Erik ran until his legs could no longer carry him. The breeze on his bare face was strange and frightening, but somehow exhilarating. The forest was miles deeper than it appeared to be from the little winery on their property, and Erik ran until he was surely off the land he owned and into wild territory. Finally he collapsed in the soft dirt at the foot of a large tree, leaning against its trunk for support as he gasped for air between sobs.
What had he done? He couldn't even fathom the enormity of it. He ran and ran, hoping, praying that running would make his guilt and heartbreak stop. It didn't; exhaustion only magnified the weight of what he had done. As soon as Erik had laid his hand on her, he knew he had done something horrible. The sound of his hand striking her cheek and the sight of her reeling afterwards would forever haunt him. He hadn't even stayed long enough to make sure she was all right; for all he knew, the blow had killed her. What had possessed him to do such a monstrous thing?
His face. His face was the reason for all of this. Like every time he had ever been without his mask, something horrible had happened… only this time it was his own fault. Gaia had not meant to cause him harm; she had never once been vicious towards him. Cautious, even guarded when they first met, but never cruel. Yet Erik had lashed out against her as if she were every screaming child, every fainting woman, every shouting boy, every beating he had ever received from his mother all rolled into one. It was a monster that had been lurking inside of him for years, dormant under the mask, and it had unleashed its fury on Gaia, the only living thing he loved.
She would never understand. How could she? Why should she, even? There was simply no excuse for what he had done. He had struck her with all of his considerable might square in the face, and was certain he had seen blood coming from her mouth and ear when he pulled back his hand. Every instinct in his body told him to run. Forget Gaia, forget Giovanni, forget Rome and be free. Leave your problems in Italy where they belong, they screamed to him. But Erik couldn't forget. He had never forgotten a single day in his entire life, and this day would be no different no matter how fast or how far he ran. He could run, to be sure, but he knew the humanity Giovanni had taught him would tear him to pieces.
Guilt like this was a new emotion for Erik, one he decidedly did not like. He had blamed himself for things in the past, to be sure, but never like this. This feeling was so powerful, so raw that it ate away at him from the inside out like a parasite. He had killed two men, but never had he felt like this. Was there any way to alleviate this pain?
Forgiveness. Forgiveness was the only thing that would ever allow him to sleep at night. No matter how far away from Italy Erik ran, he knew he would never sleep another night if he did not have Gaia's forgiveness. He didn't deserve it, but his mind craved it like his body craved oxygen. When finally he caught his breath, Erik stood again and walked back the way he came with quiet resolution; he would go to Gaia to forgiveness, if he hadn't killed her. If she wouldn't give it to him, he would leave Italy behind and do his best to start life fresh someplace else. If she was dead… if she was dead, he would hang himself in the forest and give his body to the wolves. The guilt of harming her he could live with, although he knew it would drive him mad. The guilt of killing her would surely kill him if he didn't commit the act himself.
The sun was on its way down over the horizon when Erik returned to the house on the vineyard. He had run as fast as he could for two hours, about six miles into the forest. That distance took him more than twice as long to walk with the weight of his crime on his shoulders.
Erik slipped in the door, and his heart sank at the eerie quiet. The sun was going down but none of the lamps were lit. Water should have been boiling on the stove in preparation for dinner, with his smiling wife in the kitchen eager to leave her work to welcome him home. Timidly, Erik searched the house for his wife, intent on saving the bedroom for last out of fear of what he might find there. When even that room was empty, Erik's heart sank. The bed was unmade nearly seven hours later. It was as if Gaia had simply vanished into thin air.
The sound of moving water from the bathroom nearly made Erik jump out of his skin. The bathroom! He hadn't thought to check there. Gently he knocked on the door before turning the handle slightly, frowning to find it locked; they never locked the door to the bathroom, even when bathing. It was pointless since they quite often bathed together. "Gaia?"
The slightest sound of movement was the only sign of life from beyond the door. Erik rested his bare forehead against the door, clutching his heart. "Gaia please come out. I have to see you."
"Go away, Erik. I don't ever want to see you again."
Erik's heart shattered into a thousand pieces at harshness of the phrase. Those words would ring forever in his ears. 'I don't ever want to see you again'. Was there ever a more hurtful phrase? Certainly not when spoken by Beauty to the beast who adored her so. When finally he found words, his voice reflected his utter heartbreak. "Surely you don't mean that?"
Again the sound of moving water, and the rush of water down the drain. Erik moved away from the door as Gaia opened it. In her hand was a small paring knife, the only thing giving her confidence to confront him after his terrible rage. Erik frowned deeply at the sight of her, clutching the knife with white knuckles while her eye had already begun to blacken. Gaia didn't dare leave the safety of the bathroom and its open window behind her, but stayed in the doorway with her robe tight around her. "Talk," she demanded, wiping at her good eye at the sight of him. He was filthy, shirtless still from bed, but ever inch of him was a different man than the one who had attacked her; that man had been large and intimidating, this man was little more than a kicked dog.
