Erik's POV

I had lost my voice. It took days in the hospital recuperating in order for me to regain my strength, but when I was able to speak again, my voice was not the same. My voice used to be velvety and deep, but now, my voice sounded like a low whisper and I couldn't get it any higher.

"Erik," I heard Christine's voice and I opened my eyes to find her rising from my bedside. The woman had stayed at my side ever since I had been brought in. I begged her time and time again to go home, but she refused. The only time she left was when she needed to go home and feed Gustave. No, she found being at my side the most important thing.

"Erik, I'm going to go to the cafeteria for some tea. Would you like me to bring you back some ice cream to help with your throat?"

"No," I murmured. "No ice cream."

If there was one thing that I hated, it was not being able to eat hot or solid foods. The doctor told me that it was going to be this way for weeks to come. I was still having trouble swallowing, which was the reason why the doctor demanded that I stay away from solid foods. So, for the past few days, Christine spoon fed me lukewarm oatmeal for breakfast, ice cream for lunch and cold broth and apple sauce for dinner. Oh, it was horrible. I wanted my tea more than anything in the world, but the doctor had warned that eating hot foods would eat away at the stitches that were holding my neck closed. Before leaving my side, Christine pressed a kiss to my forehead and walked out of the room. A few moments later, Christine returned with Gustave in her arms. She placed the boy down on my bed and patted him on the head.

"Gustave, don't ask Mr. Erik too many questions. He has to stay quiet so his throat can heal."

Gustave nodded and crawled up to my shoulder, placing his head on the pillow that was beside my own.

"Hi, Mr. Erik," he mewed, running his finger gently along the bandage that was wrapped around my neck. "I miss you being at home."

"I'll…I'll be home tomorrow," I murmured. "I…I promise."

"Erik," Christine leaned over me and placed a spoonful of ice cream at my lips. "The doctor wants you to eat a little ice cream so he can come in and give you your medicine and change your bandages."

"No," I warned. "If I eat that, I'm going to be sick."

"Erik, please… Just one spoonful? For me?"

I fought off arguing and opened my mouth, taking the ice cream and forcing it down my throat. Oh, it made me sick, but I held off from telling Christine that chocolate ice cream didn't agree with my stomach.

"I'll be right back," Christine said, walking towards the door. "I'm going to fetch the doctor."

When Christine was gone, Gustave looked into the container of ice cream and looked back at me.

"Chocolate ice cream sure tastes good, Mr. Erik…"

Knowing that if the ice cream didn't disappear before Christine came back, I would be forced to eat it…So, I handed the container to Gustave.

"Let's have a contest," I said. "You have to eat the ice cream before you mother comes back."

"Really?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, ready, set…go…"

Faster than lightning, the boy devoured the chocolate ice cream, shoveling spoon after spoon into his mouth, his lips turning brown from the ice cream.

"Done," he said, placing the container down on my night table.

"Good, but we have to hide the evidence."

I licked a napkin and began rubbing it over his mouth. When Gustave was clean again, I pressed my eyes closed and rested my head on my pillow. When I heard the door opening again, I opened my eyes and noticed Christine approaching me with a doctor at her side.

"Ate all the ice cream, I see?" the doctor mentioned, looking into the empty container.

"Yes," Gustave said. "I fed it to him…"

Christine turned to Gustave and took the collar of his shirt in her fingers.

"Really, Gustave?"

"Yes…"

"Well, it's all over your shirt."

Silence surrounded the room, and Christine turned back towards me with a look of disgust displayed across her face.

"Well, Erik, seems as though you were robbed of your ice cream."

"Did he at least eat a little of it?" the doctor asked.

Christine nodded. "Yes, he had a few spoonfuls."

"I'm going to change his bandages now and give him his medicine. He's going to be sleepy after he takes it, so it's best to let him rest."

Christine approached me and pressed her lips against my cheek. "Erik, I'm going to take Gustave to the park for a while to get some air. I'll come back later on tonight to help you to the bathroom."

For the past few days, I had been peeing into a bedpan, but now since I was going to be leaving the hospital, the doctor wanted me to start getting out of bed. When Christine left, the doctor began to pull away my bandages.

"I'm going to put a new bandage on you," he said. "And then, tomorrow when you get home your lady friend is going to have to do it for you. Your neck needs to be cleaned every few hours to keep away infection."

"Will the scar go away?" I asked.

"I'm going to cut out the stitches tomorrow morning, and over the next few weeks your neck is going to heal, but the scar will always be there. Most likely it will be a darker shade than your flesh and its texture will stay lumpy."

"And my voice?"

"The way you sound now will be the way you sound for the rest of your life. You need to keep your voice low too…No shouting."

The following morning, Christine was there to help me out of bed. Walking to the bathroom was anything but pleasant, especially when Christine left me to get my clothes out of the closet. While I stood there in front of the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror, and oh, I was hideous. I had not actually seen the bandage for myself, but now that I was, I knew that anything that hid behind a bandage this big surely wasn't pretty to look at.

"Here we are, Erik," Christine came walking in with a clean shirt, taking notice to the worried expression that was displayed upon my face. "Oh, come away from the mirror, Erik."

Christine gently pulled me away from the mirror and helped me dress. Yes, my throat might have been the only thing that was wrong with me, but I was still extremely exhausted.

