Hey! I'm so happy I finally found time today to post this! I've been away all day and I thought that I had to push it off until tomorrow, but now I can. Thank you for all the reviews and alerts and favorites from last chapter, it all means a lot to me. I have no energy to write a large author's note, so I'll leave you to read right now. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!
Chapter VI: The Heart of the Labyrinth
She was only in the tunnel for a few moments and the path was already never-ending. The glow from the candle was her only light and it strained her eyes as she tried to look beyond of what it lit. Theresa looked around, using a hand to guide her through the path, though the cold, stone walls almost made her turn around and walk back. It gave her an eerie feeling in her stomach as she turned the corner, she even felt the coldness that skimmed her feet under the soles of her slippers.
She went to walk further, but felt her foot drop as there was no floor. She tripped forward over a few steps that she hadn't seen and stumbled back up when she found herself face down.
Theresa groaned, "Ow," this was a bad idea, she needed more light to see where she was going. She sat up and felt her chest ache as she had done so. Theresa tried her best to keep her head up as she tried to stand on her two feet, but her body protested against it. She shook her head, mumbling, "Non si torna indietro ora, farò questo, anche se muoio facendo." And with that, she got up, rubbing her forehead and then brushing off the dirt on her frock. She rolled back her shoulders and craned her neck until she had heard a slight crack.
She winced, she hated the sound of bones cracking.
Theresa looked to her side, moving the candle onto the wall to see a torch. This would do better, by far. She was actually surprised the candle light didn't even go out yet. When she took the torch down from the wall, she made sure that there was slightly some alcohol on the wick before exchanging the light from the candle to the torch. It took a bit of time and when it did happen, she blew out the smaller light as she was introduced with a bigger one.
She sighed happily, "Much better."
Theresa's eyes adjusted slowly to a better light and she moved the torch a bit forward, looking down to see that there were indeed a lot of steps to go down. She sighed, she was definitely a naïve and stupid girl for even thinking that this was going to be easy. Her hand still skimmed the wall as she carefully walked down each step one by one.
One looked more strange than it should look. She looked up, she still had a lot left. The step that she was about to go on didn't seem right, she took the candle in her hand and cautiously dropped it in the middle. In a flash, the candle disappeared under the floor as it gave out. Her eyes widened and she waited until she heard the distinct sound of a splash. She gulped, holding her breath as she watched the flooring of the step go back to normal.
She closed her eyes for a moment, this wasn't her best idea. Theresa quickly turned her head to see if it was too late to turn back around and run to her room where she belonged.
No! Her mind yelled, Don't look backward, you can do this! Theresa sighed and she turned forward, looking down at the step with fear. I should skip that one, she thought and she did. Theresa jumped over from the step to the one after the next, with less grace than a jumping ballerina would have.
Her balance struggled as she landed and she almost tripped again along with her torch. She held the wall to help her stand straight up, that was a trap on the step before, wasn't it? She thanked heaven that she didn't get caught in it then. Theresa looked down at the other steps and groaned, there had to be a way to cut through it all. But, she held onto her tongue and tried not to back away from this at all.
She slowly continued on, being more and more cautious than she was before. Thank God for the light, she thought to herself.
"There should at least be some light on the way, it's far too dark in here to wander alone." And yet, she was wandering alone. Theresa could admit that since she had left Italy her judgement had lessened greatly. Maybe because of her new-found freedom? She didn't know. But it was most likely it. The steps didn't become as steep as she continued down them, which to her meant that they should be ending soon enough. Theresa looked around, stepping off the final step. Now it just seemed like a hill that was made from cobble stones. Almost like a downward street in a way.
She sighed, it was better than being on steps that she could trip and fall on... with traps somewhere along them. She took slow steps along it, looking back and forth between the walls like she was waiting for them to close in on her. She was relieved that they haven't.
Then she heard it.
Not the voice this time, but dim sounds of sorrowful music. Theresa stopped in her place and tried to lean in closer to see if she could hear it. Was that a violin? Why couldn't she tell? It was some sort of string. Though, sorrowful, it was sweet and gentle to her ear.
