AN: Here's another update… Sorry for the long wait! I'm working at day camps all summer for young children, and it's leaving me pretty tired by the time I get home. I hope you enjoy, and I apologise for any mistakes… Please review!
I sat on the floor of the living room, crying uncontrollably for what seemed like hours. By the time I finally managed to control my sobbing, and muster the strength to look up at the clock, it was midnight. The ache in my heart was replaced by a weird numb sensation, as if my brain had shut off my capacity to feel.
Wordlessly, I stood and walked to the front door, throwing it open and reveling in the feeling of cold air washing over me. I wasn't planning on running away again; it simply felt glorious to feel the chill of the wind on my skin.
"Christine!" I heard Erik yell frantically, his footsteps nearly soundless as he ran downstairs. "What are you doing?!"
"I'm not running away… I'm not stupid." I spoke softly, my voice hollow. "I was just feeling too warm."
"Why don't you come back inside?" He coaxed gently, standing close behind me but not touching me.
I nodded, stepping back so he could close the door.
"Are you hungry, or thirsty?" He asked tentatively. I simply shook my head, not really feeling like talking.
"I'm just tired." I whispered, turning and heading up the stairs without another look at him.
I entered my room, closing the door softly behind me. I was mentally exhausted, and yet, I had no desire to sleep. Every time I stopped thinking about something, I saw Meg and Raoul's faces on the TV screen.
Attempting to keep my mind occupied, I began searching rifling through all the desks and drawers in the room. As I had already noticed, the closet had enough clothing in it to clothe all the homeless people in New York, with shoes and accessories for every occasion you could imagine. What really made me feel weird was the fact that everything was exactly the right size and style for me.
A small desk sat in the corner of the room, full of notebooks, stationary and other pens and pencils. A bookshelf on the same wall was completely full of books, most of them classics. I nearly smiled when I saw Pride and Prejudice amongst the volumes, along with an old copy of Beauty and the Beast.
I walked through a door along the same wall as the closet, and stepped into an ornately decorated bathroom. A large, claw foot tub stood in one corner, with a shower opposite of it. Beautiful tiles covered the floor, and lined the top half of the wall. I turned on the bath, allowing the water to be as hot as I could stand, and then climbed in when the tub was nearly spilling over.
The hot water felt good after the burst of cold. I lay in the tub for nearly an hour and half, simply thinking about everything aside from Meg and Raoul, trying desperately to keep my mind occupied. By the time I finally got out, the water was freezing cold, and my skin was shriveled up like a prune. After drying off, I pulled on the silk robe hanging in the bathroom and walked into the bedroom.
Not wanting to risk the nightmares that would inevitably come with sleep, I pulled a book off the shelf and curled up on the armchair to read. I grabbed one of the old volumes of Sherlock Holmes Erik had placed on my bookshelf, surprised that there was one up there that I hadn't read. I was even more surprised when I delicately flipped the yellowing pages to the copyright page, to see the publication read 1892… It was an original copy!
I devoured the book quickly, grabbing another volume off the shelf as soon as I was finished. The world of Sherlock Holmes was appealing; one where Holmes always solved the mystery, and the villains never got away completely unscathed.
I didn't even remember dozing off, but I must have at some point in the night, because my mind was assaulted with a vicious nightmare.
I'm sitting alone on my couch in the house my papa and I lived in, reading one of my favourite novels. I hear footsteps enter the room, and I turn, eager to share the book with my father.
However, it's not my father standing in the doorway to the sitting room, its Erik, clothed all in black, a black hat nearly shadowing out his entire face.
"Hello Christine," He smiles coldly, and takes a slow step toward me.
"Erik?" I exclaim in surprise, standing up and dropping my book to the floor. "What are you doing here?"
"I just had something to drop off for you." He smiles again, but there is no warmth in the gesture.
I look past him to see my father standing in the kitchen, a bright light behind him.
"Papa!" I exclaim, running to him and throwing my arms around him.
"You have grown to be so beautiful Christine." He smiles, looking at me with tenderness in his eyes. "I only wish I could be around to see you."
A tear slides down my cheek. "I love you papa."
"I love you too Christine." My father says as he seems to evaporate into the light. I turn around to see if Erik is still present, but Buquet is standing in front of me, breathing his foul breath into my face.
"Hello Christine." He sneers, wrapping his hands around my throat.
"Erik!" I scream with all the breath I can gather as he's choking me.
However, when I turn to see Erik he has Meg and Raoul in his arms, both of them unconscious. "I'm sorry Christine, but I'm afraid I'm otherwise occupied." He laughs coldly, turning and dragging Raoul and Meg's unresponsive bodies through the doors.
