Chapter Twelve
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell, I know right now you can't tell, but stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me…" -Matchbox 20
Waking Dream
Erik dashed blindly through the rain pouring down on the deserted street. He threw open the stable door, startling the horses and sending them rearing up in their stalls, whinnying in fear. But apart from the chaos and noise, one black horse on the end stood still and whickered a soft, friendly greeting. Erik ran to her stall, opened the door, and threw his arms around Raven's neck. The mare nuzzled him gently, ever loyal, calm and trusting despite her master's often erratic behavior. Erik rubbed the horse's neck, trying to calm himself and make sense of what had just happened.
His heart was pounding. What had just happened? What would have happened had Alana not said something back there in the hotel room? Why had he chosen to sing that song with her, of all the songs in the world? He had sworn he would never sing it again with anyone else. He didn't understand what had possessed him to choose that song, and he didn't understand what had come over him after they had begun to sing it. One moment, he had been helping Alana with the most difficult piece she had tried thus far.
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The next moment, he found himself in a dark corridor, singing as he watched his angel through a small hole in the wall. Christine was singing with him. His heart began to beat faster, the familiar warm feeling he felt every time he saw her washing over him. It consumed him. The song they were singing was their favorite; his version of "La Ci Darem La Mano" suited both of their voices perfectly. For so long, he had sung his song, desperately wanting to join Christine in that little chapel where she sat alone in the night, and now, he could no longer contain himself. He opened a secret door in the stone wall and stepped through.
Christine just stared at him, unafraid despite his sudden appearance and the mask he wore. He finished singing his part and gazed back at her. Then, he found himself taking her in his arms, holding her close to him, running his hands through her dark brown hair. He had never felt so wonderful in all his life. He was almost…happy.
"I love you," he whispered, three words he had been longing to say for so long. He let go of her. She was staring up in awe at him, looking more beautiful than ever. Erik took her face in his hands, pulling her back towards him. He was moving his own face slowly closer to hers, their lips just centimeters apart. Then Christine spoke.
"What are you doing?" She looked confused, and not quite like herself.
Erik moved back slightly, looking at her in equal bewilderment. Her eyes were changing. The deep brown eyes he knew, he loved, were becoming a combination of green, blue, brown, and gray, all at the same time. He was stroking her face, but it was changing shape. Mounting panic rose up inside of him. What was happening? Her entire figure was fading fast, transforming into…into what? His hands shook. No, no, don't go. Don't leave me again. Please.
Don't leave me again? What was going on?
"Erik? What are you doing?" That wasn't Christine's voice at all.
And then he was standing in his hotel room, Alana looking back at him, her hazel eyes wide with fear.
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It had all been a dream. He had dreamt of being with Christine countless times. But he had never seen this vision in his waking hours before. Erik couldn't believe it. It was one of the strangest experiences he'd ever had, and someone else had been there to witness it. He didn't understand anything except that he had somehow had a terribly vivid hallucination, and Alana knew it. He had actually believed she was someone else.
He patted Raven's neck, trying to slow down his rapid heartbeat, closing his eyes, attempting to relax and remove the vision from his mind. It had been so real…what if something like it happened again? What if something like it had happened before and he hadn't remembered?
I'm losing my mind.
The stable was dark, lit only by a pair of lanterns beside either door. Shadows loomed in every corner, strange noises resonating throughout the building. For once, Erik-the man who lived in the night-was afraid of the dark, afraid of what he would see in the shadow. He felt like he had as a small, scared child, huddled in a cage alone, terrified of something or someone coming out of the night to hurt him.
"Erik?"
He had been covering his eyes, hoping that somehow it would seem less dark, but that had only made things worse, as faces from the past raced through his memory. He lowered his hands, and dared to turn around.
There was Alana, standing in the front of the stall, hair drenched, her soaked purple dress sticking to her slender frame. "I thought I might find you here."
Erik just looked at the floor, with no words to say, no way of explaining to her what had happened back at the hotel room. He could feel her looking at him. From where she was standing, all she could see was the masked side of his face. She said nothing for a while, but then, she opened her mouth and asked the worst question imaginable.
"Erik?" He heard her take a deep breath. "I know this probably isn't the best time to ask you this, but…I just have to know. Why…why do you wear a mask?"
He closed his eyes, fighting back tears and painful memories.
"We're friends, Erik. You don't have to hide from me."
