SORRY FOR THE WAIT. I LOVE YOU ALL FOR STICKING THROUGH IT.
I just had such a hard time figuring out how to do this chapter, and I made it short because there was way to much going on in my head about what I wanted to do, that I needed to save it for another time lol. I hope this makes up for the long wait!
PanicAtTheEpicness: Sorry, I didn't forget about you I promise! I'll message you back ASAP, but I've just been busy and all.
SammiRichGurl: D: D: D: NOOOOOO!
They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
Cos she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks no it don't break even
No
….
I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing
Just prayin' to a God that I don't believe in
Cos I got time while she got freedom
Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even
Lyrics from Break Even by The Script
Bang.
Erik felt Abigail freeze. He opened his eyes, his head only inches from hers. Even in the darkness, he saw Abigail's pale, gloomy eyes slowly widen and her smile fade away. He frowned in confusion as he slowly pulled away from her.
Looking down, he saw her clutching her chest.
Erik frowned. Something was wrong…
A substance began to form under her hand, darkening the already deathly red dress. Something… What…
"E-Erik…" Abigail gasped, reaching out a bloody hand to him, "H-Help…"
Abigail grasped at him, staining his suit as she failed at grabbing onto his shoulder. She fell to the ground. Erik couldn't move; his brain refused to comprehend his surroundings. He sat there, dizzy and nauseated, waiting for her to jump up laughing and tell him she was fine and that it was all come cruel joke.
"Erik… Where are y-you?" Abigail cried, tears pouring down her cheek, bloody hands drunkenly feeling around, "P-Please… It h-hurts…"
Erik snapped to attention at her cries. He shook his head and looked down at the mess before him. Falling to the ground beside her, Erik turned Abigail over onto her back, revealing the bullet wound on her chest.
Erik saw red.
A large snarl erupted from his lips. Who could have done this? Where were they? He would find them, imprison them, and torture them until they begged for death. Oh, he would tear their skin off inch by inch. He would cop off their fingers and toes, pull out their teeth, rip out each strand of their hair. He would break their legs, rip their arms out of their sockets, and play with them like a puppet. Oh, Erik would make them pay for this if it was the last thing he did. He almost felt sorry for the one who dared to touch his little pianist.
But now was not the time for revenge plots. Now was the time to save the woman who had saved him. Ignoring the intense waves of fear and confusion, Erik pressed his hand down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Abigail gasped in pain.
"Abigail! Can you hear me? Abigail?" he cried, lifting her up.
"Mmmm…" she mumbled.
"Stay with me, Abigail. Speak to me!" he said as he pulled her into his arms, tears beginning to form.
"E-Erik?"
Erik clung to her, keeping one hand on the wound and the other supporting her against him, "A-Abigail?"
A few last tears fell. She sniffed, gave a small wince of pain and said, "Take m-me home… Please?"
Erik learned to fly.
He leapt from the ground and flew through the Opera House. Erik charged through the gates, burst out into the streets, and sprinted in what he prayed to be the right direction. Nobody seemed to be around. Erik didn't think to wonder why; all that mattered was getting Abigail to safety. But how was her house safe for her? Shouldn't he get Abigail to the hospital?
The hospital. People were there… People that he did not know… Or trust… Who says that they will not flee the moment that they realize who is carrying a shot blind girl? For all he knew, they would think that it was him who had attempted to kill Abigail.
He looked down at Abigail as he ran. She had passed out. Anger tore through his heart, leaving nothing but fear in its place. How could he be thinking of himself when she was dying? He should have gone to the hospital the moment he realized what had happened. But he was moving in the wrong direction… The hospital was on the other side of town…
He did not go back.
Selfish, selfish, selfish!
Self hatred ripped through Erik's mind as he continued towards Abigail's house. He was a coward and a fool. He couldn't do it by himself. How could Erik face the world without Abigail standing by his side to protect him? He couldn't even protect her when she needed him the most… How could Erik have let this happen? Why didn't he realize that something was off? Erik should have known she was in danger. It was all his fault… All of it…
Erik kicked Abigail's door down. The house was eerily quiet. Not a soul had been inside for quite some time. Erik dashed to the kitchen, laying Abigail's limp body across her kitchen table. Reaching out to her, he paused for a moment, wondering what to do… He never had a need to fix a wound, all of his simply healed on the spot.
Blood began to drip onto the table.
Erik cursed. He tore off her dress, revealing her naked chest and stomach underneath. Erik pulled the cloth down to her hips, ignored her naked form, and assessed the wound.
It was worse than he had imagined. The bullet entered just below her heart. Erik realized that it must have just missed the vital organ, otherwise he would most likely be standing here with a dead body.
You'll be standing here with a dead body if you don't do something.
