Chapter 11:
Error

I wish I could go back in time and be convinced that this was a bad idea. The car was literally speeding down the highway, going around the cars, and I thought he may just kill us both. All I could do was bury my head in my hands and sob, looking away from the window at the dizzying feeling he's going to hit someone.

"Is he going to kill Raoul?" I asked feeling very guilty suddenly getting Raoul and Meg into this. Erik didn't answer, still very angry. "Please!" I sobbed. "Just let me go!" I hissed, cupping my head into my knees.

"Christine, I love you... I cannot let you go." He said quietly, and then I felt his eyes burn into the back of my head, and he pleaded once more, "Stop crying, Christine..."

I moaned, looking over to the window as it began to rain again, as if that sort of omen was my least wanted. It beat on the roof of the car as he drove, hiding my sobs and small groans as I rolled over onto the seat, scared of what he may do now.

"Christine didn't mean to leave her poor Erik, right?" He asked when I couldn't produce any more tears, I couldn't hurt myself more. I felt numb to the bone, as someone put this entire event on hiatus in the car. I didn't answer, looking out the window still. "After all I've done for you, all I've provided you, you still want to run away like an ungrateful brat!"

I didn't know what I was thinking, but I was starting to believe those heartbreaking words, painstakingly being impaled into my mind. It made no sense... He tried to make me comfortable in the most oddest ways. I'm just so stupid... how could he love me?

"I know you're better than that, Christine," He added gently, seeing my hurt, "You could have just told me... If it made you happy, I would have let you see the boy again."

"No, you wouldn't, Erik," I spat back at him. "You can't contain me like I'm your pet who you teach to sing and claim for yourself. It's not your right even as a guardian!"

He didn't respond once more which began to make me angry. I rolled my hands into fists and I glared to him in the rear-view mirror, "You don't listen, either! You only hear what you want to hear." I accused sourly, leaning against the door as if it might just open that way.

The rest of the ride was silent as I thought over what more I could do against him, but there was nothing. A "police man" coming after us and accusing random things... if Erik could persuade someone to do that much, could he persuade someone to do even worse using that alluring voice of his? Definitely a man I could not play with fire with, and I was stupid and flustered of thinking otherwise. I've hurt him, just as I knew I would, and all he asks for is love... I still don't see how I could love him.

We were back at that damned mansion again, in front of it with its glowing elegance and Gothic style that holds so much in its walls that I couldn't bear it. Now I was caged back into it again, like a prisoner, and chained down with pity, and numb like I was put on ice for days on end. I felt drained and useless as I drudged into the warm house that was just as dull and lifeless inside as I felt. Walking through these doors not but three months ago, not knowing what awaited me which consequently I shuddered.

I should have stayed at the house with six children, an OCD mother and workaholic father that was just as moody as his wife. Or maybe the one with a 14-year-old brat who was spoiled rotten when I came to the house, and I felt like Cinderella doing the work that she was supposed to do. Anything would be better than here... I suppose it's cold hard facts that hurt the most right now.

Once we were through the door I began dragging myself up the stairs back to the familiar room that once was brilliant in the house that once held so much wonder. He didn't stop me, of course, and in fact, he followed me up the stairs and right when I stepped into the room, he slammed the door on my face and I heard the lock click. I was expecting that.

Now, I was lonely. Anne wasn't there to give company, Erik was angry, and I was miserable and tired and bewildered by just about everything. I'm not used to things changing this quickly, the air I breathe becoming strange... I needed to slow down for just two seconds and when those few moments are over, I was going to go out of my mind.

I slept for only a few hours into the early morning and then laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling, humming to myself random notes, that I didn't even know I was humming until the door began to open and my voice rose a little.

Erik walked in and placed the tray on the table and I rose from my bed, waiting for him to say something, and then he walked away, ignoring that I even existed. I grimaced as he slammed the door in my face once more, as I was intending on following him out, feeling slightly ghost-like.

I looked at the tray, my stomach grumbling, and began to chew on the bacon slowly, to give me something to do in at least ten minutes.

I resorted to writing things down in my journal, thoughts that have probably been mentioned before and possibly every detail I remembered on the mall trip to being torn away by Erik, though it was hardly detailed, I felt dizzy just remembering it.

I drew a few things... the ring on my hand, trees... a house overlooking the sea. Random thoughts that I sporadically placed on a sheet of paper. Even designs that I never knew I could finish until I wasn't given a choice.

I read my worn copy of Oliver Twist which occupied a lot of my time, and fell asleep again for no reason until Erik came in to deliver lunch and then walk out. This time I had to plead for him to say something, anything, and he only brushed away my hand and walked out.