"Looks like it's just you and me dearie." Buquet sneers as he leans closer unto my face…
"ERIK!" I scream with my final breath of air, clawing weakly at Buquet's hand.
But suddenly the entire scene changes, and it's not Buquet squeezing the life from me, it's Erik's dark face I see staring at me.
He leans down and whispers something softly into my ear, his voice full of malice. "I'm here my dear… The angel of death."
"Christine," Erik's voice called softly, "It is time for you to wake up my dear."
Startled out of my nightmare, I woke up to see Erik only a few feet from me. Still living in the world of my nightmare, I screamed and panicked, knocking the armchair over backwards in my haste to get away from him.
"Christine!" He exclaimed, completely caught by surprise.
I broke out of my nightmare, completely dissolving into tears as I remembered what had happened in the dream.
"I-I… You… Buquet…" I was crying so hard I couldn't even form coherent sentences. "And then M-Meg and Raoul… And you just… A-and then he… A-and then y-you… A-and…"
"Shhhhhhh," Erik soothed, sitting next to me and rubbing circles on my back as I cried. "It was just a nightmare Christine."
"I-it was so real." I sobbed. "H-he choked me, and…"
"Christine," Erik's said firmly, but still gently. "Buquet can't hurt you. You are safe here."
"B-but then y-you choked m-me too… Y-you s-said you were the a-angel of death, and then y-you choked m-me…"I buried my face in my knees again, unable to stop crying.
He gently place his finger under my chin and lifted my face up to meet his eyes. He spoke solemnly, and his eyes had an extremely gentle quality to them. "Christine, I would never hurt you."
"Do you know something Erik?" I whispered, managing to stop my sobs. "I think I believe you."
He nodded slowly, looking like he was pondering something. "Buquet can't touch you here either."
"I know that," I nodded. "It was just so terrifying."
"I understand," He said softly, with something that sounded a lot like… empathy?
"Why did you even wake me up?" I mumbled, just wanting to change the subject. I couldn't let myself get close to Erik… He kidnapped me, and took me to this place. He was the enemy.
"You were to meet me for singing lessons at 9:00 am… It is 9:00 now." He said a little bit louder, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.
"I couldn't fall asleep last night, so I'm too tired to sing." I grumbled, silently begging him to go away.
"That is not my problem." Erik spoke, his voice hard. He stood up and pulled the curtains open so sunlight blinded me. "Be downstairs in the music room in half an hour, or I shall come up here and carry you downstairs myself."
I sat up, glaring at him through puffy eyes. "You wouldn't dare."
He smirked at me, but there was lighthearted humour behind the gesture. "If you believe that, you underestimate me my dear."
He turned and walked out of the room, and I threw a throw pillow at the door behind him as he left. How dare that bastard order me around like he actually had some authority over me!
I stood up and stormed over to the closet, throwing the doors open hard and pulling on the first pairs of jeans and shirt I found. One glance in the mirror said that I wasn't going to be able to do anything with my unruly hair after sleeping in a chair all night, so I hastily pulled it up into a haphazard bun.
I hurried out of my bedroom and downstairs to the music room… If he thought he could order me around, I was going to make him regret it.
I burst into the room to see Erik already sitting at the piano, looking at me with an attentive, yet detached look on his face. I stood next to the piano, and he turned away from me, poising his fingers over the keys.
"F major scale." He stated, pressing the opening note on the piano. We had worked on the difficult scale nearly every lesson since I had met Erik, and I could sing it particularly well. This time however, every note I sang was flat.
"Again." He said angrily, hammering the first note of the scale again. This time, I sang every note sharp.
"Again!" He growled, not even bothering to hit the note on the piano. As I sang the entire scale again with a mix of flats and sharps, his hands clenched and unclenched in anger.
"Is there any particular reason you are deciding to sing like a dying cow?" He snarled, glaring at me as I stood there smugly.
"I'm sorry," I said sweetly, "Did I sing it wrong?"
"Don't play childish games Christine." He spat.
"It's your fault for being completely unsympathetic to my entire situation!" I shot back, refusing to back down.
"I don't give a damn about whatever emotions are making you choose to act so stupidly!" He yelled, slamming his hands on the piano angrily.
Fear began to start swirling in my stomach, I knew as well as anybody how stupid it was to get Erik worked up, but at this point the rage clouding my vision overpowered the fear.
"I know you don't give a shit about me!" I yelled, stepping toward him so I could look down on him. "You want me to sing?! Fine! Find me a song about a girl who is ripped from her life and everything she loves, and forced to stay with a man who is so emotionally detached from the world that she doubts he's even human! If you find me a song like that, I'll gladly sing it for you Erik."
I glared down at him, wanting him to yell something back at him so I could continue to argue with him and be angry at him.