Theresa found herself drawn to it and when she moved forward, she found that she no longer needed the torch in her hand. There were lit candles already along a... lake. The misty lights glowed the way to the sorrowful, yet beautiful sound of the violin. Theresa felt herself in a hypnotic trance by it and she didn't realize that she was dipping the lit part of the torch into the lake to put it out. Her mind told her that she should be there now, but her body brutally fought against it. She felt herself slowly drop the wooden torch onto the ground with a loud clatter as she stepped in.
She didn't hear either the loud torch falling and the loud splash she made when she entered the lake.
The water was freezing! Theresa tried her best to pay no mind to it and she looked around to see that the walls around the lake were absolutely beautiful. It refreshed her to see that there was no matters of cobwebs, mice, and other things that could distract her. Her mind was whirling and she made sure that she trudged this lake in silence and awe. Theresa held onto the wall, the water was about up to the middle of her thigh.
Theresa was so in her head that she didn't know that the music even stopped for a second, it was almost as if someone heard her coming. Her mind didn't take it in and when she weaved a corner, her eyes widened as she felt her air supply cut off as she was pushed against the wall.
Theresa didn't even have time to think or pay attention. She was now looking at a tall man who was looking at her with pure hatred and wearing a mask that covered half of his face, it was white. Theresa didn't realize how familiar he was supposed to look to her and her eyes began to water as she felt her air supply leave. She saw though a menacing fire engulf in his eyes, which Theresa found quite terrifying. "What are you doing here?" He growled, the voice and tone were so familiar and she almost winced when she actually heard it.
"I-," she choked out. She couldn't continue, or talk in a full sentence. She tried though, "The... mirror."
"The mirror?" The man furrowed his eyebrow at her, but didn't loosen his grip on her neck. "How do you know about the mirror?"
Theresa tried to answer, she craned her neck so that her head was hitting the wall more, but it only became more difficult. She was eye-level with him. He had beautiful eyes. Green, her father's were green. She gulped, the fear slowly escaped her as she stared into them. The man loosened the grip around her neck only a bit. Theresa could answer now, and she did so tremblingly, "I-It was open... now it was closed. I..." she trailed off, unsure of how to make it look like she wasn't prying... even though she clearly was
"Pried." He stated knowingly, as if he was reading her thoughts. Theresa only stood there under his grip against the wall, now somewhat able to breathe again. She was silent. "Your name." He didn't ask, he ordered.
Theresa remained silent, but that was something that she shouldn't have done. She felt herself being pushed against the wall harder, his weight on hers so that she couldn't move. Theresa suddenly realized who this man was... the Phantom of the Opera. He knew her name, didn't he? This man had to be him, he just had to be. Why was he pretending to not know her name? He demanded again, loudly, his voice bouncing in between the walls of the cave, "Mademoiselle, your name!"
"You know it already!" She slurred in one breath harshly and as loudly as she could. She tried to grab his hand to pull it off of her throat, but she failed. Theresa gritted her teeth. The man eyed her carefully for a moment, his eyes narrowed as they looked her up and down with the same menacing look. Theresa just stayed there unmoving. The man acted like he had never seen her before. His face actually softened as he continued to look at her. Theresa stayed like that for a while, her chest heaving up and down quickly along with her heart beat pounding like a drum.
The fear was no longer there when she continued looking at him.
He told her more calmly, "Then confirm it." It was an order, but since it sounded more calm she could hear his tenor-like voice. It was like a piece of velvet to her ears as it passed through and it sent her mind whirling. She opened her mouth, but no words had come out. She didn't know what to say, she didn't even know what to think. Her mouth moved, but she found herself speechless. Talk! Why aren't you talking?
Theresa didn't know why and the voice in her head apparently didn't know why either. She was starting to feel dizzy, her knees were becoming weak.
The man looked at her carefully, his brow furrowed toward her with the creases of his forehead frowning. He let go of her throat and Theresa gained her breath. She breathed in loudly, taking in all the air that was around. She closed her eyes for a moment, muttering to him, "Thank you, monsieur."
He told her, ignoring the thank you, "Stop making me think that you're deaf. Confirm it, if you think I know it."
Theresa slowly looked up, touching her throat where he had gripped it before. It was almost as if she had felt indents from where he had grabbed her with his leather glove. It wasn't from the lack of air that she couldn't speak to him, it was mostly because she was in shock. She gulped, and then came out with her assumption, but she didn't realize how weary her voice sounded, and drowsy. "But, Monsieur O.G.," the Phantom's green eyes seemed to spark, "you should... know...," she trailed off, blinking repeatedly as her vision began to blur, "it..." Stop being foolish and speak, she told herself.