"I… I don't even know what to say, Gaia. I tried to think of something, anything I could say to make this better, but I can't. There just isn't anything that will make this right," Erik told her as he stared at the ground, unable to look at the damage he had done to her. "I'm sorry. Only God knows how much I am sorry. All of the begging and pleading in the world should never earn your forgiveness. And I know that it probably won't. I can't explain what happened except that you married a man as ill as you are, in a different way."
"Even more ill, I would say," Gaia remarked quietly as Erik sat on the edge of the bed.
"If you still want me to leave, I'll go," whispered Erik despairingly. It would destroy him to leave, but she was more important than his selfish desire to be forgiven.
"I don't know what I want, Erik," Gaia confided, not budging from the doorframe. "You terrified me. And not because of your face," she added quickly, afraid of another outburst.
"I know."
"If it happens again-"
"I would rather die than see it happen again," Erik promised her so passionately he nearly burst into tears. It was the truth; he would sooner end his own life than hers, so in love was he. Gaia frowned and approached her husband, knife still in her hand and arms folded tightly across her chest. She sat next to him on the bed.
"I'm not going to be one of those wives who's content being beaten and apologized to over and over again, Erik. I love you, but not that much," she told her husband firmly, and Erik wiped at his eyes with a shaking breath and a nod. "If it happens again, God willing I survive your rage a second time I won't hesitate in leaving."
"I wouldn't blame you if you left now," Erik told her softly, eyes still fixated on the floor.
Gaia nodded. "I don't think anyone would. But I've known you for three years, and we've been married half that time now. I want to believe that what happened isn't who you really are," she explained, looking to him. "It's not a side I've seen of you before, and I never want to see it again. Go make dinner."
Erik stood obediently and went to the kitchen to cook for his wife. He knew this was her way of giving him the means to earn her forgiveness. Erik would spend the rest of his life cooking, cleaning, and waiting on her every need if it meant she would love him at the end of the day, even if she never fully forgave him. He had nothing besides her to call his own, and was desperate to keep her close and to be loved.
They ate quietly, a small meal of pasta and meat. Both of them were too stressed by the events of the day to eat much, and neither spoke a word over dinner. They settled into their evening routine, trying to pretend nothing had happened. Erik must have read the same pages a hundred times before closing his book in frustration. Gaia looked up from her tinkering, pulling down her spectacles to watch him in his quiet frustration.
"What were you reading?" She ventured, quietly.
"Canzoniere, by Petrarch. I've read the same passage six times and still couldn't tell you what it says."
"If it's Canzoniere it must be about love," Gaia teased gently; Petrarch had written all of the poems in Canzoniere about love, both before and after his love's death. Erik grunted some in acknowledgement, but said nothing. "Maybe if you read it out loud it will help you retain it?" She offered.
"I don't want to disturb you."
"I won't be disturbed," she promised. "I was studying Petrarch when I left school after Mother died. I would like to hear it."
Reluctantly, Erik picked up the book of poetry again and began to read.
"My luck is always late and slow to reach me,hope is uncertain, desire grows and increases,
so that I grieve with loss or anticipation,
and it is quicker than a tigress to depart.
Alas, snow will be black and hot,
the sea without waves, fish on the hills,
and the sun set where Tigris and Euphrates
issue together from their source,
before I can find peace in my mind,
or Love or my lady alter their ways,
who have joined in wrong against me.
And any sweetness follows such bitterness
that through disdain the taste is lost:
I will never know what's better from them."
Quietly Gaia stood and moved to her husband, sitting in his lap while he read poem after poem. She had always loved his voice, and thought often that she could listen to him talk for hours. Soon the stress of the day took her as she was lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of her husband's chest as he breathed and the quiet sound of his voice. Erik rested a hand timidly around her middle, loathe to touch her without her express permission after what happened but unable to escape the draw of holding her when she had put herself so close. He read she stirred some in his lap in an unconscious attempt to make herself more comfortable. Carefully he put the book aside and picked up his wife. She hadn't yet recovered all of the weight she lost during her last illness, but she was certainly recovering. Erik prayed silently that the events of the day wouldn't trigger another attack; there wasn't much of his wife left to be consumed.
Gently Erik laid Gaia in their bed where she curled into herself, lonely. Erik washed and joined her in bed before long, deciding to remain maskless for the night. He was both surprised and touched by how rapidly her body gravitated towards his. Erik had faced away from her, too ashamed to hold her while she slept, but she simply wouldn't have it. In moments Gaia was curled up beside her husband, nearly begging to be held. Erik gave in and wrapped her in his arms, something he never expected to do again after that morning.