"And furthermore…" I screamed, but Erik cut me off.
"I never said I didn't care." He spoke softly, looking me in the eyes. His facial expression had softened, and for a moment he almost looked sad.
"I don't give a damn about whatever emotions are making you choose to act so stupidly?" I quoted back at him, crossing my arms as I awaited his explanation.
"If you analyzed those words more carefully, I believe you would find they were said more out of reaction to the actions you made, than a reflection of my true feelings." He spoke carefully, obviously not wanting to upset me. "Please do not mistake my frustration with your actions for not actually caring about your well-being. I apologise that I said that… I did not mean it."
I stood there for a moment, shocked that he had actually given me an apology. I had planned to be unbearably frustrating, yell at him, have him yell back at me, and then storm away to my room… An apology had never been part of the equation.
"Fine," I muttered, grabbing the sheet music off the music stand in front of me. I looked at the title of the song, surprised that I didn't recognize the piece at all. "What is this from?"
"It's one of my original pieces." He smiled. "I thought we would start with something difficult so you didn't think I was taking it easy on you."
Despite my best efforts, the corner of my mouth pulled into a slight smile. I should have recognized Erik's handwriting in the title; Masquerade was written in his elegant script.
Without any more warning, he began playing the very short piano introduction. The melody was relatively simplistic in terms of rhythms, but the notes and emotions within the song were much trickier.
"Masquerade, paper faces on parade… Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you…" I sang with him on the piano, but he stopped me.
"The last note was flat… Try again, and clearer enunciation this time." He instructed, starting to play the piano again.
I hadn't sang in a while, and we stopped so often that I had barely finished half the song when my stomach began growling for lunch. I had forgotten how demanding music lessons with Erik were.
"Would you like to be finished for today?" He asked softly, turning away from the piano to face me.
"Yes." I said firmly, turning and walking out of the room and into the kitchen to make some food. Erik came in a few minutes later, wordlessly making himself something to eat as well. I grabbed my food and took it to the sitting room, not wanting to awkwardly sit at the table by myself, or awkwardly sit at the small table with Erik.
"I have something to offer you Christine." He said, seating on the opposite side of the couch from me.
"And what is that?" I questioned, curious about what Erik could possibly be giving me.
"I was wondering if in addition to your singing lessons, you would perhaps like to learn another instrument?" He asked casually, but for some reason he seemed slightly nervous.
"I would love that." I smiled at him, happily surprised at the offer. "Do I get to pick which one?"
He nodded. "You may have today to think about it, and then you can let me know which one you want to learn at your singing lesson tomorrow."
"Thank you." I said, taking a bite out of my lunch.
Erik and I sat there eating in awkward silence for nearly five minutes, neither of us knowing what to say to the other anymore.
"Well," Erik spoke awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Would you perhaps like to watch a movie?"
"Sure." I shrugged, kneeling in front of Erik's DVD collection to pick something out. I began flicking through DVD's, finding some familiar titles. Dead Poet's Society, Saving Private Ryan, Les Miserables, The Green Mile, Schindler's List, Braveheart… After going through half the shelf, I turned to Erik.
"Good Lord Erik, don't you have anything, you know… Happy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "There may be a few happy ones tucked into the back corner of the bottom shelf."
After searching for nearly ten minutes, I found Forrest Gump tucked into the back corner of his shelf, behind another row of movies.
"Let's watch this one!" I exclaimed, putting the DVD in the player. I sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Erik, a smile on my face. Forrest Gump was one of my favourite movies, but a quick glance at Erik told me that he didn't enjoy the film as much as I did.
"Do you not like this one?" I asked tentatively as the movie began to play. "We can watch something else if you want…"
"It's fine." He smiled, "We can watch whatever you wish."
I nodded, turning back to the screen so I didn't miss the beginning. About fifteen minutes later I turned back to Erik, unable to stand the face of disdain he was making at the screen.
"Okay." I said loudly, pausing the movie and moving closer to him on the couch so I could speak to him more easily. "What is your problem with this movie?"
"It's just not one of my favourites." He spoke quickly, slightly taken aback.
"But why?" I pressed, not letting him escape the question that easily.
"It's just so unrealistic." He explained. "There is no possible way somebody who had been through as much as Forrest would ever remain that optimistic about the world… His best friend and love of his life died, and he is still so damn happy all the time!"
I looked at him skeptically. "So you don't like the movie because Forrest is optimistic about things?"
"Well, among other things." He retorted.
"Believe it or not, it is possible for people to be happy even after something traumatic has happened in their life." I spoke softly, thinking of my own status as an orphan.
For once Erik was silent, but it only took him a moment before he responded in a voice so soft I could barely hear it.
"Unfortunately, not everybody has that ability Christine."