Her legs were still weak and then she quickly stated before she fainted in the water and having everything go black around, "Already."
"Theresa!" Erik caught her quickly before she actually hit the water. The cloth of her dress and a little bit of her brown hair were the only parts of her actually getting wet. He stared down at her in disbelief and slowly he moved his hands in a way to bring her into his arms. She only got more wet in the process, but she didn't fall in completely. He rose up, carrying her limp body, and slowly he walked back to his lair to lay her down.
Occasionally he would steal a glance down at her and he shook his head each time in between. He shouldn't have been surprised. After observing her for a number of days, maybe weeks, he noticed that she wasn't one who would see something strange without it haunting her.
No, she was curious... observant. She had a strong will and a strong head. She could be stubborn, he happened to see both her dark and gentle side. The dark side wasn't expected when he had heard her that time on top of the roof. She was just clever and had some wit in her.
He stepped out of the water and silently walked past all of his possessions and to the room with the black swan bed. Theresa shivered against him and snuggled more into his chest as he placed her onto the red satin sheets. It seemed a while before Erik felt bad that she had to lay there in wet clothing, so he sat her up and reluctantly removed the frock she had on. She was now left in nothing but her chemise. Being a gentleman, he tried not to look at that as he laid her back down. Her eyes remained closed like she was sleeping peacefully.
He went over to her feet and then took off her soaked slippers. Maybe now she wouldn't be as cold as she was before. Erik looked back up at Theresa's delicate face. He stared at it, slowly moving toward her. She looked very much at peace at that moment. He took a small curl in his hand and moved it behind her ear to get a look. She was beautiful, he would admit, no wonder the lead tenor found himself attracted to her. He didn't realize that his hand touched the side of her cheek, feeling her high cheekbones against his glove.
Her skin wasn't porcelain, no, it had more colour. But it seemed to him that the people in charge of make-up tried to make her skin like ivory. He would have to have a word or two with the managers to not cover her with so much, she didn't seem natural with the work that they had done to make her look lighter. His hand travelled down to where her lips were. They were only pursed into a thin line.
Something stirred in Erik that he didn't know he could feel, compassion... almost. He suddenly felt guilty gripping her throat like he had done before and pushed her against the wall. He removed his hand from her face and went to walk away, but something red that was a little over her chest caught his eye. Erik looked over to see that there was a rather large spot on her chest that was red and looked like it was going to bruise.
He looked down her body to see the bottom of her legs, actually more by her ankles, were scratched up.
He sighed, "What did you get yourself into, mademoiselle?" Erik looked back at her face, as if he was waiting for an answer from her unconscious body. He was going to wait, he decided, she might have gotten hurt on the way down here. He knew the feeling of being woken up while being tended. He still remembered the sting of his wounds from being whipped when he was tended by the younger Antoinette, his back burned in reminder of that.
Erik took a step back, holding the rope that would allow the black curtain to fall around her. He stood there for a moment, before actually pulling down on it so that she was surrounded by it. She might have seemed peaceful to him, but how little did he know that her mind was far from ease.
It was night. Theresa found herself walking down a familiar road that she hadn't walked down since she was ten. It had cobble stones aligned in it as she walked quietly and she saw the familiar gondolas slowly moving in the canals. This was Venice, the town she was born in. Theresa smiled softly knowing the memories that were so sweet, so pure that had came from here. However, there were memories that were so bad that she never touched upon again. She stopped in her place, recognizing the familiar part with the carts relished with fruit that some found forbidden and some delicious.
The stars that were in the sky circled around the building she used to call home. Theresa shifted her body so that she could look upon it, with her ears perking at the sounds of her mother's sobs inside. Her mouth parted as she walked over to the window with its curtains wide open. She faced the familiar ivory white living room. Theresa remembered it all, the cold, tan tiled floor, the brown couches with the awful floral pattern, and the clearest thing of all... the grand piano that was slightly out of tuned. Her father was too sick to tune it and her mother never gotten to getting someone to fix it.
