Why do I like to cause Christine, my favorite character ever, so much misery? It remains a mystery...
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I started thinking through different possibilities, considering which was most likely to fool Erik. The very idea was laughable, though. Fool Erik? I must have been insane! Because he would most likely see through me, I would need a plan for that as well.
At first, I considered pretending to have fallen in love with him. I didn't have the time required for that, though, and besides, he would never believe such a thing. There was no possibility of me acting well enough to convince him. I had always been a better chanteuse than an actress anyway.
Then I thought of simply asking him for a baby. I could say that I feared being lonely, or something of that nature, and that I had always wanted a child. He knew I had never expressed any desire for children before, though, so that would fail miserably as well. That was not even mentioning the fact that he would never permit a child of his in the world, I assumed.
My last idea was far simpler. I would tell him I wanted to fulfill my promise to him now rather than waiting for the end of the year. That seemed the most logical. I could say that I wanted it to be over with, maybe request something for my nerves, and he could do whatever he wanted then. He would take that explanation without a second thought.
The worst part of all of this, though, was that I regretted making love with Raoul the second time. It had been foolish in many ways, what the possibility of a baby, as he did not think we needed to prevent one, as we would be married soon, but also as me not realizing how much he had changed. I didn't even know if I wanted to have his child now. I did still love him, certainly more than Erik, but a part of our love was broken, as he had changed in the three months I was away. He had become too protective of me, almost like I couldn't be trusted, like I was a child. I had savored his protection before, but that was when he had trusted and respected me as an equal. The two weeks I had spent with him hadn't made me feel that way. I had been loved and loved in return, but not in the way I craved, the way I likely would never experience again.
None of that mattered, though. I couldn't change what had happened. This was my child, and to Erik's knowledge, it would be his, if I could manage to convince him. All that mattered was me protecting this possible child from Erik's fury.
There was so much risk, though, so much to lose. All trust he had in me could be gone in an instant, even the love he felt. He could see me as part Raoul and part myself, and therefore hate me. Or I could be doing all of this for a child who didn't exist.
I wore myself down with these thoughts, these plans, this folly. He would never be fooled. I knew that, and yet I had to try. The risk was worth it. I had to keep telling myself that, over and over, until I could believe it.
"My dear, are you reading or daydreaming?" Erik asked me, glancing over at me from the piano.
"Hm?" I said.
He scratched a few notes onto the score in front of him. "You haven't turned a page in over fifteen minutes."
I glanced down at it. "I don't know... I'm just tired."
"You're always tired," he said softly, but not in a way to soothe me. "And you haven't eaten very much for three days now."
"I have a right to be full of melancholy. I've been taken away from my home."
He thought for a moment. "Three months ago, yes. But you have been with me for some time now."
"Not married to you, though."
"You need to realize how fortunate you are rather than pity yourself for reasons you should not."
"Fortunate?"
"You have no troubles to speak of, no fear for your future, and what you desire most: music. That is not even mentioning how much you are loved."
"But I am not happy."
"That is your own doing," he said sharply. "You could be happy if you only let yourself. The only sadness you should crave is that of the violin."
"You think I want to be sad?"
"Naturally. You don't want me to be happy. That's how people work, they make those they dislike miserable even at the cost of their own happiness."
"I don't want to make you miserable."
"Then why must you always be sad?" he demanded. "No matter what I do!"
"It's because of what you did that I am sad!"
He slammed his fist onto the piano keys. "I have given you everything you could ever want-"
"But I didn't want anything but my freedom!" I exclaimed. "That is all I have ever wanted, and you took it, thinking I would be sated with jewels and music, but I will not! You should know me better than that by now."
"You are a woman, my dear," he said coldly. "You are supposed to marry and have children, or else face public scrutiny. You never had any freedom, and you would not wish for it if you knew what it truly was."
"Well, you know nothing of freedom, either," I told him, my chest alight with indignation.
"I have traveled around Europe and Asia, of my own volition," he retorted, "and I would consider that freedom."
"You had no other choice but to be on display, though-"
"Do not speak to me of that!" he cried. "The fact of the matter is that you should be happy here, and the only reason you are not is because of your own stubbornness!"
My lower lip quivered. I turned on my heels and stormed upstairs to my room, slamming the door in my wake.
I buried my head in my hands as I sat down on my bed. What was I going to do now? I had to make amends or else he wouldn't believe me tonight. The reminder of what lay ahead made a shudder expand to the tips of my fingers and toes.
