I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, REVIEW…
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"Hi Mom, nice to see you again," Ember lied with a smile. Her mother had just entered the managers' office, absolutely livid and glaring at the chief of police.
"You said the man was gone," Mrs. Parker reminded the man, ignoring her daughter's greeting entirely.
For his part, Chief Jetter was sweating nervously under her stern gaze. "Please Madam, he wasn't there last month. We searched the cellars extensively and came up with nothing except that cave he must have been living in before."
"Obviously you didn't search hard enough!" Mrs. Parker accused.
"Madam, I assure you"-
"Your assurance isn't good enough!" Mrs. Parker snapped. "The last time you assured me of something, I let my daughter stay over here, and now she's been kidnapped!"
"That's not really his fault," Rosalyn tried to point out. "I mean, he can't control Erik's actions."
"As the chief of police, it's his job to ensure her safety!" Mrs. Parker argued.
"Madam, my men are searching for your daughter even as we speak. If they're down there, we'll find them," Chief Jetter declared.
"Like you found the man last time?" Mrs. Parker replied sarcastically.
"Mrs. Parker, please, you don't have to be so mean to him," Rosalyn defended the poor man. "He's doing the best he can."
"Well his best just isn't good enough!"
"Then what do you propose?" Ember shouted, fed up with her mother's complaining. "If you don't like the way they're going about things, suggest a better course of action! Let's not just sit here and bicker with each other about what's happened. We can't do anything about what's in the past, so let's try to focus on the present."
"We'll send in the navy SEALs, they managed to bring her out last time," Mrs. Parker decided.
"One brought her out," Ember corrected. "The other five ended up in a mental institution."
"Then we'll send in the one who rescued her before; obviously the others weren't stable enough to perform a rescue mission in the first place," Mrs. Parker said dismissively.
"Get out of our office," Rosalyn said. "I'm sick of you. Just get out and find someone else to complain to. You have no business in this at all. Lenore's an adult woman, she doesn't need her mommy to come save her every time she gets in trouble. This is Lenore's building, and Ember and I run it. As it's our business, anything concerning police and rescue missions has to be cleared through us. You serve no purpose in being here except getting in our way and being a general pain in the ass."
"Rosalyn Kendall! How dare you speak to me like that! I most certainly will not leave!"
"Chief Jetter, I'd like to file a restraining order on Mrs. Parker," Rosalyn informed the man. "I find she is repetitively harassing myself and my co-manager. I would be very grateful if you would have someone escort her off the property and make sure she does not come within twenty feet of the Opera House."
"I'm sure that can be managed," Chief Jetter quickly agreed. Calling an officer in over walkie talkie, Chief Jetter was half-way through text-messaging the restraining order to his secretary back at headquarters.
"You can't do that!" Mrs. Parker said in disbelief. "Lenore needs me…Don't keep me away from my baby."
"With all due respect, Mrs. Parker, Lenore's not a baby anymore," Rosalyn replied.
"I'll keep you apprised of the situation," Ember promised as the officer came in to take her mother out.
Shortly after her mother left, a female officer with her black hair pulled back in a braid was led in, looking very much bewildered. "Chief Jetter, 'ave you 'eard anything from Auguste?" she asked immediately, her green eyes full of worry.
"I'm afraid not, Victoire," the man replied sadly. He was good friends with the young couple, and had been responsible for the two of them hooking up. Victoire was like a daughter to him. "Can you tell us what happened down there?"
"I remember searching for any sign of life down zere…zen I find myself coming to with Leroy 'anging over me," she said. "I do not know 'ow I acquired Auguste's watch or 'ow I broke my leg, much less who tended to it."
Chief Jetter looked at Ember hopefully. "No," Ember said. "Lenore doesn't know how to doctor. Not that extensively."
"You don't think this Erik helped her, do you? Why would he help the enemy?" Chief Jetter argued.
"Why are you asking me?" Ember snapped. "Why am I expected to know the twisted inner-workings of his mind?"
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"So…where's Christoph?" Lenore asked to break the awkward silence that had fallen between the two of them.
"Out entertaining a lady friend," Erik replied, coming over to stand in front of her.