Her father came home from the infirmary, with the suggestion of wanting to die at home with his family. Theresa remembered this day, this night. She was faced with her younger self's back to her, ten, she was ten. She was sitting on top of the piano's bench, playing a song that sounded sharp because of it. Her head was hanging low as she only played with her right hand, not her left. Theresa didn't learn to play with chords until after her father had passed. It was strange, her mother taught her to play with the chords, not standing how she would only play the melody and not the harmony, not the pianist, who was her father.
Theresa's shoulders slumped as she watched herself, the frown on her face appeared and she closed her eyes. In a few moments, her mother would come in and tell her, 'La mia bella figlia, è il momento. Dite la vostra addio, chiede per voi.' It meant, my beautiful daughter, it's time. Say goodbye to him, he asks for you. She couldn't bare to look at her mother's tear strained face, though later on in life she was a witch to her in all ways possible, she wasn't during this time. It broke her in half and she was such a strong woman, a strong willed woman by far.
When she opened her eyes, it was too early. She saw her mother walk into the living room with her face all red and her eyes puffy. It was almost like Theresa was reliving it all and she was seeing it through her younger eyes. Angelina placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder as she left the bench and led her to the door. Theresa walked down the narrow hallway, it stretched further than it actually was. She stopped at the room closing her eyes, debating if she should go in.
"Theresa," he knew she was out there and his frail voice was calling her. She sighed. Theresa made her decision to come in and she tried to not look at the bed though she was walking toward it. The image of her dying father was something that she would rather not see. Theresa stood there inches away from her father, not looking at him. "Theresa, my love, look at me," her eyes slowly moved onto him, her body was trembling, seeing his delicate hand extended toward her.
Theresa's eyes gotten watery, but she didn't cry as she placed hers over it. He pulled weakly on her hand and she moved toward him, kneeling next to him. She gulped, "Father..."
"Shh," he hushed her before she could say anything more. "My love, be quiet, I want to talk to you," she nodded her head, and he had let go of her hand, so that he could stroke her cheek. His green eyes were losing the color that was left in them and the tan skin, was now turning cold and pale. "Remember... that opera we saw mama in recently?" She nodded slowly, but she didn't show the same smile on her face that she had while watching it. "When you think of me, I want you to remember times we shared... like that time."
"Times we shared?" She repeated, "No," she shook her head no in disbelief to see her father's face falling, "no, we still have time left, right? We can share more!"
"Hush," his fragile thumb against her skin felt like it could break, Theresa felt the bone in it. "You and I both know that we cannot, darling. Now, I want you to listen to me..." he coughed, drawing his hand back to cover it and not show the blood that was coming out of his mouth to her. Theresa caught a glimpse of it and cringed, about to turn away from it, but her father pointed to the near handkerchief. She gave it to him and noticed the slight blood that already stained it.
She hid her grimace as best as she can, but her father noticed it anyway. Davide reluctantly took the handkerchief and wiped his mouth and hand from the specks of blood that would be visible. She gulped as he gripped her hand, squeezing it more tightly. He continued to her, "Your mother and I both love you very much. I don't want this to be the final image of me that you'll have." Theresa felt a large lump in her throat, she wanted to cry so badly, but the tears didn't come down so easily. Why didn't they come down?
"Continue with the piano, you grow everyday, learn your chords," Theresa chuckled sadly, causing her father to laugh, it was a raspy kind of laugh and sent her chills up her spine. "I'm sure while I'm gone your mother will take it within herself to teach you to sing, but I... know... you already—."
"Father," Theresa stopped him, hearing the weakness in his voice as he tried to continue, "I... understand."
"I am... g-glad... to hear that, my darling." Theresa's breath caught in her throat and she felt herself almost letting her tears escape her eyes. She tried not letting them. "You have a gift, and I don't want you wasting it." Theresa nodded, understanding. His green eyes flickered to her hazel eyes, "You are young... too young to see me like this, I am sorry... but I had to say it to you. Your mother didn't want you... to."
She could see her mother wanting her not to.
"I love you," that was all she said. "And... I'm going to miss you, papa."
