... Don't kill me? Please? I promise, I'll try to stay on track, but it's so hard ;_; I've had AP testing this week and so much studying makes me want to hit my head against the wall. The only reason I was able to write this was because I got off school early today.
PanicAtTheEpicness: I'M SORRY! Just... Heh... heh... You'll understand when you read this chapter. BY THE WAY WHAT THE FUCK LAST KORRA EPISODE? JEEZUM!
13shapphire13: Well, she didn't die last chapter... Heh...
Pokeo: I made so many people cry haha! Sorry! Read this chapter and see if you cry or not :D
PhantomFan01: Read and find out! Haha :D
RedDeathLvr: Sorry for the wait ;_; But... Not as sorry as I am... Ugh just read it! Haha :D
TheIdesofMarch: Thanks for the tip! I've been watching for it, but I don't know if I caught myself 100% lol
Number1Werido: Thank you so much! I tried really hard to make a OC character people would love with Erik, that didn't seem to fake or anything. All of the twists and turns may be my spurr of the moment ideas from lack of plotting this story properly, but thank you! Haha
emmagination: Read and see! Hehehehehhee
XxrudexbutxnicexX: I have not given up, do not worry!
Writing this now seems… irrelevant.
Why should I be pouring my soul onto this simple sheet now of all times? Why is it now that I feel the sudden urge to write? Why do I give in to this sweet seduction of the pen, this forceful pull of the paper? How can I find words where before there were none? What has changed? What curse has been lifted? Am I free? Or am I simply shackled down…
Only time can tell.
But I don't have time. Perhaps this is why these thoughts have decided to come forth from the inner depths of my mind. Maybe the reason that I have become so reflective is because I have so very little time left, that I have unconsciously realized if I do not record these thoughts, they will be lost. Forever.
My entire life, I realize, has been a lie. Nothing that I believed was true. Nothing that I hoped for has come. Everything that I have worked toward has been, or will be, lost. I will die with the regret of lost time, mistaken actions, and untold truths. This entire time I have been naïve, thinking the world to be one way when in reality it has been the opposite.
If only I had known how my end would be… If only fortune had thought to shine upon my hopeless form as it lay blindly upon the world, unknowing it's true intentions. If only… Oh, how I wish to go back. I want to fly through time and disappear into the past, to change the inevitable fate that has been brought upon me by none other than myself.
But now is not the time for wistful thoughts and hopeless dreams. Now is the time for action. I'm not entirely sure what kind of action must be made, or why I must take it. All I know is that I must do something in order to escape this feeling trapped deep within my mind.
I'm not even entirely sure how I am writing this to be completely honest; how am I able to know, to see these words? How am I able to comprehend what is being said? How am I able to allow my hands to dance across this page and flawlessly describe my inner feelings? These things escape me, but somehow bring be a greater sense of peace. Knowing that I am able to do this does not bother me; it feels right, as if this is what I am meant to do at this point in time. I feel as though some warm figure if watching over my shoulder and protecting me. I can feel their soft presence surround me, clearing my mind of all worry or fear of what is going on right now. For some reason, I know that I have all of the time in the world to record my thoughts down for you to see.
Who are you? Why are you gifted with my mind? Does it even matter…? No, I suppose not. I should be lucky that someone, anyone, will be able to hear what I have to say, even if it may mean nothing to you.
My name is Abigail, and I have been blind for the majority of my life. I play the piano, and have been since I was a little girl. The piano has been my life. It saved me from loneliness and senseless troubles. I have gone to music and sounds at the most difficult moments of my life, for it is all that I could go to. My ability to do something in this world has meant everything to me, and the music that I have created from that grand instrument has been exactly what I have been able to control. Not much else was available, but I did what I could with what I had; a pair of hands, a broken soul, and a will to live.
While still young, and still learning how to play, I met a young boy named Doug. He found me in a small fit of terror, bawling over a realization that I might not be able to learn. Doug helped me, and continued to do so for years to come. This is how we became, for lack of a better term, friends. But we weren't friends.
To me, he was my brother. To him, I was his lover.
I have never, not once, been truly blind.
I can see. I can feel. I know. I understand.
From the moment that he fell in love with me, I knew it. Rather than confronting him about it, I chose to ignore it. I knew that he did not know it himself quite yet, that he was slowly developing a fascination for me. While it made me feel slightly uneasy, I never once enjoyed his company any less. Eventually, I grew accustomed of it, and even forgot about it.
This was, I believe, my first mistake.
As the years flew by, me and Doug's lives had become one. We rarely spent a day away from each other. Doug helped me live my life, and to this moment I have no idea how I would have been able to survive if he had never found me crying on the piano.
You could say I owe my life to him.
Funny, isn't it?