Erik just looked helplessly at her. It meant so much to him that they were friends. But he couldn't say it. Not after what happened. Every. Single. Time. If anyone saw him unmasked, or heard of his deformity, they never looked at him the same way again. They treated him like an outcast, an untouchable. They tried to hunt him down, lock him up, or they just ran away. Or they treated him like a child, thinking they somehow needed to take care of him so he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else. Alana was the only person he had met who hadn't seen his abhorrent face; therefore, she was the only one who could treat him as if he were a normal human being, they only one who could call him friend.
"Did you fight in the war, Erik? Is that it?" Alana asked.
What? Why would she be asking that? He just stared blankly back at her.
"Damien fought in the war, and he said that some of his friends got hurt in battle, and some were never the same after they came back home. Is that what happened to you? Did you hurt your face?" She spoke as though she believed she already knew the answer.
Of course, she was wrong. But oh, how he wished she wasn't. It would be much better to have received an injury in battle than to have been born as a freak. So much better. He had a reply for Alana: "Yes."
She looked at him sympathetically, and he felt mild frustration. He didn't want to be pitied, he just wanted to be normal. She moved closer and sat down on the straw beside him. "Erik," she said sadly. "You don't have to wear a mask."
"I do." Erik whispered. If she only knew what was beneath…
"No, you don't. And you don't have to hide. Not from me, not from anyone else. Your scars, whatever's behind that mask…it's an honor. It shows everyone what you were willing to do for your country." She really believed his lie. She had wanted it to be true, he could tell. She wanted to believe her friend was a good, honest man. "I won't tell you not to wear your mask. Clearly, it makes you feel better to hide your scars. But I'm going to tell you that you don't need to be afraid of the people around you. Once they know who you are and what you've done, they'll see past the mask, and they'll respect you." Oh, the irony of it all. Erik grimaced. If Alana knew who he really was, and all the terrible things he'd done, he was sure she would leave, and he would never see her again.
"So." Alana pulled back her dripping wet hair. "What happened, in the war?"
And Erik found himself spinning a tale of courage, loyalty, patriotism and tragic violence.
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I was a lieutenant, serving in Marshal MacMahon's army. We were at Sedan when the Germans surrounded us and attacked. Our army was outnumbered, and supplies were low. We knew the odds were against us, but we had sworn we would never go down without a fight.
I was in the first cavalry. We charged on the Germans, straight into the line of fire. We all had this inescapable sense that we were charging straight to our deaths, but it was an honor. I had my sword, and I was cutting down enemy soldiers left and right, but I could see my fellow men going down all around me. Only a few moments later, my horse was shot out from under me. He was dead, and I had to continue the fight on foot. Things were not going well for our side. I was caught by a bullet-it grazed me in the ribs-but I had to keep fighting. I had to stop the Germans from taking the fortress, had to protect Napoleon III. France.
After a while I managed to break out of the more intense, close fighting. Then I saw someone on the ground, a comrade of mine, a fellow lieutenant. He was hurt, but still alive. The grass was on fire, and the fire was creeping closer and closer to him. I pulled him to his feet, and he revived a little, able to walk if he leaned against me. I walked through the field, supporting his weight on my right side, trying to find a safe place for him to lay down and rest until the fighting stopped. We were dodging shots here and there, narrowly missed many times by the bullets of enemy guns. Then, all of a sudden, there was an explosion. It came from nowhere. Without warning, there was blinding light and heat and burning pain, and then there was nothing.
When I finally woke up, I was lying on the battlefield, surrounded by dead bodies, some Germans, but mostly my fellow soldiers. I was on my side, and when I turned my head, there was what was left of the comrade I had tried to save. His body was ruined, blown into pieces that were burnt beyond recognition, but I knew it was him. The explosion had struck him full on, and his body had been a shield for mine, however weak. My face felt as if it were on fire and I had burns all over me, but what hurt me the most was the fact that my fellow lieutenant had died, his body saving me from death in the explosion when I had been trying to save him.
After a while I got up, and tried to find help in town, but whenever a person saw me, they would run away. I didn't understand. Eventually a war doctor found me and he tried to treat my injuries, but he said nothing could be done for my face. He showed me a mirror, and I saw for the first time what had happened to me. He wouldn't even look at me straight in the eyes. I found I couldn't either. I broke the mirror, and I ran from that place.
We had lost the battle, and surrendered in disgrace. Napoleon III was captured, and thousands of my fellow soldiers were taken prisoner. I wished I could have been one of the ones dead, or captured. I had no one. No family. No friends. And no one would come near me, not after what I looked like, or the way I acted. I wasn't myself anymore. I took to wearing a mask and only going out at night, trying to hide from the reality of what had happened to my country, what was happening to me. But I couldn't.