He smiled at his daughter and had let go of her hand once more to stroke her cheek again. "As do I," he started, the pad of his thumb actually felt warmer than it was before, like the next four words weren't going to be his last. Theresa sat there in silence as she watched her father die before his very eyes, "And I... a-always... will." With that, his hand fell limply off her cheek and he set his head down on the pillow. His lids closed over his green eyes, Theresa didn't have enough time to catch them and mesmerize them before he would die.
Theresa stared down at his hand that was hanging off the bed and the skin was completely white. She slowly stood up, and she found herself frozen, unable to move. Outside of the house, Theresa's eyes remained closed, feeling herself back in her body, but unfortunately she was still living it. She slowly opened her eyes to see her ten year old self, standing there frozen. Her mother stood there, standing there over her worried. The two were silent for a while, the tension that lasted until she was twenty-two started at that moment.
Her mother was about to say, 'Allora? Perché lì, Theresa?' She remembered the snap her mother used for it, it meant, 'Well? Why are standing there?' Her brown eyes that looked like chocolate at times flickered with a sad anger. The young version of Theresa looked up at her in shock, she was still watering at her eyes, not releasing them at all. Theresa, outside, felt the same lump in her throat that was there begging her to.
She opened her mouth and said along with herself inside, "Lui è andato." (He is gone.) Her mother gasped with horror and quickly walked past, pushing her shoulder a bit to move her out of the way. Theresa stood there and watched herself staring down at the floor, unsure how to comprehend it all. She wasn't even crying yet, why wasn't she even crying? Theresa turned away and leaned against the window, not being able to be bare with seeing her take her place on the bench where she first was and already start what her father had told her.
Theresa covered her ears, hearing the sad melody go into her ears louder than it ever had before. She inhaled sharply, the loud music came to her even more through her covered ears. She slid down the window until she was sitting onto the ground. She seethed like the music was actually causing harm to her, it wouldn't stopped. Not even a little bit did it stop. She asked it softly, "Stop it, please."
Her father's green eyes then came to her, she closed her eyes, for once she didn't want to see them. Maybe she did memorize his dying eyes, they were showing themselves now to her. The music only became louder and this time maybe, it sounded a little differently, more... cryptic and dark. The chords were there, too, she wasn't playing this inside. She knew that she wasn't playing this inside. She didn't dare to turn around to check what she was doing, but she clamped her ears tightly with her hands.
"Stop," she begged. She even closed her eyes tighter to not let her father's eyes get to her. She now shouted, "Stop!"
Theresa sat up, breathing sharply. She felt a cold sweat collect on her brow and her chest was heaving up and down as she breathed in rapidly. She gulped down feeling something wet fall against her cheeks. She wiped the tears away from her face and looked down at her hand. That was when she realized that she wasn't in her bed, or her room. Her eyes focused on the red satin sheets that she was on and startled, she scanned around her to see a black curtain around her. She then looked down at herself to see that she was in nothing but her chemise.
Not only was her heart pounding, but her head was now doing the same. When she realized that there was a rope a little behind the curtain, she moved it and quietly pulled down the rope to see the black curtain rise up. She moved her feet over the bed and she looked over to see the intricate design of it. She bit her bottom lip when she realized it was shaped as a swan. A black swan. She smiled softly at it and then looked over to see her shoes and her frock folded on a nearby chair. What had happened and how did she get here?
She frowned, she hadn't any idea on how and why. "I see you're up." She snapped her head up to see a man by the entrance, he was carrying a few things that looked like they were from an infirmary. Theresa only stayed there silent as she watched him move, so gracefully, so flawlessly across the room that she was in. She had forgotten to continue with her hoarse breathing and then continued on with it to not be out of breath.
Theresa didn't do anything as he dabbed the cotton ball with alcohol. He knelt down before her and took her leg in his grasp, but she took it away. He only looked up at her and stated, "You're hurt."
She was? Theresa looked down at her legs to see that her ankles were scratched up. She nodded, "I know." She regained some of the memory of how she might have gotten that. She told him quietly, almost as a mutter, "I tripped down stairs before. Steep ones."
"So let me tend them," he insisted, going for her other leg, but she snatched that away. He looked back up at her annoyed, he was clearly irritated already by her reluctance. "Mademoiselle," he started, through his teeth, "surely you don't want these wounds to be infected." Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, he tried to kill her before! That was the Phantom! He pushed her against the wall, choking her to death. She almost died and he expected her to trust him enough to tend to her. He was mad. "Are you afraid?"
