I feel that I should warn you of a scene with drunk males in their 20's – 30's. The rating is teen.
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"Sir. You know, we could call you if she woke up."
Raoul hesitated. "Call me as soon as she wakes."
"We'll make sure to," the nurse looked up from her charts taking in the handsome man behind her. I wish my fiancé was that hot.
Raoul hesitated before walking out the door. "As soon as she wakes up."
"I promise."
Raoul walked out the door running his hand through his blonde hair.
Christine groaned. "Too bright."
The nurse ran over to the light switch and adjusted the lights. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been run over."
"You have. You have been unconscious for nearly two weeks. We were beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up. How many fingers am I holing up?"
"Four."
"What is your name?"
"Christine Marie Daae."
"What day is today?"
Christine thought for a moment. "Wednesday."
"Good. I'll call in the doctor to see you. Oh, and call your eye candy. He hasn't left your side for more than half an hour these past two weeks. Wish George was that dedicated," she grumbled as she left the room.
"Oh, Erik." Raoul stood outside the door listened. "Why did you have to complicate things? Why can't life just be simple?"
Raoul walked in holding a Starbucks coffee cup. "Who's Erik."
"No one," Christine answered quickly. She blushed. "It's nice to see you, Raoul."
"It's good to see you're awake. I was so worried," Raoul said, trying to squelch his curiosity about this 'Erik'. "They were just about to give up." I was just about to give up, he thought. "You're really lucky."
"Lucky!" Christine laughed. "I got hit by a bus. Remember?"
"Well, I suppose I gotta give you that one. But you did survive. Didn't your dad ever to tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?" he teased.
"He probably mentioned it once or twice." Christine thought of her over-protective father. "You know, he never would let me learn to ride a bike. He was so afraid I'd get hit by a car or something on my way to the pool." They laughed.
"Remember how we used to sneak into my house and watch PG-13 movies."
"Even after we were thirteen."
"Ah, old habits die hard."
The glass door slid open. "Well good afternoon, Miss Daae. I guess it would be pointless to ask if you were feeling well," the doctor jested.
"Good point, Dr. -"
"Naismith. At your service." He shook Christine's hand.
"I'm sorry, Christine. I have to go to a mandatory meeting. I'll be back later." He smiled weakly.
"See you later," Christine grinned.
"Well. Let's see." Dr. Naismith flipped through her charts. "There is slight atrophying of the muscles and you broke three ribs and cracked two more, along with breaking your left arm, but otherwise you were quite lucky." He chuckled. "No internal damage. You should be able to check out sometime tomorrow."
"Wonderful! I must be so late on a couple deadlines."
"Ah. There is one more matter," he blushed. "When they were – ah – undressing you, they found... well, some unusual scarring. It looks a bit like flowers of some sort. Well, they were documented for fear of your mental health, but when a nurse came in the other night to change the bedclothes, it was noted that there were several more. We watched this condition each night, and each morning there would be a new scar." Dr. Naismith ran his hand through his hair and threw himself down onto a chair. "I looked through everything. Every medical book known to doctors and found nothing. I was desperate. I told my wife about your case and she advised me to look into supernatural sources. I didn't know what else to do." He walked over to the window and pretended to look out. "A psycic told me that you had made a contract with some ghost or something. She told me that I better pray that the spirit let you go of its own volition. She gave me this to give to you if you woke up." Christine accepted the sealed white envelope. "I hope Miss Daae that you get better soon. I'll be back tomorrow to sign your release forms. Bye." He started walking out the door.
"Wait!"
"Yes?"
"Does Raoul know?"
The doctor sighed. "No. He doesn't."
"Thanks," Christine said sincerely.
"No problem." He bowed out of the room.
Christine sat looking at the letter. It couldn't hurt. I'll just peek. She paused. That's what got me in trouble earlier. Maybe it is best if I didn't know. But – the doctor – he seemed so concerned. I'll just read it. It can't hurt me.
She opened the letter mangling the edges of the envelope in her hurry.
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Christine -
You are probably beating yourself up for your decision. Rightly so. What you did was stupid. I may be able to help you rectify the situation.