I went to my old home to take my money and my other horse, Raven, with me as I tried to find a new place to start over. I brought my love of music with me as well. That was the only thing the war didn't beat out of me. Nothing could take my music away.
I wandered through the country, and finally found that house, outside Détente, and that is where I stayed, until you came.
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As Erik told his story, he watched Alana become absorbed in his completely fictitious account. All his reading of Paris newspapers and war stories seemed to have paid off. He hoped there were no inconsistencies in his tale, details he had given here and there that didn't match up with things he'd said before, but apparently his story had Alana convinced that he was a horribly scarred former lieutenant, hurt in a battle while trying to save a fallen comrade. An honorable man. Alana didn't need to know that in reality, he would never have fought in the war; he didn't care who was in control. He would be an outcast in any society.
When he had finished spinning his narrative of lies, Alana said, on the verge of tears, "That's such a sad story. People really treated you that way…ran away from you… just because of your face? That's ridiculous. If they had only known that you got those injuries trying to protect them!" People had treated him much, much worse than that because of his face, Erik thought bitterly, and because they had actually known the truth, that he had been born that way. Cursed. "So, do you ever have…flashbacks of the war? Or of other things?" Alana asked, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. Erik suspected where this conversation was going.
"Yes I do," he said; a half-truth. He had many, many flashbacks everyday, his thoughts constantly full of sorrowful memories.
"Are they…is that what happened, back at the hotel room?" she asked, apprehensive. "Did you think you were…somewhere else?"
"Yes," Erik said sadly, and this time he was telling the truth.
"Did you think I was Christine?" He just looked at Alana, grief-stricken and ashamed that she was a witness to some of his most humiliating spells of insanity. He didn't want to talk about it. Especially not about Christine. "The girl from your pictures, and songs?"
"I don't understand it," Erik said, covering his face with his hands. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me before." At least, he didn't think it had.
"It's all right," Alana said, though she still looked upset, and thoughtful. "But I would like to know…who was she? What happened to her?"
Erik lowered his hands from his face and took a deep breath. What could he say? Who was Christine? She was everything to him. He let out a long sigh. "She was…the woman I loved. I still love." He struggled to keep his emotions under control, trying to push back the rising, all-consuming despair. Talking about this was even harder than he had anticipated. "She was my reason for living. For fighting. I fought for her, so hard."
Alana's face was full of sympathy. "What happened?"
"She saw my face. And later she fell in love with another man. And I had to let her go." He closed his eyes and clenched his fist, shaking with emotion. Instinctively one hand went to the ring on the silver chain around his neck.
"I'm so sorry." Alana touched his shoulder, and he flinched, making her draw her hand back immediately. He could think of nothing to say. Erik knew she pitied him, wanted to make him feel better, but he didn't want her to feel that way, didn't even want her to try. She couldn't do anything. He just wanted her to see him as a normal person, but there was no hope of that now.
"You've been through a lot, Erik," she said, "and I'll probably never be able to understand exactly what you're feeling or what you've gone through, but please just remember…there have been a lot of things that went wrong in my life too, so if you ever feel sad or angry or afraid, you can come find me. I know what it's like to have my heart broken. I'll always be willing to listen and help you in any way I can." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment and sighed. "God only knows how many nights I cried in my room alone, wishing I had someone to talk to, someone who could understand what was going on in my life and how I felt." Alana turned back to Erik. "I don't want anyone else to have to feel like that. Especially not you. You've saved my life more than once, and you've been such a good friend to me already. You deserve to be happy."
Erik looked at her in surprise. He deserved to be happy? The irony of it was unbearable. She thought he was a good friend, that he deserved to be happy, he who had done so many terrible things, who was lying to her even now. He hated himself. Hated, hated, hated himself. But he couldn't tell her the truth. She wanted to believe his story was true, and that he was a good person. How could he tell her otherwise? It would ruin everything. He was protecting her, by lying. And he was protecting himself. This way was easier…for him, the art of deception had always been easy. It was all he had ever known.
"What are you thinking?" Alana was gazing closely at him, as if she were trying to read his mind. "You still look…upset. What's wrong?"
He closed his eyes again. "Please. Leave me. I just want to be alone," he whispered.
Alana's face fell and she bit her lip. "Are you sure? You can tell…"
"Go. Now."
She nodded slowly, clearly disappointed in him, and went back to the hotel, leaving Erik sitting on the floor, ignoring Raven, who nudged him concernedly. He just stared at the wall, with half-dead eyes, and found himself singing the words,
Masquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Hide your face so the world will never find you
Masquerade
Seething shadows, breathing lies
Masquerade
You can fool any friend who ever knew you
…run and hide but a face will still pursue you…