She shook her head, "It's not the fear that is the reason."
"Then what is?"
"The fact that you almost killed me before makes someone like me not trust you, Monsieur Phantom." He moved his eyes downward so that they were looking at the ground. Theresa sat there, unmoving. She watched him carefully, seeing genuine guilt on his face. She pursed her lips into a fine line.
The Phantom sighed, he still held his hand out that was covered with a leather glove. He stated to her, "I promise, that I wouldn't hurt you, Signora Baccelli." For some reason, she actually gave him back her leg slowly and placed it over his leather glove. He warned her, "This might sting a little." Theresa nodded, she knew that already. She was tended on before she didn't need this man to—. She hissed, interrupting her thoughts as she felt him rub the alcohol. The Phantom didn't even look up, "Am I hurting you?"
Even though he was asking, he was still continuing. She denied the sting and shook her head no, "But it stings more than a little bit."
"Well, I would apologize for that, but I can't control it." Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, hearing the sarcasm in his voice. She didn't comment on it. When he was done, the Phantom gestured for her other leg, but she didn't give it to him. "Signora Baccelli, you are going to let me do one but not the other?"
Theresa sighed and slowly gave it to him, muttering, "Don't call me Signora Baccelli, I have a name."
"And why should I not call you formally, Theresa?" He asked calmly, tending to the bottom of her leg. So you do know my name, why ask it before? She thought. Theresa didn't think that he had heard that. "Hmm?"
She stated, timidly, "It sounds like you are addressing my mother."
"Yes, and you don't want to be like her, am I right?" Theresa snatched her leg out of his gloved hand only to feel the scratches burn in protest. He didn't rub the alcohol in yet completely. The Phantom looked at her with his eyes mixed with both annoyance and amusement.
"So you did hear it all that night on the roof, didn't you?" She asked, ignoring the pain of her leg burning. He heard it all. She was hoping that he didn't and that maybe he came a little before he had dropped that ring on the ground.
Erik cocked his brow, but nodded, "I was there, wasn't I?" She nodded to him slowly, he was there. Then he scowled at her, "Stop acting like a child now and let me finish." She nodded again and obediently she gave him back her leg to let him finish up. He finished in silence and Theresa sat there with her eyes looking down at her lap. She felt so inferior to the Phantom. She wasn't afraid of him, no, in fact she was far from being afraid from. Theresa suddenly felt her chest twist tightly as she decided to look up at him when he was going to put back the alcohol.
She gulped, looking back over at her flock. She gained the nerve to ask, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer to it. "W-Why am I only in my undergarments, Monsieur Phantom?"
The Phantom closed his eyes for a moment and looked over to see the frock folded, with her slippers on top. Theresa could've sworn that she had seen the visible part of his face churn with slight insult. "You fainted and your dress got wet." He walked over to the frock, taking it out from under the slippers and feeling it for a moment. He stated to her, "You were shivering before so I had taken it off of you. It is still damp, but if you are uncomfortable I am sure it would suffice for the time being." He went to throw it over to her, but she held up her hand, shaking her head.
"It is fine, monsieur. I was only wondering. I didn't feel uncomfortable before, if that was what you are thinking. I really hope you understand that I didn't mean offence—." She could've thanked him for not letting her continue, she didn't even know what she was saying.
"No offence was taken, mademoiselle. You talk too much." Only when I'm nervous, she corrected silently. He folded the frock back up and the two faced an awkward silence. Theresa didn't know what to say to him. She felt so nervous, she had no idea why she had. It was almost like she was about to step onto the stage. Whenever she spoke, she was so afraid of saying the wrong thing to him. He started again, "What was going through your mind when entering, mademoiselle?"
"I could've sworn I told you before to call me Theresa, monsieur." She stated to him before answering. He seemed taken back that she used that tone with him, it was so rigid and firm. Theresa took a breath when he nodded. She admitted honestly, "Surely that I wasn't going to come down here and also that you needed more lighting... No one should really go by themselves through there."
"What did you think that you were going to find... Theresa?" He asked her, his tone was clearly irritated by her. The Phantom disappeared out of her sights to walk into another part of his... home. He didn't even wait for an answer from her, which left her to assume that he didn't care for it.