Erik tore his eyes away from the gushing wound, searching desperately for something to fix it with. He darted through the house, grabbing anything that looked somewhat medical. Upon his return, he found Abigail a shade whiter.
A small yelp burst from within his chest. Erik slammed the materials he had gathered next to her, and through a swarm of tears, he began to pick up the shattered pieces of his love and try to put her back together again.
She was in a room.
It was a dark room.
But it had a light.
It was such a tiny little light.
But oh, it was such a large light to her.
It was warm.
But it was cold.
She shivered, realizing how very cold it was.
But the light was oh so warm.
It filled her with life.
Suddenly, the light went out.
She gasped, reaching a hand out to where the light had been.
Where did it go? Why did it leave?
She thought the light and her were friends…
She began to cry.
It was so dark and cold…
A couple of minutes went by.
She wanted to die.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the light came back.
But oh, it was so much grander than it had been before.
The light had grown larger; it felt like the sun.
She tilted her head to the side. This could not be the same light as before.
It illuminated the room; she could see everything.
It was an empty room.
She wanted to fill it.
She looked down upon herself, and realized she was naked.
She wanted to clothe herself.
The light began to hum a comfortable tune.
She hummed along with it, a smile growing on her face.
She began to move.
After walking around for a little bit, she found a white cloth.
She wrapped it around herself, tying it at her waist with a rope that had been lying nearby.
After awhile, she began to find other things.
A small chair.
A picture of a man.
A few music pages.
And then a piano.
She pulled the chair up to the piano and sat down.
The light grew larger as she played; for some reason, she felt as though she belonged there in this dark room, playing the piano with this warm, gentle light behind her.
She felt safe.
She felt warm.
She felt loved.
She played and played, never stopping, not needing anything else in the world.
Bang.
The light went out.
It was dark again.
She sat there, stunned at the suddenness of the light's departure.
The note she had played was still ringing out, cutting through the silence where the gentle hum had been.
A voice began to speak.
*"Darkness… Is not something. It is the absence of something. There is low light… Normal light… Bright light… Flashing light… But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing, and it is called darkness."*
Her lower lip trembled.
She did not want darkness. She wanted light.
But… Was this truly darkness?
Was it not simply the absence of a light?
She could fill it again, couldn't she?
She jumped up from her seat and began to run around, searching for a light.
Where could she look?
Would she find another light?
A few tears began to form.
She wanted things back to how they used to be…
Nothing was here…
She grabbed at her hair, screaming in frustration
Why would no light come to her?
Was she not the same?
Where did her light go?
She screamed, ripping off the cloth around her waist and throwing it to the ground
She would never find another light.
She would be alone.
In the dark.
Forever.
Erik brushed a bit of sweat off of his forehead. He had been working on Abigail for almost an hour, and so far, she didn't appear to be any better than when he had started.
In fact, she appeared to be getting worse.
Several bloody towels lay strewn around her motionless body, along with a few bandages he had failed to attach to her. Now, Erik was trying something he had heard of before; stitches. Unsure of the exact procedure that was done, Erik settled on simply cleaning off the few sewing needles that Abigail had lying around the house. After several failed attempts at stringing the needle, he finally was able to slip the thread through the smaller-than-necessary hole on top of it.
Looking back down to Abigail, Erik cleaned off the blood that had begun to pool on the wound. Again. Pinching her skin together, Erik took a deep breath and plunged his way through the tougher-than-he-imagined skin.
His determination won over his self doubt.
He would save her.
Aimee smiled out to the crowd. She waved and waved, flowers raining down upon her. The cheers and screams overwhelmed her senses; she could hardly hear her own thoughts. Everything was a blur of tears and joy; nothing could ruin this moment for her.
She was the star.
The beauty.
The prize.
Aimee was the girl in the spotlight, the person every woman wanted to be in that Opera House. And Aimee knew it. Delight was spread across her face, her arm growing numb from waving about so much.
Drew walked up behind her. The crowd roared in approval. He grabbed her hand, and rose their intertwined fingers to the air. Another roar of enthusiasm.
"Bravo!"
"Encore!"
"Wonderful!"
"Stupendous!"
A few tears of joy began to roll down Aimee's cheek. Her cheeks began to hurt from smiling to much. She looked over at Drew; his eyes were stuck on her, a glowing look upon his face. Aimee thought nothing of it. She turned back to the crowd.
The curtain fell.
The cheering crowd disappeared.
"You did… Astounding, Aimee." Drew said, keeping a hold on her hand as he dropped his arm to his side, "Complete and utter perfection."
Aimee's face turned red, "Oh, shut up, you did amazing as well!"
"You stole the show, Aimee! You stole it and ran away. Not a soul could have caught you." He replied.
Aimee let her grin answer for her.
"So, where are your friends? Didn't you say they would be here?"