"Well, I guess he's having fun," Lenore commented nervously. Why did I have to make everything awkward by not taking the necklace?
"He must be, or else he would've returned by now," Erik said dismissively.
"Aren't you worried about him out there with all those police?"
"Not particularly."
"You know, I think you like that rat more than you like me. He's allowed to do whatever he wants, and I'm a prisoner in this place," she remarked.
Erik took her face in his hands and tilted it up to his own, hurt in his eyes. "This place is a prison to you?" he inquired fearfully.
Be honest with him. It'll only hurt him more if you lie to spare his feelings. "Erik…I have no freedom with you," she began. "I'm expected to do whatever you say, like a slave. I can't leave of my own accord. I'm not allowed to look through certain things, like your boxes on the mantel or that locked room. If you tell me to go to bed, I have to go to bed immediately or else you'll take me to bed and force sleep on me. You do whatever you wish with me. How can I not feel like prisoner?"
"Forgive me. I did not realize I was holding you against your will," Erik whispered. "I thought…I thought you liked being with me."
"That's not what I meant!" Lenore snapped. "I do like being with you, I just don't like not having any say in my life. I get up and go to bed when you tell me to, I eat when and what you tell me to, I wear what you tell me to, I go where you tell me to. I'm surprised you haven't tried telling me when I'm allowed to breathe. My life is run entirely on your schedule."
"Why is that such a problem?" Erik asked. "I do not make ridiculous requests. I merely wish what is best for you. It's unreasonable for you to stay up until eleven o'clock at night! Nine o'clock is a perfectly acceptable bed time, and seven is not an ungodly hour of the morning to be awake. Regular meal times are good for you, and I merely have you eat healthy. What is the injustice in that? Surely you didn't like wearing those ridiculous clothes of yours, all too loose or too tight. Those baggy clothes made you look like a pauper in hand-me-downs, and those tight clothes give the impression of a prostitute. Lastly, there's no point in telling you when to breathe, your natural survival instinct would have you breathe even if I told you not to. Not that I ever would try to control that anyway."
"But I like staying up till eleven and getting up at ten in the morning. I like eating unhealthy food, I like baggy clothes!" Lenore informed her sharply.
"Just because you like something does not mean it is good for you," Erik replied. "Take morphine, for example."
"No, I will not take anything for example. You're just trying justify my enslavement!"
"How quickly we went from prisoner to slave," Erik said, his voice hard and dangerous. Anger and a slight touch of lunacy glistened in his eyes. "So you think yourself a slave, Lenore? Awfully daring of a slave to confront her master, isn't it? Perhaps it would be best if this little slave took a moment to think about how kind and merciful her master is."
"Where was your mercy when Felix became incapable of fighting back? Where was your mercy when Auguste stumbled upon your torture chamber? Where was your mercy when you came upon all the countless innocent people you killed?"
"They weren't slaves; they were annoying insects, pests that must be gotten rid of," he responded.
"My master is a murderer," Lenore said softly. "Whether he'll admit it or not. He doesn't know mercy."
"Au contraire, my pet. Have I punished you for running away? I think not. I allowed that transgression to pass. Most would call that merciful."
"Most people would have applauded me for managing to escape and felt deep remorse that you managed to catch me and bring me back!" she retaliated.
Erik's eyes studied her intensely for a moment. "You wish for freedom? Then earn it, girl," he snarled. "To have freedom, there must be trust between us. I'm afraid that your little escapade during the past month rather diminished what trust I had for you, and it is up to you to regain that trust."
"How can you make that my fault? You scared me! Calling me your doll, and getting inside my head and changing my thoughts to center around you!" Lenore shouted angrily.
"When I changed your thoughts for those few brief seconds, I was making a point of how generous I am that I do not rob you of your free will," Erik growled. "And I called you my doll because that is what you are. My fragile, porcelain doll. I can't relate to you how I tire of handling you gently lest I break you."
"Stop it! I'm not your doll, I'm not just some object!" Lenore cried, slapping him with every ounce of strength she could muster.
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That did it. The hell with restraint. Her fiery spirit was so damn seductive. Erik threw her to the floor, dropping down on top of her. She squirmed beneath him, protesting her harsh treatment. That's it, little one. Fight me.