I couldn't do this. I wasn't strong enough. Already I knew I would be trembling uncontrollably, likely crying as well. The idea of being so intimate with a man I did not love, and worse, a murderer, was too much to bear. But I wasn't looking out for myself; I had to protect this possible child. My own foolishness had created it anyway, so I had no right to forgo my plan. I would go back down to Erik and make up something to convince him I was no longer upset with him.
It was my own fault I had to endure this. I had to protect the result of my foolishness by sacrificing what had created it.
...
That night, I waited for Erik to come lie down beside me on top of the blankets. I listened for his footsteps, and they began their approach after he assumed I must have fallen asleep. My heart accelerated with dread.
"Are you asleep?" he whispered, loudly enough that I would hear if I wasn't, quietly enough that I wouldn't hear if I was.
Upon hearing no reply, he came over to lie down beside me. I turned over onto my side, and he inhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet.
"It's all right," I told him. "I know that you do that."
He stood there in the darkness, unmoving. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"I can't sleep."
"Why not?"
"I... I'm anxious."
"Anxious?" he asked gently. "Why would you be anxious?"
I swallowed. "You said I had to choose my wedding night before the end of the year."
He was silent for a moment. "That was our understanding."
"I... I want it over with."
He stared at me, his eyes widening in the darkness. "W-... when?"
"N-now," I trembled out.
Perhaps he had died. He gave no sign of having heard. He barely moved. Even his chest ceased expanding with his lungs and throbbing with his heart.
"Right now?" he whispered.
"Y-yes, but... will you give me something?" I asked.
"No."
I blinked, stunned. "N-no? Nothing for my nerves?"
"Oh, oh, for your nerves, yes, of course, I thought you were asking a favor... W-wait here."
He went away as silently as a ghost, likely in disbelief. It must have been a surprise indeed that I would say such a thing, but he seemed to believe me. Perhaps he wanted me too much to care, either.
I waited in agony. I feared I might cry, and that could change his mind, so I had to keep my tears bottled up inside. At least he would be bringing me something to calm me. How strong would he make it, though?
His footsteps came up the stairs. My limbs stiffened and my heart pounded against my ribcage. He came into the room with a cup clasped in his hands. Was he trembling? His body appeared to be swaying, as if he were caught in a strong breeze.
"What changed your mind about waiting?" he asked, placing himself gingerly at the edge of my bed.
"I can't explain," I replied, reaching out eagerly for the cup.
His hands were trembling rather violently now as he extended it to me. He watched me drink it. My muscles began to relax, and my heart's tempo grew steadier.
"Now?" he said, his voice frail.
It took all my strength to nod. He stared at me for a moment, at the buttons of my nightgown, before proceeding to undo them. I stared up at the ceiling rather than his eyes, ashamed and afraid. His hands fumbled with the fastenings, as they quaked worse than ever.
"You're hiding something," he whispered, his voice faltering as he removed his hands. "Don't think you can fool me."
"F-fool you?" I said.
"But what are you trying to conceal? Why would this be a solution that you would be willing to take?"
"I just want to not dread it later. There's nothing to conceal."
He glanced down at me, then got up from the bed. "No. Tell me now."
"I'm being honest," I pleaded. "I swear-"
"Tell me now or there will be consequences!"
I began to cry. "There's nothing. N-nothing. You were just... kind to me the other day, and I... I don't know, I just want it done."
"That wasn't our agreement, though," he told me, his hand fidgeting at his side.
"W-what was?"
His cold demeanor broke from my trembling voice and the tears running down my face.
"Don't be upset," he told me gently. "I'm not upset with you, how could I be now? It's only confusing that you would have changed your mind so quickly... But our agreement was not for you to take me reluctantly... I want the same, and I will wait for it if I must."
"The same?" I whispered.
"As what you did before."
I brushed the tears from my eyes. "I can't. Y-you never said that before-"
"Pretend. It's dark, pretend with me."
He was pleading with me. Pitifully, even. I couldn't believe he was asking me such a thing, but at least he had given up his earlier need for an explanation.
"Don't make me," I whispered.
"I'm not making you do anything," he told me gently. "You can wait."
"But I can't."
"Can't?" he inquired. "Why can't you?"
"I-I already said I would. I can't change it now."
"What sort of monster do you think I am? Have you changed your mind or not?"
I shook my head. "Not... I will. I've gone too far now."
"Is that your final decision?"
"It is."
He began to tremble anew. "Then I may kiss you?"