I have had the pleasure of becoming good friends with another in my time: Aimee. She, I imagine, is beautiful; a singer, actress, dancer… She is quite spectacular on the stage. We grew close, both of us impacting the other in both positive and negative ways. I laugh as I think of all the times we tried to teach each other our art… I was never able to pick up on Aimee's methods of singing, and she never understood my explanations of music.
Aimee was adventurous as well. She loved the thrill of a lie or the rush of an escape. Because of this, Aimee was the one who decided we should visit the Opera House before it was opened. She managed to convince me, lying and saying that it had already opened. I was foolish enough to believe her, and was dragged along as we broke into perhaps the most famous building in the country.
This was my second mistake.
Inside, we both were taken aback. I could smell the must and dust; an antique feeling filled the air around me. I went inside to look around, not knowing I would not be coming back out.
This is where I met him, the man who I despise beyond anything that I can imagine. He was the one who ruined my life forever… The one who trapped me inside of his prison, the one who attempted to corrupt my mind with his depression, his lunacy, his horrid mind…
But, he was also the man that I came to appreciate. He was the man that I came to adore, to enjoy, to wake every morning to and be happy that he was there. I decided to change him, to be with him. It was my goal in life to alter his negative opinions of the world, to make him come to see the light.
I had fallen in love with the Phantom of the Opera…
…And it was my final mistake.
It had been so hard to resist his lure, his unknown aura of desperation. He was so lost and confused, how could I simply abandon him? So many times I had been allowed to run for the hills, to forget about the monster under the Opera House. And yet, I stayed in my tiny cell. Patient and willing, I remained in what probably should have been an infinite hell of despair and mental torture. But it wasn't. He was rude and angry, but that faded with time. He became charming and sweet; he transformed from a beast, and became a man.
He became who I have come to know as Erik.
By his side, I felt…
Useful. Needed. Loved. Cherished. I felt as though I finally found my perfect match; He guided me as I guided him. My blindness allowed me to see his true form: of scars and roses. I loved him for what he offered me, and he, I believe, loved me for my ability to see him for who he was.
This may not seem very romantic, but I don't believe love it supposed to be like that. I don't think that there was anything there beyond this simple truth, the truth that we needed each other. Desperately. What more could one wish for from another? To have the security and realization that without the other you would succumb to something neither of you really wanted to think about was complete bliss.
I could have spent the rest of my life with Erik. But I suppose I have, haven't I? If that, then my only regret is that I did not spend enough time by his side, guiding him and aiding him in his battle against himself.
It's almost sad to come to the conclusion of these thoughts, for I know they will be my last. I feel the warm light behind me warning me that my end if fast approaching. This should frighten me, I think, but I am not afraid. I should be confused, but I am calm. I should be upset and regretful; I should be begging this presence behind me for a few more years, or months, days or hours.
But I am peaceful.
I am happy.
I am ready for death; I great him with open arms. My time has come, I know this much.
My only fear is for the ones I leave behind.
Reader, I may not know you. I may never speak to you, or know your story. I may never touch you, or hug you… I may never look into your eyes and truly understand you… But, if it is not too much to ask, would you tell my friends that I love them, and forgive them, and that I cannot wait to see them again in another world, and another life.
Thank you.
Erik sat patiently next to Abigail. He waited, glancing to a small clock that would yell out the time every thirty minutes in a rather odd sort of voice. Erik made a mental note to ask her about it once she woke up.
Because Abigail would wake up any minute now of course. She had to wake up. It was impossible for her to not wake up. After all, how much sleep did one person need? Erik shook his head, and changed her bandage for the third time in two hours. She was bleeding rather profusely, despite Erik's less than stellar stitching job. Erik chose to ignore this fact, however, along with the fact that her breathing had begun to slow.
She was fine… Perfectly and completely normal. Just about average. She was content. Abigail just didn't want to wake up, that was all. Nothing out of the ordinary. She did enjoy sleeping, right? Of course she did. Nobody didn't like sleep. Abigail was probably just tired from getting shot, that's all.
Erik began to sing as he wove a new bandage around her wound.
When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I...
Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I...
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Erik frowned, but shook off an odd feeling that began to rise in his stomach. He moved his thoughts to other topics.
What if someone was to come to the house? Erik looked down at Abigail. Blood was sprayed out in every direction; the table, floor, walls… even the ceiling managed to get some blood splashed across it. Abigail herself looked… Well… Sleeping. Yes. Sleeping. That was the word. Her pale skin is just because she is cold of course.
Erik decided to get her out of the torn dress and clean up a bit. He gently lifted Abigail's limp body off of the table and carried her to the bedroom. After a slight struggle, he managed to rid her of the destroyed outfit and dressed her in black pants and a black tank top. After laying her down on her bed and kissing the top of her head, he managed to tear himself away from her motionless form and clean the mess he had created.