"Erik, stop it!" she shrieked as he began ripping his shirt off of her body.
"Why would I ever want to do something as stupid as that?" he replied. Finally, the shirt was off. Lenore had neglected to put on a brassiere and his hands slid over her breasts, caressing them delicately.
Lenore struggled beneath his hands, trying to push herself up into a less vulnerable position. She was unwittingly adding fuel to the fire. He pressed his upper body down on her, attacking her neck with his teeth, aggressive love bites to satisfy the feral state he was slipping into.
"Erik," she gasped. "Don't." It was a weak protest, lacking heart. "I'm supposed to be married first."
"Who told you that?" he asked, moving the attentions of his mouth up to her ear.
"God did," Lenore replied.
"Many people have sex before getting married; I don't think it'll be a problem," Erik said casually.
"But, I'm supposed to be married first," she repeated.
"Then marry me," Erik whispered in her ear.
"Right now? No church, no preacher, no witnesses, no certificate, no ring, no gown?" Lenore inquired. "No reception after, no presents? No dancing? No pictures?"
"That's all superfluous," Erik replied. "And a reception only serves to delay the wedding night."
"Gee, do you only wanna marry me for sex?"
"It's certainly one of the perks."
"You're rotten," she chuckled.
Erik's mouth slowly made its way back down her neck to her collarbone, while his hands slid down towards her hips to remove her underwear.
"Stop," she protested again. "We're not married."
"Fuck marriage," he hissed, taking her right breast into his mouth and sucking gently.
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"Oh God," Lenore moaned when he switched over to her left breast. The thought of just letting him take her right there on the floor was tremendously alluring, and she could hardly come up with a single reason as to why they shouldn't have sex. Except that they weren't married.
Why are we doing this? Didn't we promise ourself that we'd wait? That the first time we shared this with anybody it would be our husband? That it would be special?
We're doing this because it feels good. We've waited long enough. If we marry Erik later, then technically we did share this with our husband the first time. And I'm going to lose my virginity to the Phantom of the Opera, you don't get any more special than that.
Hmm…good point. Never mind, forget we even doubted it…
"You know, this isn't really fair," Lenore muttered. "I'm not wearing anything, and you're still wearing everything."
"Would you care to remedy that?" he inquired with a devilish grin, coming up off her breast for air.
Lenore began ripping at the buttons on his frock coat, eager to get at least one layer out of the way before his mouth decided to entertain itself on her naked flesh once again. The moment she had discarded it on the floor, Erik was half finished with removing his waistcoat; obviously she wasn't moving fast enough to suit him.
He hadn't even finished sliding the waistcoat off before Lenore began tugging his shirt out of his trousers. (She had never understood why anyone bothered tucking their shirt in.) It's about time I got to take all of his clothes off. The moment his arms slipped out of the waistcoat, Lenore yanked the shirt over his head.
A gasp left Lenore's throat before she could stop it. In the process of taking off his shirt, she had accidentally knocked the mask off. She had only assumed he hid a deformity that was less than appealing, but she was not prepared for the truth. The skin on the right side of his face was stretched tightly across the bone. The transparency of the skin allowed her to see with great clarity the pulsing veins that ran beneath the skin, to see the white skull underneath. Without the mask, the flesh beneath his eye drooped slightly, and the eye sunk back into the socket a bit.
Erik only stared at her, probably trying to gauge her reaction, or maybe he was hoping he would wake up and find it all to be a bad dream. Neither one of them moved, neither one said a word. The two stared at one other. Minutes passed in this silence, the whole thing seeming quite surreal. If Erik wasn't dreaming, she had to be. This couldn't have happened…Erik couldn't look like this under the mask. And why not? A small part of her mind tried to scold her for not saying something to reassure him that she was not repulsed.
Breaking the silence with an animalistic cry of grief, Erik scrambled off of her, hurriedly throwing himself into his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him and she heard the key turn in the lock. The sobs followed almost immediately, those cries capable of being produced only by a shattered heart.
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Everything had been going so perfectly. Lenore was finally ready to give herself to him, and then this had to happen. It was ruined now, completely ruined. Erik didn't even bother trying to stifle his sobs. He lay in a crumpled heap by the door, collapsing from grief just as he finished locking the door. In its own twisted way, his mind tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him that Lenore wouldn't leave, couldn't leave, and it did this using words of his own from more than a hundred and twenty years past.