"I ordered your carriage about an hour ago. It should be here soon enough…"

When I was dressed, Christine escorted me to the carriage that was waiting outside. My angel wanted to talk to me, but as soon as I got into the carriage, I pressed my head up against the side of my seat and closed my eyes. The snow had turned to rain, washing away any slush that had been remaining, making it clear that spring was most likely right around the corner. The entire way home, Christine caressed my thigh with her knee, as if trying to tell me that everything would be all right, when in reality, it was the complete opposite. There was nothing in this world that would make me feel better, for I was destined to walk around with a hideous scar on my neck. Life was hard enough with having to walk around with a mask on my face. No matter where I went, I was stared upon because of the garment, and now, whenever I spoke to someone, they would be staring at my neck. Sometime during the ride home, I lifted my hand to the bandage, covering my palm over it and pulling the collar of my jacket closer to it. Oh, I would never want to dress again. No, I knew when I was better I would be speaking to my tailor about designing me shirts with high collars, one that could cover any trace of my neck. It might come out making me look ridiculous, but that was better than having to walk around scarred.

"Erik," Christine gently placed her hand over the one that I was covering my bandage with and placed it on my lap. "You shouldn't be touching that. Just rest…"

I pressed my eyes closed, only to have the woman talk once again.

"Erik, don't feel as though you're hideous. Things happen…I don't think you to be any different because of your neck. You'll learn to accept that as well."

"No," I murmured. "It's…It's just so easy for you to say that. You know nothing about how I feel."

Over the next few days, I stayed in the confinements of my bedroom, laying in bed and resting against the agony that constantly shot through my neck. I hardly spoke to anyone in that time, anyone except for Gustave. Though, there were times when I spoke that he asked me to speak louder. It hurt, for I couldn't… The volume of my voice was nothing more than a low whisper. I knew this wouldn't be the last time I would hear those very words. One evening, right when I arrived home from the hospital, I scolded Christine for attempting to clean my wound, assuring her that I could do it myself. There I stood, in front of my bathroom mirror alone, and alone I wept when I was able to have a good look at myself. Oh, the scar was hideous and lumpy, starting at my left earlobe and ending at my right. I pressed my teary eyes closed and worked on bandaging it once again, never feeling safe or comfortable until I had it bandaged again. For a week, I was ordered to wear that bandage, and after that, I refused to dress myself. No, instead, I continued to spend endless hours in the comfort of my bed, dressed in nothing more than my robe, for it was the only garment that had a collar large enough to cover my neck.

Two weeks after arriving home, I waited until everyone was in bed before rising and making my way down to the family room. I hated lying in bed, and therefore, I only rose when everyone else was asleep. Once I was in the family room, I took a seat in my favorite armchair and rested my head against its side, staring into the flames that were burning brightly in my hearth, though, I was not alone… A few seconds later, I felt Christine's hands brush along my thin wisps of hair, her lips pressing down on my chilled forehead. But that wasn't all she had bestowed upon me…No, in her hands, she placed down a cup of lukewarm tea… That's all I had been able to drink during the past few weeks, and it churned my stomach. Cold tea was nowhere near as tasty as it was hot. But I ignored her, and pressed my eyes closed.

"Erik," Christine whispered. "I know you've been miserable these past few weeks, but you've done nothing but mope around in your robe. You are allowed to get dressed and go out again. The only thing you can't do is drink and eat solid foods for another two weeks."

Christine slid the cup of tea towards me, but I pushed it away, not being interested in drinking it.

"Erik, you've barely spoken a word to me these past few weeks. Why do you feel the need to shun yourself away from me?"

"I don't want to eat ice cream and crushed bananas anymore," I murmured. "And I don't want cold tea."

Christine sat on the footstool that was across from me and folded her hands across her lap.

"Erik, you've never moped around in your robe before. Back in Paris, you were always best dressed and sincere about your appearance. If you're going to stay home and rest, at least try to dress yourself."

"I'm not ever going to get dressed again."

"And why is that, Erik?"

"Every shirt I own is too low to cover my neck."

"Erik, why should that matter? You're perfectly handsome the way you are. Why do you feel the need to cover up your neck to the world?"

"Gustave asked me to speak louder last week, but I couldn't… I don't understand how even you can hear me at times."

"Easy," Christine said with a small smile. "I listen."

With that, Christine rose to her feet and entered the kitchen, coming back a few moments later with a slice of what seemed to be pie.

"I baked this today. Coconut cream pie… Your favorite. I wanted to do something nice for you to make you feel better."

I didn't touch the slice of pie. No, instead, I sat there looking at it.

"I baked it earlier today, so, it's cooled off, and there is barely any chewing involved. I know you've been having trouble swallowing, which is why this slice should make it easy on you."

Finally, I took my time, indulging into the pie spoonful by spoonful.

"Thank you, Christine," I said, looking up at her. "It's very good."

"I'm glad you like it, Erik. I'll make you something really tasty…Anything you'd like."

"I'm having trouble swallowing," I mentioned. "It hurts terribly."

Christine rose to her feet and took away my empty plate.

"The doctor said it will eventually pass. Come along, Erik, I'll help you back into bed."

Christine took me by the arm and helped me back upstairs. Once there, I laid back down and Christine covered me up.

"Let's start fresh tomorrow…What do you say about that?"

"No promises…"

Christine took a seat at my bedside and brushed her hand against my own.

"Erik," she lightly pulled away the collar of my robe and brushed her fingers up against my scar. "There is nothing wrong with the way you look. Please believe me. I remember when I was a little girl and Carlotta mentioned how thin and frail I was. She said that I would never amount to anything, but you steered me wrong. You told me that I was perfect and not to let others say otherwise. Well now, I'm saying this to you. There is nothing wrong with you, Erik…So don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

With that being said, Christine pressed a kiss to my cheek and left me alone, but even in solitude, I still felt hideous… But as Christine had said, tomorrow was another day.

"Oh, Christine…"

I lifted my hand to my neck and felt the lumpy scar, knowing that I would never feel confident about my appearance again…Oh, the Giry's would pay for this!

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