're hair is lovely. You should not change it."
She smiled and sighed contentedly, sitting back further against his knees. She actually had to keep from nodding off. She had forgotten how relaxing it is to have another brush her hair.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, she finally spoke.
"I made quite a mess of things the other night, didn't I?"
Erik could have laughed at the simplicity of her words in describing one of the more horrific moments of his miserable life. Instead he just sighed fondly and fastened her long tresses into a loose braid.
"It's behind us now, child. I can't tell you to forget what you've seen… I know that the sight will undoubtedly haunt you for some time. But, if you can try to not let it trouble you, I assure you that it is an experience you will never have to repeat."
I may have gone too far when I brought up his mask.
"Actually, Erik," she said as she turned to face him, "I have been meaning to talk to you about that."
He began to speak but she hushed him, setting aside the brush and taking his hands between her own. "My reaction was… you see… I think you misunderstood…" she took a deep breath and organized her words, "I was shocked, I won't lie to you. You have always been so very gentle with me… and then… I have never seen such anger, Erik. You frightened me, Erik, but not in the way you think."
She took another deep breath and looked away from him, turning her head just enough that the light shined onto the purple bruise that began at her temple and disappeared into her hairline. Erik gasped and touched her chin so that she faced him again.
"Did I do this?" he whispered, this fingertips barely brushing against the bruised skin. She nodded, but did not pull away from him.
"Oh, Christine… what have I done to you? If any other had hurt you this way I would kill him in a heartbeat. This… this deserves nothing less than death… I am so very, very sorry…"
Christine could tell by his shuddering breath that the man was crying. She moved his hand to the side of her face and pressed it to her cheek with her hand.
"Erik," she said, smiling softly, "It's not as bad as it looks. You said yourself, we should put it behind us. But that is not what I wanted to talk to you about."
She looked him squarely in the eye, pleading for him to believe her. "I want you to know that," Breathe, Christine… say it quickly so he won't see the lie… "I want you to know that the mask doesn't matter to me. You can wear it or not wear it, but I want you to do so based on your own comfort. I admit that I was shocked at first, but your face no longer holds any fear with me."
To prove her point, she slowly moved her hands toward him, taking the mask between her fingers and lifting it away from his face. His eyes clamped shut and his breath grew ragged but he made no move to stop her. I must see if what she is saying is true…
I don't know why it occurred to me to take it off him. But that is a decision I guess I'll just have to live with. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, at any rate.
He opened his eyes to see her looking fondly upon him. He could detect no fear or disgust in her eyes and he exhaled the breath he didn't know he had been holding.
Christine had also been holding her breath, but for a different reason. She remembered the horrors of his face and had wondered if she could control her reaction if she saw it again. Thankfully, it was not nearly as bad without her glasses.
They both laughed nervously. "There, that's much better." she said decisively.
Then, in a dramatic gesture she tossed the mask over her shoulder. However, the discarded accessory bounced on the floor, straight into the roaring fireplace.
Erik was flabbergasted.
Christine was mortified.
"Erik! I am so sorry!" She blushed furiously and buried her face in her hands. Erik chuckled. She looked adorable when she was embarrassed.
"Well, I'm glad you are so accepting, my dear, but you didn't have to go so far as to burn my mask," he said teasingly. She laughed then, and he reveled in the fact that he had caused that heavenly sound.
"You are not angry?" she asked, still blushing.
"At you, my dear? Never. Besides, I have more masks should you ever change your mind."
For a second they just stared in each other's eyes. Erik had the sudden urge to reach out and kiss her. Easy, man, that's too far. Let her alone. Go calm down.
Luckily she broke the silence first. "Well, I guess it's getting late. I should go to bed. Goodnight, Erik. I will see you in the morning."
"Yes," he murmured, the moment broken but still slightly entranced. "Sweet dreams, Christine. I will see you tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to go for a ride with me?"
"I'd like that very much. Thank you, Erik. I mean it. Thank you for everything."
I made definite progress today. Tomorrow he is taking me on a ride. I have a hunch it might be a test. However, I have no intention of running then either. No, I will wait and be patient. He'll let me go willingly. I am sure of it.
Perhaps I can convince him to take me to visit Mamma. That would be nice.
Until tomorrow,
Christine