It took him almost three hours.
By the time Abigail's house resembled more of a house than a gore machine, it was almost six in the morning. Erik sighed as he made his way back to Abigail, his body feeling tired for the first time that he could remember. He shook his head slowly, eyes staring at the ground, afraid of what he would find when he finally went back to her.
Erik stopped at the doorway and looked up. He gasped.
A ghost white Abigail was smiling weakly at him, sitting up in the bed.
"O-o-ow." Abigail hissed as his body connected with hers. Erik was squeezing her, and hugging her, and never wanted to let go. He was sobbing and choking, abandoning all of the fears that he was holding inside of him.
"Abigail…" he whispered.
Erik felt a small hand wrap around his neck. He looked up to see her familiar dead eyes staring back at him, a few tears rolling down her own cheeks.
"H-Hi, Erik."
"I thought I lost you."
Abigail's smile quivered. She slowly shook her head, holding something back.
"What's wrong, Abigail?" he said quickly, "Are you okay?"
Abigail let out a painful laugh, placing a hand on each of his cheeks. She slowly rubbed his face, shaking her head all the while. Erik was confused but said nothing as she went from his cheeks to his hair to his shoulders, just silently taking him in with her touch.
"Bring m-me to the piano?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Of course!" he said cheerfully, glad she was well enough to play. He scooped her frail body into his arms, and rushed her to the piano. After carefully placing her on the seat, he himself sat down beside her and waited expectantly.
But she simply sat there, a few tears still rolling down her cheeks, her eyes wide. Erik frowned. Something was wrong.
Just as he was about to say something, Abigail rose her shaky hands to the keys. She slowly began a note, and then another one, and then another. Slowly but surely, Abigail began to play a piece that Erik did not recognize. But oh, how it sounded…
It was as if she was explaining something to him. The way she combined the notes and the flow of the tone, it sounded as if she was speaking directly to him. As Erik listened to this exotic music, he watched as her hands began to fly across the keys, diving over and under one another to get the perfect note in just at the right moment. It was as if her hands were performing their own art… The art of dance. Finally, the song began to slow, and soon became recognizable.
And then, suddenly, she looked up to Erik, staring at him as she began to sing.
When will I see you again?
You left with no goodbye,
Not a single word was said,
No final kiss to seal any scene,
I had no idea of the state we were in,
I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,
And a wandering eye, and heaviness in my head,
But don't you remember?
Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember me once more,
When was the last time you thought of me?
Or have you completely erased me from your memory?
I often think about where I went wrong,
The more I do, the less I know,
But I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,
And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head,
But don't you remember?
Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember me once more,
Gave you the space so you could breathe,
I kept my distance so you would be free,
And hoped that you'd find the missing piece,
To bring you back to me,
Why don't you remember?
Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember you used to love me,
When will I see you again?
Abigail choked out a sob, but never lost a beat in the song. She continued on with her own music for a minute with Erik carefully watching her. She fought with herself internally, shuddered, and then looked back up at him again. Her hands began to stomp on the keys, giving off a much more determined and strong song.
She began to sing,
I let it fall, my heart
And as it fell, you rose to claim it
It was dark and I was over
Until you kissed my lips and you saved me
My hands, they were strong, but my knees were far too weak
To stand in your arms without falling to your feet
But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win
But I set fire to the rain
Watched it pour as I touched your face
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
When laying with you I could stay there
Close my eyes, feel you here forever
You and me together, nothing is better
'Cause there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true
And the games you's play, you would always win, always win
But I set fire to the rain
Watched it pour as I touched your face
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When we fell, something died
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time
Sometimes I wake up by the door
That heart you caught must be waiting for you
Even now when we're already over
I can't help myself from looking for you
I set fire to the rain
Watched it pour as I touch your face
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When we fell, something died
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time, oh
Oh, no
Let it burn, oh
Let it burn
Let it burn
She slowed to a stop, gasping for air. For a few moments, Erik was stunned, unsure of what to do or how to react.
But he didn't have to, for Abigail fell backwards onto the ground.
"Abigail!" he screamed, jumping down from the chair.
She did not respond.
"Abigail!" he cried, patting her cheek a few times, trying to get her to wake up. But her eyes remained unmoving, and the relaxed expression on her face did not twitch at his touch. He checked for breathing.
None.
He checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
Erik lifted up her tank top.
The stitches had burst open. Blood had gushed from it, but now stopped.
Erik could not move. He could not think. He could hardly breathe.
What was going on? What… When… Why?
….
No tears came. No sobs burst forth.
Erik sat on the cold floor holding his little pianist close, rocking her back and forth as he whispered sweet nothings into her unhearing ear, gazed into her unseeing eyes, but did not touch her unfeeling lips, for death had already stolen her kiss today.
-runs and hides-