Monday
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Raoul woke to the utter silence. He had curled into a ball under the tree, praying that Erik wouldn't kill him in his sleep. He sighed. And couldn't hear it.
"Hello?" It was lost in the silence. He stood and beat the wall with his fists. And didn't feel it. So this is today's torture. Raoul sank to the floor, trying to focus on Christine.
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"You're late!" Christine jumped. She checked the clock.
"By one minute. And that clock is always five minutes fast."
"You're still late and I will not tolerate such in my publishing company." She grinned at Christine's horrified expression. "Oh, yes. It is mine now, thanks to my dear late husband. May he rest in peace." She dramatically sniffled. "And you -" She shoved her long nailed hand into Christine's chest, "you are going to improve your production or you will be fired! You have gotten nothing finished in the last three weeks! I have several new books for you to go through. You will edit them and they will be on my desk on Monday or else you're fired!" By the end of her schpiel, Carlotta was screeching at the top of her lungs and the entire comb of cubicles was staring at the tall, red-faced woman.
Christine buried her raw hatred and nodded. "I apologize," she said through her teeth. "I will get right on it."
"See that you do, you lazy -"
"Mrs. Guidicelli, I need -"
"It's Senora Guidicelli!" she yelled.
Christine, glad for the distraction snuck back to her cubicle.
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"She is even more horrible than before! And those manuscripts she gave me – they're utter crap! She's only going to publish them because her best friend wrote them!" Christine ranted.
"I told you so," Katie smirked.
"Ugh! And if I don't get those three books done by Monday, I'm fired." Christine looked up at Katie. "I'll probably be married to Erik in a week anyways. I don't even know why I try." A lone, cold tear ran down her face.
"Well, you know, if you're dead, you won't have to worry about that hag," Katie jested.
Christine choked on a laugh. "That's true."
"And isn't your husband rich?"
"Yeah."
"So quit."
"But... I guess you're right. I don't have to deal with Senora Guidicelli." She smiled. It all made sense now. Her smile fell. "Either way – I'm either a widow or dead. What wonderful choices," she remarked bitterly.
"You get what you've paid for."
"More like, I pay for what I've gotten."
"Look – I can't tell you what to do. That's against the rules. You have a week. Think it over."
"Thanks, Katie."
"No problemo, kid."
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"I quit."
"What? You cannot quit! I – I won't let you."
"Just this morning, you wanted me gone. I'm leaving."
"Fine! We don't need you anyways!"
"I give my two week notice."
"That's not necessary! You will be gone by one today. Clean out your desk. If you are any later than that, I'll call security."
"That's in only 15 minutes!"
"So?"
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Christine sighed heavily as she hefted the heavy box onto the table beside Raoul's bed. "I love you. I know I do. You're a great guy. You could hurt anything if you tried. You love me so much. I wish I hadn't dragged you into this mess. My mess. You didn't deserve any of this. I don't deserve you. I never did. I should have just been happy with my boring editing job. I am so stupid!" She picked up his hand and held it gently. "I can't do this alone, Raoul. You have to help me. Please. I love you." She started to sing,
Dare to be happy.
Just Dare.
It won't kill you.
Just someone you love.
Dare to be happy.
Dare to Love.
Dare to escape misery
This one blessed hour.
Dare to be happy.
Just Dare.
It won't kill you
Just... someone you-"
Christine broke down into sobs.
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Raoul dug at the skin of his arms. He screamed until he could scream no more. Nothing worked. He suffocated in the stifling silence.
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"How beautiful!" The paintings before me were spectacular. They stretched from the high ceiling to the floor. I stood agape at the grand swirl of color. He had captured every aspect of natural beauty, from grandiose sunsets to the fragile mist suspended over the waters.
"They are merely memories from some of my travels that I tried to create a pathetic replica of, a mere shadow of what they were."
"So... you cook, you build houses, you are a doctor – what do you not do?"
"Die."
"Must you be so morbid?"
"I am morbidity. There is a certain beauty to death. It is so simple, so finite, so permanent. God has deemed that I live a long, miserable life. There is only one thing more beautiful than death to me." He stared at me like the answer was obvious.
I cleared my throat. "Can we go have dinner now?"
He nodded and led me from the room.
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Erik lavished attentions on me. I received them as politely as I could. I silently wondered how Raoul was faring. I wondered if Erik would even let him go if I decided to drink the red wine. Would he just murder him anyways, just for loving me?
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Erik closed the lid of the piano. "I should not have had you sing tonight. I believe you are coming down with something. I will go get some tea." He left. I sat in the silence of the music room, absently looking through the numerous opera scores lining the walls. I was next to the organ when I heard it. It sounded like someone was brokenly mumbling. I couldn't make out the words, but I followed the sound to the blank wall to the left of the organ. I ran my hand along the wall, looking for the door. I knew that if only I could find that door, I would see Raoul and everything would be alright.
Erik cleared his throat. "I made some tea with Echinacea. It has a high vitamin C content and will help you heal faster." I knew that he knew. He knew that I knew. His eyes challenged me to say something about it. He gestured towards the brown leather chair. I broke eye contact and sat in the deep chair. "If you are sick, I will not have you sing in the contest. You must cancel." He sighed. "Oh well." He poured two cups of tea. I picked up my cup. He didn't touch his.
"Maybe another time," I suggested. We both knew, though, that I never would.
"Yes, maybe another time..."
I sighed. "At least I don't have to go to work in the morning."
"Yes," he smiled, "I saw that. I have been wanting to do something about that woman for a while now." An awkward silence stretched as we both sat thinking of Piangi.
"Why did you kill him?" I whispered finally.
"He would only have hurt you."
"But why did you have to murder him? He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but I'm sure he was a good person."
"A good person?" Erik chuckled. "He was cheating on his wife with three other women, he bought Leferve Publishing with stolen money, and he had a thriving illegal opium business on the side. He knew nothing about books.. He only bought the business so that he had a legitimate front for some of his illegal activities."
"That still doesn't justify murder."
"You know why I killed him."
"Yes."
"The same reason you were searching that wall. You'll never find the door, you know. Seeing him wouldn't make anything easier, anyways."
I turned my back to him, trying to hide my tears. He crept up behind me and wiped a tear away. "Erik is sorry. He doesn't want to make Christine cry. She just needs to realize how much Erik loves her. She just needs to accept his love. He won't even ask for anything in return. Just don't turn away from me, Christine. Please. It would kill your Erik."
I turned around and embraced him. This was wrong. I knew it was. Seeking to comfort a murderer, a kidnapper, an insane man, it was all so wrong, so twisted. I just couldn't take being alone anymore.
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Here it is. Let's see... there are five more days and an epilogue/really long author's note. Thank you in advance for your suggestions, they help make me a better author, therefore making this story better for you.
There aren't any more movie/book references – sorry Muse. I wrote the rest of this over vacation, so I'll be posting rather rapidly for awhile.
Happy birthday to me,
Raven Sharpe
(posted 04-13-10)
(still not old enough to be of any importance)