A shock wave ran down her spine. Aimee had completely forgotten about Abigail and the Phantom. And what of Doug? Where was he?
"I didn't see them. Maybe they didn't come." She said almost hopefully. Drew caught her tone and shot her a confused glance.
Aimee shook her head, "I love my friends, but they… Uh, well, they had more important things to do tonight. Yeah."
"What? It's not like someone's dying. The least they could have done was show up."
He sat in the dark.
He stared to the ground.
He watched nothing.
He felt nothing.
He was cold.
He was tired.
He wanted to leave.
He wanted it to end.
He wanted to go back.
He wanted to live.
He wanted to die.
He wanted her there.
He wanted her gone.
He sat in the dark.
He stared at the ground.
He pulled out a gun.
He watched the silver glow pierce through the black.
He shut his eyes, wishing to take it all back.
He jumped in the air, calling himself a fool.
He stamped a shoe to the ground, grit his teeth, grabbed his hair.
He hated the truth.
He wanted a lie.
He wanted someone to tell him why, why… why?
He took a deep breath.
He drew it out slow.
He cleared his mind of all wrong thoughts and all of the woe.
He looked at the night, coming to the truth.
He hated himself.
He knew what to do.
He gripped his gun tight.
He blinked a few times, trying to gain the courage to try.
He wanted to tell her what happened.
He wanted to tell her why.
He knew it was to late here.
He knew that here was not there.
He realized that there was her.
He held up his bridge from here to there.
He looked up to there.
He said a prayer.
He crossed the bridge.
He was not there.
Erik looked down at the mess that he had created. It was a disgusting, messy, bloody mess.
The stitches were crooked, leaving holes for blood to occasionally spill out. Erik managed to even cut her in several spots on her stomach from the needle, as well as himself, leaving behind small incisions that would most certainly scar. He frowned, wondering what he had to do.
Erik put a cool cloth on Abigail's forehead, wrapped a bandage tightly around her wound, and dressed her into a pair of sweatpants and shirt he found in her bedroom. They both were quickly stained with blood.
Erik cursed at himself. Why was he so inefficient? Why was he so useless? Nothing ever turned out right around him. What has he ever done to benefit someone else? All he was capable of was anger and destruction.
Abigail started. Erik was at her side in a heartbeat.
"Abigail? Abigail! Can you hear me? Abigail!"
She moaned softly. Her eyelids flickered open, revealing her dead eyes.
"Oh, Abigail…" Erik cried, "I'm so sorry… I couldn't… I can't…" and broke down.
"E-…Erik? Is t-that you?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Y-yes! Of course, it's me, Abigail." He cried as he grabbed her hand. He kissed it over and over again, letting her know he was next to her. She smiled faintly.
"I s-saw…"
"No!" Erik yelled, "You saw nothing. Nothing. You are going to be fine."
"A-A light…"
His heart sank. His experience with dying had involved lights.
"I-It was so warm… A-and then… It w-was gone!"
Hope rose within him. Perhaps he had saved her from death?
"E-Erik!" she cried, trying to raise her other arm to him, "P-Please…"
"Shhh! Don't talk. You are so weak right now."
"I'm going to die."
"NO."
"I-I feel cold."
His heart was racing. Erik began to sweat.
"You promised me!" he cried, grabbing at anything his mind could think of. "You promised… You would play the duet with me tonight…"
Abigail shut her eyes, tears flowing down her bloody cheeks, "I k-know. I'm s-s-so sorry…"
Erik clung to her hand, and then her arm, and then her face. He did not want to let her go. He refused.
"You promised me you would be here with me, forever." He begged.
"I know."
"You swore to help me. You told me you would never leave!"
She began to shake her head, a few sobs escaping her lips, "I-I-I k-know! I know!"
"I need you here, Abigail! I can't do this without you…"
"Yes y-you can." Abigail said, reaching up to him, "You are so strong…"
"Only when I'm with you…" Erik whispered, stroking her cheek.
Abigail swallowed, shaking her head, "You must promise me something Erik."
"Anything."
She opened her eyes again. Somehow, even on her death bed, Abigail managed to search through the darkness and stare directly into Erik's eyes. He felt her stare, truly and deeply felt it, as well as all of the pain and suffering that came with it, "Promise me you will find someone else."
He froze.
"Never." He hissed, "No."
"You must promise me, or I will die… So… m-miserable…" Her eyes began to slowly close again. Erik felt her body began to go limp once again. He leaned down to her ear, and whispered his own promise to her.
"I will fix you."
Next chapter will be back to normal. I just had a TON of shit to do, and my season just ended so I should have a LOT more time too btw. I PROMISE. I swear. I am a good person ;_;
* * this thing is a quote from Einstein. Not my words, but I tweaked it slightly. Don't sue me.