"…When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me for ever…I am crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again!...As long as you thought me handsome, you would have come back…but, now that you know my hideousness, you would run away for good…So I shall keep you here."
Keep her here, Erik. She cannot escape you, she is not permitted to leave now that she has seen. She doesn't have a choice anymore. She is yours for eternity.
Grief suffocated Erik, made thought difficult. He began to lose himself in drowning despair, and he tried desperately to pull things back together, to make sense of things in his mind. When he finally recovered himself, he rose and wiped the tears from his face. "I shouldn't have left her alone out there," he muttered to himself. "The poor thing is too delicate to be left alone for so long."
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Lenore finally managed to get over her shock and covered herself with Erik's frock coat. She was about to fish the mask out of his shirt when the door to his bedroom suddenly swung open.
"It was rather rude of me to depart so quickly," Erik remarked. "I hope you can forgive me, Christine."
Christine? Did he just call me Christine? Oh dear god, unmasking him must have pushed him over the edge of sanity. "Erik," Lenore began tentatively. Should she play along or try to get him to realize the truth?
Erik quickly strode over, found the mask, and deftly replaced it to its former position. "There, that makes you a bit more comfortable, doesn't it?" he said, giving her a small, comforting smile.
Lenore was at a loss for words and merely nodded her head in what she hoped looked like an agreeable fashion.
"Oh, how dreadful of me. It's past seven o'clock and I haven't given you any supper yet," Erik said, sounding very displeased with himself for not being on top of things. "Is there anything in particular you'd like?"
"Uh, um," Lenore stammered. She was very much taken aback by the sudden change of emotions from Erik; mere moments ago he'd been sulking in his room, now he was trying to be every inch the perfect host. "Maybe we could…go out to eat?" she proposed. She needed to know how stable he was; if he agreed to going out, she knew there was something seriously wrong with him.
"Oh, no, I'm afraid that wouldn't do at all," Erik replied brightly. "We wouldn't wish to have another run-in with your little Vicomte in the Bois, now would we?"
"But Erik, I really would like to go out to dinner with you," Lenore lied. He thinks I'm Christine…I'll just have to play along until I figure out how to make him see me.
"How sweet of you, Christine," he said. "If only I could believe you weren't trying to run away."
"No, Erik, I would never leave you," Lenore said, hoping it was the right answer. Maybe if he heard what he had wanted to hear from Christine all those years ago, he'd start to come back to himself.
"It won't do any good to lie to me."
"Erik, I"- she began, but stopped short when she realized it would be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "I've got a head ache. I think I'll retire early tonight."
"Oh, if you're not well…" he said absently. "I'll make something for that head ache of yours, go ahead and ready yourself for bed." He gestured towards the locked door in the wall, the room Lenore hadn't been in, and turned to go prepare the tincture he had promised.
"Erik? The door's locked," she informed him.
"How ridiculous of you to lock yourself out of your own room. Honestly, Christine," he chuckled, going over to the door. Moments later, it opened for him and Lenore knew it must be one of those locks that Erik had told her about, that only opened for him.
Lenore walked into the dark room as Erik left to make that remedy. Of course it's dark, stupid. Did you think he'd leave candles burning unattended in this room? The dim light flooding in through the doorway revealed very little except that the room was crammed full of paintings, sculptures, statues, compositions, and what appeared to be a few scientific inventions. He must have been in such a hurry to move into the house that he decided to use this room for storage. Maybe when he comes in and sees all this stuff, he'll-
"Here, Christine. It should help you sleep tonight," Erik said behind her in the doorway. She turned and took the step towards him, accepting the cup he offered.
There's no bed in this room…and he hasn't seemed to realize yet… "Um, Erik, could I sleep with you tonight?" she ventured cautiously.
Erik stared at her for a moment. Maybe that did it. Maybe he's- "And what would people say about it if they found out? Your reputation would be ruined, my dear."
"Who's here to find out? No one would ever know," Lenore pointed out.