Theresa stood up and walked over to collect her slippers before following him out. She didn't expect to see what she was going to when she came out of his bedroom. It was beautiful. She looked around to see artwork, sculptures that were deformed in the face, there were a couple around of those sculptures around. They were made to be ugly, but how they were formed Theresa could see that it was pure artistry. Theresa looked to find him by an organ where she noticed sheets of paper cluttered and other things along with it. His violin was on top of the table, the sweet and sad violin that she had heard before stepping into the lake.
She ignored his question now, stepping down while her hand traced the cave walls. Theresa stopped when she saw a mannequin looking back at her with a sewn in smile. The mannequin had eyes that were a smoldering brown and she looked like an actual person, if that said person didn't have a body to go with her face. Theresa looked over to the Phantom who was gathering papers off the stand on the organ. Then it came to her, he was the one playing before. She asked him, still ignoring the previous question, "Were you playing before?"
He nodded with the back of his head to her. But then he quickly turned his head to her, "Why?" Theresa just looked at him, she heard a caring tone in his voice, which to her was strange from the previous scowls and sarcasm he used with her. "Did I wake you before?"
She shook her head no, even though it sort of did. "I had a nightmare before," it was actually reliving a nightmare, "your music didn't at all wake me, Monsieur Phan—."
"Erik."
"Excuse me?" Theresa said quickly, the Phantom... did he just say a name?
He sighed, shaking his head, "Never mind, I—."
"No," Theresa gulped, walking toward him. She stepped slowly up the stairs as he looked at her in disbelief. "That's your name? Erik?" Erik nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond to her. "It's a handsome name... Erik. Really, it is. We should meet each other properly now, in a more polite way," she slowly extended her hand toward him with a welcoming smile. "My name is Theresa, the new Prima Donna, and you are, monsieur?"
Erik for a moment looked at the girl like she was foolish. She really was going to do this, start this? He was the Phantom of the Opera! Those who would see his face would cower in fear, even if he wore a mask. And this woman, was standing in front of him... without any fear on her face and she had trust in her eyes for him as she looked up into his. This was... strange. He looked down at her hand, she was holding out determined for him to shake it. He reached for it reluctantly and took it gently within his.
He brought to his lips and before kissing her knuckles lightly, he muttered, "And I am Erik, the Phantom of the Opera." Her smile grew wider when she felt his lips on her skin, they were warm and moist, just how lips should be. He let go of her hand, and asked her curiously, "You are not frightened by me, Theresa?"
She shook her head no, right at that moment she knew that she wasn't. No matter the story of him being a murderer, she strangely had trust in him. Erik had a gentle side to him, he tended to her before when she didn't want him to and he was persistent on doing it. "Actually I am not."
"You are sure?" He asked in hope... he didn't care about what she thought... but it would be nice to know that not everyone was frightened by the Phantom in the Opera Populaire.
She nodded, "I am positive, Erik. I'm not." She found herself looking at his handsome features that were on the unmasked side of his face. But mentally slapped her forehead to look away. She added, "It's only a mask, nothing more. And what happened in the past..." she trailed off, she was going too far, she didn't know what he thought of that still. Erik narrowed his eyes at her curiously, waiting for her to continue. She finished cautiously, "is in the past..."
Erik added quietly after her, "Indeed."
"And you are not the man that Henri told me you were," she told him, "your skin isn't yellow and your eyes... aren't sunken in."
Henri... who was Henri again? He sounded like a drunken stagehand. Joseph Buquet used to get away with telling stories like that to the ballerinas when he was drunk. Erik commented, "Sounds like a drunken stagehand." He walked away from her to put his violin away and back into his case. Theresa looked around and she saw several mirrors broken and pictures of a woman draped around Erik's home. She looked behind her shoulder to where the mannequin was, they looked almost identical... or maybe they were.
She shook her head no, walking to one of the pictures of the woman's face with wild curly hair, she had a beautiful face and smile to go along with it. She lightly touched it, tracing the drawing with her finger. She stated to him honestly, "Lately he's more of a drunken lead tenor." Oh, his name was Henri. That name kept escaping his head whenever he would hear of it. Loud snaps from the violin case caused her to turn on her heel as he turned on his own. She quietly asked him, "How long have I been out, monsieur?"
