A/N: Just a quick explanation on the change in verb tense. The visits of the "spirits" are explained by Christine as they happened. The chapters following the visits are a continuation of the letter to Mama Valerius. Once she finishes her letter it shall be back to the present tense. Hope this removes any confusion! Thank you for all the kind reviews!
Oh Mama...I know that I was committing the gravest of sins. Suicide is the truly unforgivable sin, no? No forgiveness, no last rites, no burial in the cemetery with my blessed parents. But I believed that was my due punishment, I had broken this man to the point that there was no bandaging and healing of wounds. My heart and soul were possessed and now broken as the man who owned them.
But events have a strange way of turning Mama...the tides at le Mont Saint Michele are small compared to ones I have endured in this short life. Obviously my attempt was unsuccessful, and for that I thank my angel. Let me explain...
There was a sudden interruption of my frozen reverie. I was pulled by arm and hair to the surface. The blast of frigid air hurt as much as the strong grip in my tangled hair. I fought that grip- twisting, coughing and sputtering as I tried to resist being pulled back to the bank.
"You damned fool!" He tossed me onto the ground, hovering over me with the air of a vengeful angel as his hands began wringing the water from my clothes and hair. "How could you think to do such a thing?"
I could not answer, my teeth were chattering hard enough for my entire head to shake and the once blissful cold of the water was now a painful sting upon my skin. Erik was as drenched as myself, I could feel the drops falling from him and knew he must be just as horridly uncomfortable.. I was truly frozen in place as he draped his dry cloak around me, hating that I relished not only the warmth of the material but also the familiar scent upon it.
He lifted me as if my weight were no consequence, soaked or not, and began to walk towards the tunnel I had been so recently ordered to. His ability to see so well in the dark had never ceased to amaze me. Erik easily maneuvered through passageways that I could have never managed in the darkness.
"Nnn...no...du..du..du don't t..t..take me...buh...b. .back." My shaking, such violent tremors that Erik's arms trembled from it, made my attempt at speech sound utterly ridiculous, but I could not return to the surface. I wanted to...deserved to...perish in those black waters.
"You little fool...you would never make it." His voice was as steady as he made another turn before carefully setting me upon my feet. One arm remained to bolster me as the other reached and opened a door that I had not noticed, though it was but inches from me. A welcoming warmth flowed from the small room as Erik ushered me in.
A small coal stove was providing the warmth, the light from emanating from several candles. I turned, glancing around the room. It was filled mostly by Erik, his imposing height seemed to dominate the space. I recognized few other things save his violin and the music box. The small bed, chair and table were furnishings I assumed he had pilfered from the Opera after it had been evacuated.
"Here." He handed me a length of cotton and when I stood dumbly looking at it, Erik proceeded to wrap my wet hair in it and set to work drying it.
Minutes of blotting removed the weight of the water from my hair. I began to laugh as I pictured the infamous Opera Ghost as a lady's maid. "Such fearsome tactics to scare the ballet rats would never work." My laughter turned raucous, to the point of tears dripping down my cheeks.
Erik stood there staring at me as if I had lost my mind...perhaps it had frozen in the lake with the remainder of any good sense I had. Finally he broke away and moved to the bed, pulling the blanket from it. He gestured towards the screen in the corner.
"Unless you wish to catch your death, you should not remain in those soaked garments."
I set my jaw stubbornly and pulled the wrap from my hair. "I am quite comfortable and require no further assistance other than to borrow a candle. I will then take my leave of you."
"And have you attempt another crossing my dear? Your attempt to walk on water was unsuccessful the first time. Perhaps the second attempt will give you the abilities of Christ? I think not. Now change before the hypothermia worsens and you invite pneumonia into those lungs."
His infernal calm and logic just angered me more.
"It will be a slower death, perhaps, but the end result will be the same." I retorted sharply.
His eyes flared anger, his cold hands pulling the cape from me before roughly turning me and unfastening my dress, heedless to the buttons flying off at such brutal treatment.
"Why Christine?" I did not know if he was talking to himself or expected me to answer.
"Why? I try to free you, to give you the life you deserve...not this...this thing..."
Erik pulled the ruined cloth from me, the goose flesh upon my blue tinged skin burning as he did so. "You have freedom...life...and you try to drown! What the hell is wrong with you? I am the one sentenced to die here...not you!"
"Wh..why Erik?" My petticoats, stockings and shoes were removed with efficiency, leaving me clad in wet corset and shift.
"Why? You will catch your death of cold if you stay in these." He was the epitome of avoidance now, refusing to look at me in such a state of undress.
"NO! Why are you sentenced to die here? I deserve that as much, if not more than you!"
"Here Christine, I will drape the blanket so you change."
"Damn it Erik! Will you listen to one word I am saying?" I snatched said blanket and threw it across the room, before looking back to one very shocked man. "Be angry with me, hate me if you like, but don't take away my choice again! It is my choice whether I want to live in misery or to end it all! And why does it concern you now? You made it clear you certainly don't want me..."
"Little fool..." Erik walked over, picked up the discarded blanket and wrapped it around me. His hands came up to my face then, his cold fingertips tracing my equally cold jawline. I closed my eyes at the gentle touch, as light as his fingers ever were upon the strings of his violin. I was dizzy, so affected by that touch, I wasn't sure if I heard or imagined the next words from him before the trauma and stress of everything finally blacked the world from my eyes.
"It is the wanting of you that will be the death of me."
TBC