There a several days in my life I will never forget: The day I met Andre, the day he made me his wife. The day I first found out I was pregnant, and the day I found out I had lost the precious life inside me. The day Cece was born, and every milestone she made after.

These days I will not forget by choice. One day I cannot forget no matter how hard I have tried is the day Erik left my life.

Cecile was nearly a year and a half old, and spring was well under way. A light rain had just fallen the night before and the soil was perfect for planting the herb and vegetable garden I had been planning all winter. I had only just begun to turn the soil when a piercing cry sounded from inside the house.

I was on my feet in an instant, the primal urge to protect my darling girl aching in my chest. "Cece! Cece what's wrong?"

"It's all right, Collette, she's going to be fine," Andre promised over Cecilie's pained cries, and I made my way to his study and the source of all the noise.

To my surprise, they were not alone. Father Mansart was in the room, standing by Andre's work bench where he often prepared his own chemicals and saw smaller house pets our neighbors sometimes brought to him after hours. "What happened?" I demanded, crouching to inspect my baby as she held her hand protectively against her chest.

"She only put her hand on a bit of weak acid is all," Andre promised, and I looked up to him in alarm as Cecile moved into my arms for comfort. "After I bandage it, it shouldn't even scar."

"What were you doing with acid out where she might reach?" I asked incredulously; he knew as well as I did how curious she was and how likely she was to grab anything and everything in her reach. "What if she had put it in her mouth, or spilled it on her face?"

"I'm afraid it's my fault, Madame Aumer," Father Mansart said over Cece's cries. "I left my crucifix on the work bench. I should have known the baby would want to see it."

Cecile finally relinquished her hand, and I frowned at the bright red welt in the shape of a bar on her palm. When I kissed it to ease her crying, my lips grew uncomfortably hot. Alarmed, I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand and glanced up at the men. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm in the middle of an exorcism that's been going on for quite some time," the old priest explained. "The chemist is all the way in Rouen; your husband is the only man in town with the chemicals I need to continue."

Realization washed over me so violently I felt as though I were drowning. I stood, picking up Cecile as I did. "You use chemicals in the crucifix?"

"And the holy water," Father Mansart explained. "This isn't precisely a sanctioned exorcism. I'm doing it as a favor to the mother of the boy. I can't find any evidence of true possession or demonic presence, but the poor woman is at her wits end. Often when there is no possession simply going through the motions makes things better. When everyone believes the victim has been cured, the behavior stops."

"It's like a sugar pill," Andre added. "Very clever, really."

I stared between them, incredulously. "You're letting a little boy think he's been touched by the devil just because he has a difficult relationship with his mother? You're burning him with acid to make her life easier?"

"Collette, the boy has her convinced a statue is a newborn infant. He broke it, and she accused him of murder. She's not the only one terrified of him anymore; her fiancé, Doctor Barye is the one who came to me last night. He said the boy was speaking in tongues, throwing his voice around the room, filling it wall to wall with ear piercing shouts just because she told him they were going to be married."

Too many emotions hit me all at once. Had Erik lied to me about giving up his farce with the statue, or was Doctor Barye merely trying to excise the boy from his fiancé's life as Erik had once claimed? Regardless, what they were doing to Erik was wrong. By Father Mansart's description the boy was angry and terrified, and judging by the burn that still lingered on my lips likely in pain and panicking.

Whether Erik lied or not was not important now, I decided. The farce being played against Erik was a far greater evil than the one he had played against his mother, and had to be stopped.

I believe everything in life happens for a reason. Erik was strong and stubborn, but he was only a boy. He needed a voice, a protector. He was the reason I had lost my son, the reason my husband had pulled us from our lives in Paris to this small village so far from the life we knew. I was put on this earth and guided to this village to keep that little boy safe.

Andre seemed to sense my resolve. "Collette, don't you dare go over to that house. You've seen how violent he can be."

"How violent he can be?" I asked, flabbergasted. "You don't think pressing acid into a little boy's flesh is violent?"

"A necessary evil," Andre soothed. "If he's not possessed, he's clearly mad. What sort of child goes about doing something like this to his own mother? Not to mention all the bizarre little gifts he's been bringing Cece this past year."

"Ribbons and toys are suddenly bizarre?"

"From a little boy to an infant he has no relation to whatsoever? Yes, Collette, they are bizarre!" Andre exclaimed, as though I too had lost my mind. Cecile was crying harder now at our fight than at the pain in her palm. With her still in my arms, I made my way to the door. "You're not taking her with you!" My husband commanded from behind me.

I did not even turn to address him as left. "Like hell am I leaving her with two men who would so easily harm a child," I spat, picking up my pace to as close to a run as I could manage in heeled boots on rain-softened soil outside.

When I arrived at the cottage, the situation was far more dire than I had imagined. The door was open and I let myself inside with no invitation. "Erik? Erik I-"

There he was, in the very first room of the house lying as still as the corpse his face portrayed him to be. Madeleine was on the floor by Erik's head, stroking back his hair. When she glanced up to me her eyes were filled with tears, and her voice broke. "God help me. Forgive me, poor, unhappy Erik…"

Every drop of blood froze in my veins when Madeleine clenched her son's hand in a wave of grief and he did not stir. "Oh God. God Almighty, he's –"

"He's not dead," Doctor Barye explained, suddenly standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen and drying his hands. "I don't know that he'll make it through the night, but for now he's alive. When Father Mansart returns we should have him read the boy his prayers, take his confession if he wakes."