"Not that long," he answered fixing his gloves and sleeves, "an hour and a half at most."
Good, she should go now. Go back to her room. Before anyone would notice, that is. She nodded, with a smile, she started toward the lake, "Maybe I should go, before anyone would notice."
"Go?" Erik questioned, causing Theresa to stop in her step and turn to look at him. Why did he question it like that? "You can't."
Theresa's shoulders slumped and she looked around herself, before looking at him taken back. "I can't? What do you mean by that? Of course, I can." Erik remained silent and the silence gave her the answer of why... or so she thought. She softened and she shook her head, "I will come back again—."
"No, child, that's not why!" Theresa was surprised at how his voice raised from being so gentle and calm. She now almost was frightened by him. She narrowed her eyes at him and stood there frozen like she was about to be hit by a carriage. It hit her, he didn't trust to keep where he was hidden. "You know where I am, I cannot allow you to go up above and spill it when you are asked about me."
"I already lied about your existence before when I saw you and you don't trust me to do it again?" She inquired to him, Theresa could see the anger when she had talked back to him in his eyes. He wasn't talked back to a lot, was he? Erik saw how insulted she looked when she spoke to him and felt a shiver within him. Her hazel eyes looked like they were scorning him. She continued, "In fact, I lied about it twice, not once. You are still a rumour to the performers that saw a letter, I covered that up for you. So if anything, you should be thanking me. You're lucky that I hadn't decided to turn you in to the police here when I found your home, Erik, the whole time it didn't even cross my mind."
How dare this woman talk to him like this? He would not allow it, especially in his own lair! "That doesn't mean anything. You might not even be able to cover it up again."
"I will be able to," she told him firmly, she would be, no matter what he would say. "And they aren't fools, I think several of people would realize that I have disappeared."
"You would be surprised with how many fools are in the Opera Populaire, mademoiselle." Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, they weren't foolish. They would notice their Prima Donna missing, wouldn't they? They were foolish... actually, she would admit, both Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin weren't the brightest, Henri was already drunk and he would have a hangover in the morning to not even notice... She shook her head, no they would notice, why was she being so ridiculous right now?
The two stood their ground and the tension went from nothing to the point of no comfort. Theresa felt like she had to go. She didn't care about the man that had said no, she only had to go.
Theresa gritted her teeth, and looked to the lake to see that at least it was welcoming her to go back to the world above. She slowly walked toward that as Erik continued to let her in shock and disbelief. "I cannot stay, monsieur, I have a performance tomorrow and I should get some sleep like people think I am going to do. I came down on my own, I believe I can go up on my own. Have a good night." He heard how her tone stung with insult and she looked like she was serious for a moment.
Theresa gathered the bottom of her chemise up a bit at her hips before letting her bare feet step into the water. Erik looked at her in total disbelief, he didn't think that she would actually begin to walk ahead. Theresa didn't even look behind her shoulder as she continued forward, her chemise beginning to soak at the bottom and float on the top of the water. She didn't even have to take five more steps for Erik to take notice on how determined this girl was. She really was naïve to start walking in the water and disregard what he said before. Did she not know who he was?
For some reason though, Erik went back to when Theresa did have to lie about his presence... she didn't even say a word of hearing his voice to anyone a few days ago.
Erik grunted before changing his mind quickly, "I have an easier way back to your room, Theresa, if you allow me to lead you." Theresa stopped where she was and turned to the Phantom... or rather Erik curiously. He took his cape and with a swish, draped it over his shoulders before going over to her and gesturing to his boat. Theresa looked over at the gondola, only just noticing it. She hadn't seen that before when she was just walking over to the lake. He held out a hand to help her in and she took it reluctantly as she stepped out of the water to get into the boat easily.
She sat down in the gondola, she couldn't even remember the last time she had sat in one. Probably when she was younger before her father had died. Erik took the oar, stepping in himself and began rowing to the other side of the lake.
There it is, Erik and Theresa's first meeting... well, official meeting. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter and I will see you next chapter! :) Don't forget to like the Facebook page for any sneak peeks, character bios, story covers, and other fun stuff. The link is on my profile. And if you are interested, I just posted a new Harry Potter story recently. If you want to check it out, go right ahead, it's a Sirius/OC.
Happy Veteran's Day!