I nodded. He cupped my head in his hands and brought his lips to mine. I couldn't bring myself to kiss him back, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He was as clumsy as he had been before. He wasn't upset by that fact at all, though, and I preferred it. I wanted him to be clumsy and innocent.
I hoped it was over soon.
...
I lay awake in bed that night, beside him, in my shift, my eyes wide open as I stared up at the ceiling. Hours ago it felt like I had woken up from some feverish dream. Beside me, Erik made noises in his sleep- moans, whimpers. He moved restlessly, pulled the blankets away, until I found myself completely exposed to the cold air. I shivered and my eyes stung with tears.
"Erik?" I pleaded miserably, trying to rouse him by gently shaking his shoulder. "Please wake up, Erik. I'm cold."
He stirred, his eyes opening lazily. A terrifying light came into them, one that pierced my heart with fright. Before I could react, or even cry out, he had grabbed me by the throat and pinned me down against the bed. I gasped for breath, and I tried to scream without the air to permit it. All I could do was claw at his hands. They were iron, unrelenting.
My life was draining beneath his hands. My eyelids grew heavy from lack of oxygen, and my lungs were caving in. My mind was so panicked that I thrashed madly, without thought, unable to accept death. His eyes stared into mine with hatred and fury.
That was when he suddenly released me, breathing heavily with fright. I gasped for air, sobbing and choking.
"Oh g**," he whispered, horrified. He repeated that phrase again and again with increasing terror. Then he said shakily, "I thought you were... I didn't..."
I tried to speak, but my voice was a hollow breath. I continued sobbing. Instead of attempting to comfort me, Erik left the room, breathing heavily and running his hands through his hair.
I felt my throat. It was tender even to the brush of a fingertip.
At least I never had to worry about sleeping with Erik again, as this could be the outcome. A violent life would no doubt lead to violent dreams.
He shuffled back into the room, his face drenched with tears.
"Are you all right?" he whispered.
"No," I croaked out. "You nearly... k-killed me."
He shook his head as if still shocked by what had happened. "No, no, I tried to kill her, and I... I couldn't see... Are you hurt?"
"My throat," I whimpered.
He gave a cry like a dying animal. "I shouldn't have stayed with you! I should have gone back to my bed. I should have known I might do such a thing, and to you, the only thing I have in this world. But I didn't mean to! I didn't know! I love you. I love you. You're all I have and I almost..." He cried out again and began sobbing. "And after what you gave me earlier... then you let me sleep beside you, I should have said no, I should have said that one word and you wouldn't have been hurt. My poor Christine."
My child. My skin crawled at the sudden realization that miscarriages could occur from fright. Had it died? Had Erik killed a part of me after all?
"I'll never sleep in your bed again," he told me. "Never."
"I never want to sleep in this bed again, either," I replied. There were two awful memories associated with it now, both of which I had felt like dying.
"I'll buy you a new one, then, and anything else that will make you forget this."
"Please," I whispered.
He left me alone for the remainder of the night. I had expected to feel relieved after it was over, like I had been brave in some way, but all I had felt was foolish and used. At least my child might have been protected by it. I had almost given my life in the end.
Oddly enough, I pitied Erik. I wasn't upset with him at all. He was right to want to seek out the deepest expression of love with me, and he had, in a sense, let it be my choice. He had been crying at intervals during it—overwhelmed, I assumed—and I had pitied him for not receiving what he should have from someone who actually loved him. I had pitied him enough to let him stay with me afterward.
What if he had killed me? What would he have done? Likely killed himself, I assumed, in a torturous manner. I was glad that I was alive, though. I might despise my circumstances, but I had no desire to die.
Not yet, that is.
...
The next day, Erik avoided me, to the extent of me making my own meals. My nausea wasn't as terrible as it had been- in fact, I hardly noticed it that day. Maybe it came in waves.
He played music for me all day, though he did not glance in my direction. It was like he had chained himself to the piano and the violin, enslaved himself for my sake. He didn't play anything sad or, as he liked, macabre. It was all joyous and beautiful, though I knew he must be feeling neither.
The sun set before I approached him. He had not eaten anything that day, nor moved from the bench. I grazed my hand over his shoulder and he shuddered.
"I'm sorry that had to happen," I whispered. "I didn't know."
He kept his gaze downcast.
"I forgive you," I insisted. "You didn't know, and even if you suspected, why shouldn't you have stayed?"
"I hope that at least something came of it," he replied softly, glancing up at me with an indefinable expression. "That you miscarried."
My heart faltered in my chest.