"You know as well as I the only place to sleep in my room is the coffin. I doubt you truly wish to sleep there," he said softly.
Coffin? What the fuck! Work around it, Lenore, just work around it. "Well, at least let me sleep out here on the couch then, so I'll be closer to you. I don't want to be alone tonight Erik."
"If that's all that's bothering you, I'll find Ayesha. I'm sure she wouldn't mind spending the night with you," Erik replied.
Ayesha? Who the hell is Ayesha? "No, Erik…that's not…I want it to be you."
"If you insist upon sleeping on the sofa, I suppose I can't stop you," Erik sighed after a moment, obviously tired with her stubbornness. "I'll get you a few blankets."
"Thank you." Come back to me Erik. See me. Remember what time you're in, what you are now. Knowing there was no other choice, she swallowed the herbal mixture; Erik wouldn't let her weasel her way out of taking it after that lie about a head ache. She laid herself out on the couch, still wrapped in his frock coat.
He came out of his room a moment later and proceeded to tuck her in, being quite careful not to touch her. Her eyes could barely hold themselves open, and she began to wonder what he'd put in that drink to make her sleep. She slid into sleep, and all night symphonies and concertos caressed her mind and played through her dreams.
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Erik had put some laudanum into her medicine. He wanted to be sure she would sleep without waking up. Which turned out to be a good thing, as she insisted upon sleeping on the sofa. He still didn't know what was wrong with Christine to have her asking that, for saying that she wanted to be near him. He spent the night playing Gluck, Haydn, Mozart. Anything that was peaceful and tender. His music was far too violent for her; his Don Juan would certainly give her nightmares, and he only wished her to have beautiful dreams.
Erik only realized it was morning when Christine entered his room and drew his attention away from the music he had lost himself in. He stared at her; somehow she managed to be a vision despite her hair being tousled from sleep. But she had a worried look on her face. What are you thinking, my angel?
Angel or lover? Friend or Phantom? Who is it there staring? Her voice rang in his mind, an alto voice. But Christine was a soprano. And he'd never heard that tune before. How he had managed to hear her thoughts was beyond him. Maybe he'd made up that response in his mind. There was only one way to be sure. He focused on seeing everything that was in her mind.
With a cry of pain, Christine sank to the floor, clutching her head in her hands. Erik hurried over to her with a string of apologies.
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Erik gently forced Lenore to look up at him, proclaiming over and over how sorry he was. He had plunged into her mind, and she felt as if he had broken a window into her brain, shattering glass everywhere. The pain was so intense, she could only cry silently.
She saw the confusion in his eyes as he looked at her. "Lenore?" he whispered softly. "Oh God, what have I done to you?" He drew her up into his arms, holding her tightly against himself. For her part, she just wept into his shirt, half of her tears from joy at having him back and the other half from the pain in her skull.
Erik quickly took her to the bed, leaving her there while he went out to the drawing room. He returned moments later with a needle in hand. "Forgive me for this, my love, but it's the only way to stop the pain," he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead. The syringe found its way into a vein in her arm, guided by the hands of an expert, and the familiar rush of morphine swept her away.
It seemed that no time had passed between that familiar rush to when she became conscious of the world around her again. She could hear, and feel, but it seemed impossible for her to open her eyes. Lenore wasn't worried; it had been that way in the hospital, always a real struggle to open her eyes but so easy to just lay there and listen.
Erik was singing softly to her, something that sounded like a French lullaby, while stroking her hair gently. She wanted to move or say something to him, but her precious morphine kept her caged inside an unresponsive body. A dull ache lingered in her head, but it was bearable.
Erik tenderly moved Lenore until her head was resting in his lap. Hmm…this is kinda nice. We should do this more often. Not the morphine part, just the head-in-lap and tender caresses bit. He took Lenore's hand and brought it up to his face, running her small fingers over the deformed half of his face.
"It's really not so bad, once you get used to it," Erik said quietly. "Can you believe my whole face once looked like this? And I was without a nose. Really, it's not half so bad as it used to be."
Lenore felt awful. For one thing, Erik probably had no idea that she was conscious enough to hear him, probably assumed that he was talking to a woman who was more comatose than she had any right to be. Then there was the fact that she felt some revulsion towards his deformity. She was ashamed of herself; what with her legs, she wasn't exactly a divinely beautiful being herself.