Surprised, I backed away, simply aghast... he was that angry. I knew it was going to be this critical to our relationship, if we had anything, but it seemed to brush by my face in a violent way by just facing it head-on.

He ignored me for an entire day, only coming in for about twenty seconds for each meal, and then left without a second glance. I went to sleep without so much as a reaction from Erik.

And the next day... The same exact thing. I didn't know time could be so long and stretched out. I suppose it's just like what happens as they say in stories... time goes by so slowly, it's like watching a clock move in slow-motion.

I felt denied of everything without being able to turn back and say otherwise. I felt helpless and horrible, and so guilty. Guilty for harming Erik, for getting Raoul too involved and he could be anywhere right now, dead or alive, and Meg being so involved. I keep calling myself stupid, but I don't know what I wanted to do, I didn't know who I should rely on. I didn't know what I could do for Erik... How could he want me anymore? I've turned him away so many times, I've denied his presence, I've stripped his dignity, why does he keep me here? How could someone such as him still want me here?

I looked at my eyes that were beginning to water in the mirror. I'm so horrible...

The next day, Erik found me laying on the bed, wrapped in so many messy sheets and mixed up between sleeping and being conscious at the same time. He shook his head, delivering the meal, and then began to walk out, and I heard him though my eyes were shut, his soft, cat-like footsteps turning away and it was enough to make me shoot up out of the bed, looking to him with big watering eyes, probably looking like such a mess.

He was just about to walk out without a second glance and I grabbed his thin bony shoulder.

"When can I come out?" I whispered and he tried to pull away but I grabbed onto both of them as if it was a life vest. "Answer, please," I whispered brokenly.

"Maybe sometime." His beautiful voice was whispering in my ear.

"Oh, Erik... I'm so sorry..." I sniffed, wiping away my tears, letting go of his shoulder.

"Sure you are." He replied brokenly and shut the door, as usual, in my face and I did nothing but to blink. I wasn't hungry, I felt like I just dropped into cold water, shivering all over, and I slid down the door, praying to God to help me, praying harder then I've ever prayed before. I felt like I would hear something to answer my prayer, but all I heard was silence. Pure, maddening silence.

I shut my eyes and stayed on the ground until I got extremely uncomfortable and moved to my usual spot on the bed, my legs spread out amongst the messy sheets and my hair in a big knot around my head.

I decided to waste more time by taking a shower, and spending a while in the even more condensed space of the bathroom, which later converted into a bath and I lay in the water like usual.

The next meal, at dinner, Erik came into my room once more, and looked at me for a second with my wet hair and warm shower air floating around, and he paused, for once.

"Would you like to sing, Christine?" He asked quietly.

"Yes!" I replied almost too quickly and enthusiastically. I didn't care for the singing part anymore... I just wanted to get out of this room and talk to someone, as he's probably wanted of me for the last few days... to feel desperate. Yes, I can see it in his eyes.

I followed him, feeling like I couldn't walk right as I followed him out into the foyer, and I watched him move like a cat as if it was all new to me.

Ayesha passed along the side of me, turning to stare, glared, and then slowly moved away. Erik bent down gracefully to her level and pet her back affectionately, as if it could save him grace. I watched notedly, Erik and the cat that hates me so much who acts like a person, it was quite an interesting sight to see.

The cat hissed and walked by me again, running away to some other hallway. "Don't mind Ayesha," Erik noted, watching her walk away. "She just doesn't see you enough to get used to having someone else around."

I didn't answer to that, if he was wanting to spark casual conversation, why is he trying to hint it in now using a cat? I guess I was being too picky, so I only nodded, and followed him further to the room that used to be somewhat of a sanctuary before this entire ordeal began, now I didn't know what to think.

He handed me the familiar duet.

"I trust you can perfect it now," He noted as he played an improvised beginning on the piano. I shrugged and then looked it over once more, music being something I couldn't keep note of easily after all this time, denied of sound period. His lovely notes were very welcomed by my ears, playing with the beautiful feeling as usual.

When I heard him sing, it was like heaven was mocking me, that his voice was even better than yours and you don't need his love... His love that he expressed through his music, and that I couldn't begin to deny because it was right there. I wished I could return the same affection but I thought for a second before I began to sing that... I wasn't ready yet.

It was hard to let someone else in after I've been denied my childhood love, and it was Erik who chased away every bit of childish fantasies which is good in a moderate way, but how could it hurt to have some feeling inside leave me if I hardly ever knew it? I didn't want to let go, but what choice did I have?