Relief was quickly replaced by an anger strong enough to rival my self-loathing upon miscarrying my son. "You," I seethed, placing Cecile down and stalking towards Madeleine. "You killed him, you selfish, horrible woman! He loved you! God only knows why; you treated him worse than you treated your dog. He had to deceive you into bringing any love into this house at all!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so –"

"Tell that to him!" I shouted, pointing to Erik's still form. Dear God, how little he looked. For three years he seemed to grow every time I saw him, now he seemed so, so small. It was then I noticed the swelling in his abdomen, and the dark slick spot on his shirt. "…He's bleeding. Why is he bleeding? What did you do?" I screeched, raising my hands to grab the woman in my fury before Doctor Barye stepped in and restrained me.

"That was not our doing," he insisted, strongly. "Erik tried to run away not an hour ago. He ran into some boys from the village. They killed Sasha last night – that's the reason for all of this," he added. "The boy went into a fit; started singing requiems for the beast like she was human, blaming Madeleine for her death when he was the one who put her outside."

"Who was it?" I demanded, with tears in my eyes. "Who did this to him? I'll call the police –"

"You can't call the police. Those boys who hurt him, do you know what they'll grow up to become? Police, soldiers, husbands, fathers, priests, veterinarians, doctors –" Madeleine said, trailing off. "Those boys aren't any different from the rest of the world. The police won't understand. They might even do more harm –"

"More harm?" I demanded. "Erik is dying!"

"All the more reason to give him peace," Madeleine pleaded. I opened my mouth to protest before Cecile tugged on the back of my skirt and pointed to Erik from behind me, too nervous to come closer to the sofa but too curious to stay away.

My heart ached for her, and I crouched to be level with both she and Erik where he lay. "Oh, Cecile. Erik can't play with you today. He's not well," I tried to explain, knowing she could not possibly understand why the boy whose sole purpose to in her life had been to bring her joy would not acknowledge her.

"Sick?" She asked, and I nodded tearfully.

"Very sick."

She frowned, full lips and cheeks reflecting her upset. Without any prompting at all she pulled herself away from my skirts and made her way between Erik and Madeleine. Reaching as far as her little legs could manage even on tip-toe, Cece leaned forward and gently kissed Erik's masked cheek in the tender way only an infant can manage.

Madeleine let loose a sob and covered her mouth at the gesture as the girl came back and buried her face in my bosom for comfort.

Even when Father Mansart arrived and saw the change in the situation, I could not leave the boy who had become my son. When Andre showed up after sunset to demand my return to our own home and the recommencement of our own lives, I made clear my intent to stay by Erik's side until he was put in the ground. I kept calm while he screamed and shouted, calling me mad and a neglectful wife and mother. When he threatened to leave for his brother's house in Paris permanently, I shed no tears and let him leave the house without a word of protest.

My intent was to stay awake through the night, to be the one holding his hand when he passed out of our world and into Heaven's gates. I'm not sure at what point I fell asleep, but the next thing I realized the sun way high in the morning sky and Madeleine was sobbing quietly from the side of the sofa where she had refused to move all night.

It only took me a moment to realize the sofa was empty.

Suddenly I was fully awake. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

Doctor Barye shook his head. "We don't know."

Father Mansart spoke next. "I was the first to wake this morning, and he was already gone."

I remembered the night so long ago when Erik had first come to my home to tell me he was planning to run away, and how I had known through that action alone he was not sincere. Back then he was unhappy, even miserable… but he was not desperate enough to run away, only to reach out for any semblance of affection he could find in the lonely world.

It had taken a violent act of betrayal by the woman who should have loved him more than anyone and a brush with death, but Erik had finally done it. He had run away.

The thought of him alone and so small in a world so big terrified me, but also gave me hope. Our world was a dangerous one for his kind. He was too smart, too old beyond his years, to extraordinary for the world of man. Madeleine had been right; those boys would not have been the end of it. They would not stop until his was dead.

I prayed long and hard for his health and safety, all too aware of the severity of the wound he had fled with. By the grace of God and with a little luck, Erik might not only survive but finally have a chance to thrive in the world. His life would never be easy, but under his mother's roof he stood no chance at all of holding a career, falling in love, and living his life.

I was not immune to the selfishness loss brings. I would miss Erik and the happiness he brought me. I still had Cece to teach and guide through life, but a son was something different. I would never get to teach Erik how to treat a lady, how to woo and impress her, how to behave in polite society like other mothers get to teach their sons. I would never get to evaluate the woman he would with luck and good grace someday fall in love with and marry. I would not be there to listen to his woes and triumphs. I would not get to laugh at Erik's threatening speech to Cecile's future beaus, or wonder at their private jokes and conversations.

When I finally returned home, Andre had not left as he threatened. He sat at the dining table when I stepped inside, and when I began to cry he held me tightly for hours. When he apologized for shouting at me I forgave him, but did not ask for forgiveness for driving him to such actions.

I did not regret a moment of my time spent with Erik, and never would.

"He's not dead," I said while making he and Cecile supper, too sick from crying to carry an appetite.

"I know," Andre admitted quietly, and I glanced at him with a raised brow. Without saying another word he stood and moved to our bedroom, returning with a rose with a royal blue ribbon tied neatly around the stem.

I froze as the hole Erik left in my chest ached. "It's… it's one of Madeleine's roses."

"And the color ribbon he gave Cece," Andre added. "There's one in her crib too, with the same ribbon."

I cried again and did not stop until every last drop of water in my body was drained.

-fin-

Author's Note: Thank you all SO much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was my first foray into first-person writing. Much of this was based on Susan Kay's Phantom with a few deviations and many additions, so if you liked this I highly recommend giving that a read.

I am almost done with the first chapter of the sequel. I'm just working out more of the history of my leading lady before posting it so I have a better idea of where it's going. It will be a Drama/Romance between Erik as portrayed in this story and an OC who may or may not have made an appearance in this story. It will be up early tomorrow so stay tuned, and thanks again for reading. Love you all!