Thursday
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Raoul braced himself for today's torture. Nothing happened. He cautiously let his guard down and laughed at his foolishness. Maybe today he would be freed. Maybe he would be able to go back with Christine. Such warm thoughts brought light to the darkness around him.
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Christine looked out the window as the scenery flew by. She reached the country road and turned onto it again.
She wandered aimlessly in the woods for hours, as if saying goodbye one last time.
White flowers caught her eye and she picked a bouquet to take to the hospital room. Flowers were gently carried so that no petal was crushed.
She looked down at her hands and saw the bloodstains. Her screams echoed in the forest and flowers fell to the ground. The red refused to come off, but it was already ingrained into her skin. Christine looked down at the evil flowers and saw they were bleeding also. She shuddered and stepped into her car, shaking the whole way back to the hospital.
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"I missed you last night, my dear," Erik quietly commented from his dark corner. I could barely make out his figure, his white hands playing with a dead rose. "Quite a pity, actually. I was going to give you a gift." His voice was saturated in false sorrow. "Ah well. I guess I shall have to give it to you now." He stepped into the light and led me to the blank wall of the music room. He took off him mask and examined the wall closely. He spanned his long hands over a certain area and pressed his forehead against the wall and whispered something.I gasped as the wall disappeared and left a gaping black hole.
"I will let you talk to him. You only have a short while. I will be nearby," He warned me as he turned on his heel and disappeared.
"Raoul?"
"Christine?"
I stepped into the room. I embraced his thin frame. He was almost as thin as Erik. He trembled and I felt his tears wet my shoulder. "I missed you so much."
"Christine! You need to get out of here! Leave me here! He'll kill me anyways. Go! Be happy again. I l-love you," he sobbed into my shoulder.
"Listen. Erik gave me a choice. If I marry him, he will let you go... but, if I go free, you'll die. O Raoul, I love you so much. I-I want you to be free. I want you to live. Marry someone else – be happy again."
"No. Christine. We can make it through together. Don't – no matter what you do – don't marry that bastard. Promise me."
"No – Raoul..."
"Promise me, Christine."
"I-I can't..."
"Christine!" Raoul shook her.
"Put her down if you do not wish to die as slow and painfully as I can make it..."
Raoul held on to Christine. "You are already killing me. What's the difference?"
Erik stood at his full height and glared down at us. "I have seen and done things that would make you wet your pants, you fop. Your puny, miniscule imagination is incapable of comprehending the horrors I could put you through before you died. I could make you beg for death."
Raoul glared at Erik. "Try me, you bastard. I was in the armed forces for a good portion of my life and my father fought in the Gulf Wars."
Erik didn't even answer. I gasped as the ground disappeared from underneath me. I heard Raoul's cry of pain as Erik carried me to my room. I could feel the anger radiating from him. He tossed me into a chair and started tying my feet.
"The boy will be punished. You will stay here. You still have one more day. I will be back. Then we can sing. Rest my dear."
Erik strode out and I was afraid for Raoul. Would he even let him go if I agreed to marry him? I waited for what seemed like hours. Struggling against the ropes was impossible. They were a soft material that was tied perfectly, so that there was no way to wiggle free. He was a pro.
When he finally returned, he had changed clothes and he was wearing gloves. He untied me silently. He helped me out of the chair and supported me as he took me to the music room. He said nothing, just sat at the piano and played song after song. It soothed me and I felt almost happy. I just sat silently in the warm leather chair, just listening to the jazz pouring from the piano. I slowly fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