I sang the final note while thinking these things and I wondered if Erik noticed it for he turned right around and looked at me speculatively.

"That was perfect," He replied gently.

I blinked a few times, slightly puzzled for a second, and then looked at him, my brow furrowed. "Really?" I asked quietly. It was the first time I heard him say those words about my voice, the first sincere compliment I've ever had, and after all we've been through, he still meant it, I could tell. He meant it... I wasn't kidding myself when I thought he could possibly love me still even after I betrayed him ultimately.

I think it was then that I first noticed, as well, that we were completely silent, thinking almost the same things. "Okay," was all I could afford to say.

"It needs a few more technical details to be repaired," He rushed suddenly, turning back to the piano as if that moment never existed, "start on measure 50 where the crescendo begins." He added and I did so, as his voice complimented my own as it rose and fell and rose again, each phrase seeming to mean so much, and mine curiously following him, as if experimenting the honest feeling that he portrayed.

"Oh, that was beautiful," He said after the last phrase. I stood stupidly dumbfounded, and backed away slightly. "Of course you certainly do not want to hear that," He glowered at me.

"What?" I asked quietly, not at all understanding what was real and what wasn't currently.

"Leave, Christine... just go." He shooed me away, turning away and began to play something else that sounded like angry notes blasting on the piano. Beautiful, but furious...

I wished I could just read his mind for once. Just one small thought of what he may be thinking, and then maybe I wouldn't be shooed away because I could help him for once, but that wasn't possible. I've had this situation before... trying to help someone who refuses to be helped. There was a type of longing in his voice when he sang, like he tried to help me find what he was saying but gave up.

So strange, I thought as I shut the door, and remained in the living room, sulking on the couch, folding my legs to my chest, not thinking I could sob right now. I listened to his furious notes playing on the piano, which seemed to be combined into one piece that he has composed before.

It seemed like days until he came out of the music room to find me curled up on the couch, and staring right at him with a tilted head.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say, which made no sense probably, but it was the only thing I knew what to say that could be of any purpose.

"No... no, you're not." He shook his head, and walked away and I watched him leave, before reaching the door that he was about to exit he turned back to me. "Are you hungry?"

Just as he said those words, my stomach grumbled and I nodded in the positive.

"Your dinner is on the table, then." He replied and shut the door behind him, to what I guess was his room as he once labeled. I glared... he didn't want me in there. I didn't want to anger him again in fear of my life no matter how much he says he loves me.

I ate the dinner without him staring at me or trying to ignite conversation while I ate the usual excellently prepared meal. I finished not knowing how much I actually felt alone without him sitting there and being his awkward self during meal time. Usually, at other houses I've been to, I eat silently, looking at the either somewhat good or disgusting food, feeling unnoticed wherever I go. Especially the first home I went to.. I felt dead there. Emptied out and deadened, beat up until I couldn't feel anymore mentally and in some cases, physically. Here, I was loved irrevocably, noticed, pampered, and taken care of and I was still not appreciating it. Erik seemed to need me, more then I noticed that I needed him.

I rose from my seat, feeling horrible all of a sudden, feeling so horrible, I had to grasp my sides to keep from falling apart. I walked out of the dining room, my stomach wanting to eject the food I just ate, sick to my stomach.

I wanted to see Erik again and wrap my arms around him for the first time ever, and sincerely say that I was so sorry for everything I've done.

I walked into the foyer and walked into the dark hallway that he has restricted me not to see... maybe if I apologized, he won't be so mad that I invaded as he's told me not to. I wasn't sure... my heart began to race.

I knocked on the door he went into before and got no answer.

"Erik, can I come in?" I asked, knocking again on the door.

"I told you to go away, Christine," Erik replied, sounding hurt and pained, as if something just got finished beating his frail body up. It was me, I knew it almost knew it.

"Are you alright?" I asked worriedly.

It took him another moment to answer once more. "Yes, don't worry about me..." He sounded even worse now, his beautiful voice degrading into something strained. I then heard coughs that sounded as if it was killing him alive.

Without another word of protest, I opened the door to see him hunched over on the ground in a very dark room with his mask off, grabbing his chest. He was next to this figure in the dark... draped in black. My breathing caught up with me almost in a startled gasp that could sound like a choke, for in the center of the room was a coffin... A coffin... I had to back away slightly despite the man's harmed outlook, but the better of me said to go help him, he was drastically hurt because of something.

I went to him slowly and knelt down beside the crumpled over, slender man who was taking in heaving breaths.

"Do you need some water?" I asked cautiously, and he looked up with those large golden eyes as if just realizing I was there.