I have to let him know I'm awake. But how? I can't move, can't open my eyes, can't say anything. Whoever thought I'd curse morphine one day? Honestly Erik! The one time I want you to be prying around in my head is the only time you don't.
"I'm sure you wish now that you'd never said you loved me," Erik whispered morosely. "If only you'd known, if only you'd seen…it was dreadfully unfair for you to have such feelings because of an illusion. But perhaps you can still find it your heart to love me…if you would promise yourself to me, I would give you anything you wanted, my love. If you wanted a castle in the sky, I would build you one. If you wished to have the world, I would give it to you. The people would be breathless at the sound of your voice, would fall to the floor weeping with joy at being blessed to see your beautiful face. Anything you wanted would be yours. If you desired it so, I would never take off my mask. Whatever would please you."
A bell rang, and Erik swore under his breath. "Why do they keep ringing at the back door? Can't they at least go around to the front? Not as if I'll invite them in anyway, but it would be more proper, as I haven't invited them to my home," Erik muttered, moving Lenore off his lap and getting off the bed. She heard his footsteps retreat to the drawing room, and the door clicked shut quietly behind him. The back door? There's another door to his house?
A few minutes later, Lenore managed to open her eyes and push herself up into a sitting position. Just another minute or so and I can stand…then I'm gonna find this back door…Why am I looking for the back door? What purpose would it serve? It's probably locked so that only he can open it anyway. Oh well, at least I'll know a bit more of the house layout.
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The angry shouts were so entertaining. Humans were always so outraged when they realized they'd fallen right into his trap. Erik was certainly quite glad that he'd redone the room in bullet-proof glass. The police just adored trying to shatter the mirrors with their guns.
Of course, if he revealed his presence to them, they'd go ballistic, demanding their immediate release. Sometimes it was fun to let them know he was there and listen to their commands. Exercises in futility were quite amusing. But today, Erik decided he'd rather they didn't know anyone else was around until they'd already slipped into delirium.
Naturally, the best laid plans always fall apart.
He heard a knock on the door to the drawing room. She shouldn't be up yet, she was out cold moments ago. Hopefully, she'd just decide to go back to bed when she didn't get a response. He'd locked the door, so she wouldn't be able to get in. Maybe she'll assume I went out to rid my kingdom of a few pests.
"Erik?" she called out.
Damn.
The officers began calling out to her, pleading for her to do everything in her power to free them. And Lenore, hearing their shouts, quickly realized what was going on. "Erik! Let them go," she commanded, banging on the door with her fists.
"I don't understand what you're complaining for, Lenore," he replied. "It's only a few mice."
"It is not a few mice!" she shouted back. "Those are people, with families, and friends! Let them go, right now!"
Erik sighed heavily. Women were so soft when it came to things like murder. "I'm afraid that's not in my cache of options, chérie," Erik informed her. "If I release them now, they'll arrest me and whisk you away. I was quite under the impression that you were against that."
"There's gotta be more than one way out of that torture chamber, Erik. I'll be damned if they came in the front door, through the drawing room, and voluntarily stepped in there," Lenore argued. "Just tell them where the other exit is and leave it at that!"
"The only exit for them is through death. Yes, it's true there's a door out of there, but it only opens under one circumstance, and in the event that it opens, they would drown." He paused for a moment. "So, how would you like them to die, Lenore? Drowning or slowly drifting into insanity before committing suicide?"
"Don't you dare try to put any of this on my shoulders!" she yelled. There was a brief moment of silence. "Just let them go, please. They don't deserve to die for coming down here, they're only doing the job they were told to do. Can't you have any sympathy for them?"
"I'm afraid it's rather difficult to find compassion for vermin, my little one."
"They're not vermin. They're humans, like me. Would you do this to me? Would you keep in your torture chamber until I committed suicide?"
Why did she have to come up with such a spectacular argument? Damn her for going and making the whole thing personal. "You would never be ignorant enough to fall into my little forest," Erik replied, hoping that he could find a way to get her off track.
"Erik, just let them go," she pleaded. "If you need a reason, do it for me. Do it to show me that you have some capacity for human feeling."