I couldn't tell from my scrying if you bound yourself to a demon or a very powerful spirit, but whomever you bound yourself to is stronger than anything I have ever encountered.
You must come to see me as soon as you can. Everyday your bond with him will grow stronger. I only hope that it is not too late already. Your possessor will slowly integrate himself into your aura until finally you no longer have the will to leave him. Come to see me as soon as you possibly can. I can't stress how important this is. I may be able to free you of him forever.
Katie Simmons-Shriver
P.S. My cell number is 576-2303. My address is 1504 S. Michigan St.
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Shit. This is deeper than I thought.
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"How's that bitch of yours Raoul?"
"Does she fuck real good?"
I never should have come, Raoul thought.
"Oh, don't tell me you haven't yet," Phillipe lamented. "You really out to man it up and just fuck her. Or are you too busy handing her flowers and reciting poetry like a little girl?"
"Asshole," Raoul gritted his teeth, keeping his gaze fixed on his beer.
"Whoa, he actually can swear," Drew mocked from across the table.
"What, are you afraid that dear Mommy is going to wash out your mouth with soap," Blake sing-songed.
"Shut the fucking hell up."
"Whoaaa!" All three of the other men cried together. They laughed drunkenly as Raoul stared sourly at his drink. He had been nursing it for the last few hours. Why the hell did I come?
"I'm leaving," he stated quietly.
"Going to go stare at your precious whore, you fag?" Phillipe cackled.
"Goodbye." Raoul walked out stiffly, tossing a few bills onto the counter.
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I looked around my room. The keys Erik had given me lay innocently on my vanity, all in a perfect row. I had never woken up alone in his house before. I grabbed the keys and went exploring. I was bored from spending all afternoon alone in the hospital.
I opened a door and came upon his library. His library was everything I thought a library ought to be. It was dark, but warm with those ladders that slide, and every couple of shelves you would come on an overstuffed armchair with a small end-table next to it. I never actually saw the walls to this rooms – it just seemed to go on forever. I had spent a good amount of time of my imprisonment – no, stay – with Erik in this room, pouring over the infinite shelves. If I went in one direction for long enough, I found that the books started to be in foreign languages, some I could not even start to recognize. Some of the books were so old that I was afraid to touch them, lest they fall apart in my hands. I looked hurriedly through a few shelves and sensed that Erik was not in the dark library.
I walked back out into the silent hallway. The hallways were always cold. I never knew why. I mentioned it to Erik and he mumbled something about have to provide heat to infinity or something like that. They were grey too. The most bland, generic shade of gray you could ever imagine. You could goo insane from the dullness of those hallways. I closed the library door behind me and inserted a different key into the door's lock. Instantly I could hear Erik playing the organ.
All the stops were pulled out and he was playing his "Don Juan Triumphant." It was more beautiful now. Sweeping runs came together and, just as quickly, flew apart again like two magnets. He paused to write on the sheet music sitting on the stand.
"Good evening," he greeted, not even looking away from the score. "I apologize for not being there when you awoke. I felt so inspired and had to write this section down."
"It's O.K."
He sighed and turned to me. He wasn't wearing his mask as he had taken to not doing after I had seen his face. "Erik is so lucky to have his Christine who forgives him." My throat closed up. How could I ever be rid of him? How could I do that to him? "Christine is here for her lesson, yes?" I nodded. "Then she must have it! Come. Come stand by the piano." He leapt up and sat at the Steinway. "What would Christine like to do today? Would she like to work on Pelleas et Melisande or on a new piece I wrote for her?"
"The piece you wrote would be O.K."
"Of course it will, come stand by me. I haven't had time to make a copy for myself."
"It's dark as midnight
At half past ten.
The absence of all light
Is paramount.
Color leeched away,
By the light of the moon.
Black and white.
White and black.
Evil and good.
Good and evil.
No one hides at night.
No one lies.
No one sees at night.
For Night, like love is blind.
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Not my best attempt at poetry, I know. Pretty atrocious, in fact. Want to see better? Keep reviewing. Visit my profile. I have a better one that I think I will use in a future chapter. Oh, and the reference in this chapter is an accidental historical reference to a sport I sucked at.
Yours Truly,
Raven Sharpe
posted (03-??-10)