"You know where the kitchen is," He supposed quietly and I nodded, careful that if I may touch him he might decompose right in front of me, for once, he was so fragile as a child. "And you know how to make tea, correct?"

"Yes. Tell me what to do. I want to help." I whispered, trying to sound strong for once, panicked in a way and sickeningly worried that he may die in front of me.

"There's a small collection of tea leaves near the tea steeper on the counter, make the Russian bag, please."

I nodded, and rose slightly, looking into his eyes so that he could tell I was indefinitely worried.

"Should I do something else? Do you need to lay down somewhere?" I asked cautiously.

"I'm fine right here, but I'd like very much for you to make that tea."

"Will you be fine here?"

"Yes," He replied quickly, shooing me off. I did as he told me, going into the door I knew was the deserted, yet very large kitchen, decorated with different types of stone and granite counters with silver appliances to match which wasn't very useful considering he never ate... I felt like a mother, almost as I searched for the tea steeper, and found the multiple bags of tea resting near it, all in different languages that I couldn't read, and some in English, so I found the Russian one. I opened the petite bag, and a smell of different spices came to my nose, it smelled delicious, but not something I would drink without any sort of strong sweetener. I shrugged for he didn't specify, so I simply guessed.

I grabbed a tea pot, and filled it with water from the sink, putting it onto the electric stove and waited for it to boil, massaging my temples for it all seemed to happen so fast. He could be in there dying and I can't help him... the poor man... But he slept in a coffin! There was no bed, there was that dreaded thing right there that was so disgustingly dark. I wanted to convince him somehow else to sleep , but I couldn't place words together.

The water quickly finished boiling and I placed it into the tea steeper, putting a few teaspoons of the leaves into the water and let it turn a deep brown, not exactly sure of how long to wait, since the directions were in French and my last French class didn't specify on reading cooking directions. I waited until the smell of the spices was the strongest and assumed it was finished, and began looking through many cabinets for a set of coffee cups or tea cups, or any sort of mug and eventually found them. I poured the freshly made tea into a simple white mug, and carefully walked out of the kitchen to find him laid out on the sofa, his mask back over his face, and coughing still very softly.

I placed the tea onto the end table next to where he laid, looking more at peace than before.

"I wasn't sure on how long to let it be, so it might not be the best."

"That's fine," he replied, grabbing the cup, lifting his mask above his malformed lips, and began to sip at it despite how hot it must have been.

I sat at the chair across from where he lay, careful to not break him again, so I suppose silence was best.

"It's the basket, isn't it?" He asked suddenly looking more distressed as he looked over to me with his dimmer golden eyes.

"The... basket?" I asked turning my head to the side... and then realized what he was talking about. "The coffin?"

"No, it's a Persian cat basket," he replied, seeming bemused.

"But... the shape... I know what a coffin looks like, Erik." I hissed unsteadily.

He coughed a gentle laugh and then looked to me with narrowed eyes, signaling he was smiling through the mug that he lifted to his lips once more. I only glared at him, not amused clearly.

"Fine, you curious little girl, you have me then."

"Why do you have it?" I asked slowly to him.

"One must get used to things for eternity even if it means being in them in life. We all must die eventually."

"That's so gruesome," I replied, not knowing what else, exactly, to say.

"Don't think of it as a coffin, dear... think what it must be like to a flea, possibly a grand palace!" He said with such animation that I had to laugh softly at the dark joke.

"Ah, see? I make you laugh, don't I?" He asked, laughing slightly himself. "Your father used to make you laugh, I'm sure, didn't he?"

I nodded, looking to my hands.

He lay there, resting his head against against his hand, stating thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"You could have just ignored me, you know." He said quietly, so quiet that I hardly could hear him. His voice once more losing the evident strength it once had not but seconds ago.

"I was worried," I rebelled, furrowing my brow, not believing he actually said that.

"You mustn't worry for me, then."

"I couldn't leave you alone... What happened?"

"I'm not quite sure, dear..." He then looked to me sincerely, his eyes squinted. "And..." He began, "Thank you."

I nodded and rose from my seat.

"Do you want me to get you something else?"

"Go ahead on up to bed, Christine, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes, I'm sure. Goodnight, Christine." He replied quietly, and looked back to the ceiling.

"Goodnight." I replied and left the room to go to mine, and huffed, holding my chest to keep myself from crying once more. It was like nobody ever said those words to him, like nobody ever cared...

I walked up the stairs, hanging my head low, and huffed once more, looking back to the door as I heard another hacking cough come from the other room.