"I'd have to be human for that," he whispered to himself. "Lenore, surely you understand that I can't let them leave here alive. Do not ask me to put my existence on the line for a few mortal souls."
"I'm a mortal soul," she pointed out. "If you won't let them go, at least put them out of their misery. Make it quick and painless. Don't play with them first."
"But mademoiselle, a cat always plays with the mouse before eating it," Erik told her. Having said that, he firmly told himself to ignore her words from this point forward. This should certainly make for an interesting study. Two poor souls trapped in the torture chamber calling out to a compassionate soul who is unable to help them. I wonder how it will affect the descent into madness…
A few hours later, the police were crying out to anyone, human or otherwise, who might save them from their nightmare. Usually the madness had already taken hold by this time, but it seemed Lenore's unseen presence helped them keep their grip on reality.
"Can I buy their freedom with my love?" Lenore suddenly inquired. "If I agreed to marry you, would you let them go?"
"You would marry me to save people you've never even met?" Erik said in disbelief. Had it been her sister, mother, or friends, he would have understood. But she didn't know these men. There was no connection. Are you so kind that you'd sacrifice your life for theirs? No, he wouldn't marry her like that. He wanted her to give herself willingly, out of love, not because she felt a moral obligation to her species.
"Erik, please," she begged outside the room. "Tell me what I can do to save them."
"Nothing," he managed to spit out. He hated to say that to her, to lie to her in that fashion. "There is nothing you can do."
"There has to be something! Anything. Anything you want. Just tell me what it is you want and I'll give it to you," Lenore promised.
"I will not have you give something that you will regret having given for the rest of your life," Erik snarled. "I will not have it!"
"You can't know that I'd regret it! Tell me what you want," she insisted.
Erik couldn't take her pleading anymore. He would have to go out there and keep her occupied until the police trapped in the torture chamber were dead. Because he would never ask her to give up her chances of Heaven to spend eternity with him, all for those two pests.
The moment he opened the door to the drawing room, Lenore attempted to launch herself past him to help the poor souls of misfortune. He caught her with one arm and pushed her back into the drawing room with such force that she staggered half way across the room, stopping only because the couch obstructed her from going any further. She dropped onto it heavily, and fixed him with a glare that could've melted a diamond.
Closing and locking the door to the guest room, Erik walked over and took a seat next to her. "So, what would you like to do this afternoon, ma chérie?" he inquired casually.
"Save peoples' lives," she snapped back, clearly not in the mood for games.
"Would you like me to tell you a story? Something from my past, perhaps?" he continued as though she hadn't said a word.
The fact that her curiosity was getting the better of her was written all over her face. She bit her lip, probably in the process of trying to decide how long the police could survive in his forest and whether or not that was sufficient time to listen to a story. "Do I get to choose what you tell me?" Lenore finally asked.
Erik studied her for a moment, debating whether or not he should agree to that. If she doesn't get to choose the topic, she won't pay any attention and will probably try to talk me into letting those men go instead. I suppose it's the only way to get her mind off them. She's bound to ask about Christine, or perhaps my childhood. "I suppose I could let you pick the topic," he said.
"Tell me how you became immortal."
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"Hello again, readers," the authoress said. "Not that it matters to any of you, but my fish died today. I'm gonna miss that little guy…"
"Aww, it's okay. He was kinda old for a fish, it's not your fault," Lenore comforted the authoress. "Maybe your mother will let you get a dog now that your fish is dead…"
"Maybe. Anyways, I'd love it if you people would review, it would make me feel somewhat better. I'm gonna try to have the next chapter out by the end of the weekend…but who knows...what with the passing of my little fish…eh…"
"You have to finish the next part quickly!" Lenore exclaimed. "I wanna know how Erik's immortal!"
"Why did you let her choose the topic, idiotic writer?" Erik snarled, glaring daggers at the authoress, who proceeded to hide behind Lenore.
"Because she's nicer to me than you are. You always get upset with me for something," the authoress explained, peering over Lenore's shoulder. "So people, review. The more reviews I get, the faster the next part gets done. And I know you're all dying to know how Erik's immortal. It's quite an interesting story."