Ch. 13
Erik had watched her silently for a few moments before he had made his presence known, his fierce gaze focused on her as she had been shuffling through his papers on his desk. They were unfinished scores that were meant for no one to see, and watching her boldness as she invaded his privacy had caused anger to take hold of him.
He was outraged! How dare she have the audacity to enter his room and lay hands upon his personal possessions!
It reminded him of the time when Christine had been so bold as to lay her hand on his mask as he played his music for her beside the lake. How manipulative she had been, soothing him with her voice and touching his face with her gentle hands, only to have intended to rip away his mask!
"Did you think that I would not see you?" he asked through gritted teeth.
He balled his hands into fists at his sides and revealed himself from among the shadows of the corner of the room, taking a few deliberate strides to close the distance between the two of them.
Estella was startled by his presence, and she was confused as to where he had come from, for she had not seen him enter through the hidden door of his music room. Now feeling the full effect of her foolish actions, she felt herself blush profoundly and even grow fearful under his hateful gaze.
"I-I was only looking for you-" she stuttered.
Though she had previously shown courage and even daringly-bold behavior in front of this man, she now felt the fear of what he might do to her.
She had clearly disobeyed his precise instructions not to enter into his territory, even having the rest of the house in its entirety to herself, and yet she had so arrogantly violated his wishes. She was certain that a man with as many secrets as he would not take her behavior lightly.
"And you thought that you would be successful by traipsing around places in which you do not belong?" he questioned in a voice that sounded akin to a growl.
Estella felt herself shrink beneath his glowering gaze, and she nearly tripped over a chair as she attempted to widen the distance between the two of them. Instead, she had only managed to bump into the furniture as she watched him mimick each step that she took, drawing closer to her until she could feel the bare wall against her back.
She felt like she was the prey that had been trapped in a corner by a predator that slowly closed in on her, stalking her with what she would expect would be a wicked grin. But in place of a smirk or any sort of look of amusement was a genuine expression of fury, and she knew that he would not be one to revel in her punishment.
No, there would be no kind of twisted torture inflicted upon her-she would have to face his serious temper, and she did not know for certain how far that would extend.
"I'm sorry! I never should have-"
"Next time, will it be what is beneath my mask that you seek? Are you going to wish to tear it away from my face?" he yelled.
Estella winced from the fierceness of his voice, and it was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Erik, which had only seemed to make matters worse.
"You may be my wife, but I will not allow your inane curiosities to continue! I know what your kind is like, and I refuse to succumb to your deciept!"
"I had no such intentions!" she defended herself.
Though she could not imagine what lay beneath his mask and what, exactly, he was hiding, she would never wish for him to think her as manipulative, for it was not in her nature to be so.
Erik felt his jaw tighten and the overwhelming urge to strike something, though it would never be her. Even if she had turned out to be no better than Christine-provoking his temper by her curiosity and having a fear for him that made him feel less than human-she would never deserve physical abuse.
He knew what it was like to be tortured emotionally and physically, and it was something that he would never wish upon anyone else, especially the woman who could come closest to understanding his own feelings.
How he had misjudged her character! How he had fooled himself into thinking that she was different, when she was clearly not exempt from the prying curiosity and manipulative behavior of everyone else!
"I didn't mean to upset you..."
Erik was so blinded by his fury that he did not listen to what she was saying, instead; he inched his way closer until he was towering above her.
"I will not be blinded by your snares once more! You will not fool me!" he shouted.
Estella turned her head to the side so that she would not be forced to look at him as the tears formed in her eyes and threatened to fall. She took a deep but silent breath in order to calm her nerves, though she could feel the temptation to flee from him agitate her feet. She tried her best to remain still, but her mind was taken elsewhere.
The last time in which she had felt these feelings were years ago, and she mentally berated herself at the fact that they had not disappeared entirely. Would her new husband forever be the reminder of them? Would he be just as any other man she had known?
How changed he was since she had first met him! She could not imagine that the generous and compassionate man who had supposedly married her in order to save her from pitiful circumstances had now become this angry madman before her.
And yet, she could not completely blame him, after all; she had brought it upon herself.
"Please forgive me!" she breathed. "I will leave at once!"
Before she had allowed him the time to respond, she darted into the remaining space between the two of them and turned the corner, where she knew the staircase would be. She did not look back-she couldn't stand to see the expression on his face without falling apart-and she willed her legs not to stop as she ran down each step and out of the door.
Erik was in such a rage that he neither bothered to chase after her nor locked his door, instead; he stormed into his music room and paced back and forth briefly before he sat himself down at his pianoforte with force. It was the only thing that he could do to prevent himself from chasing after her and doing something that he would regret.
He had not even bothered to close the inner door, for all that he could think about was the pain and anguish that he felt-the very same pain that had ignited the adrenaline in his veins and forced his hands to touch the ivory keys.
This was the emotion he had felt which had urged his release through the sound of his music, yet had not inspired him enough to fulfill it. This time, however; he felt the full force of his memories flood his mind, and he was helpless to stop it.
Even after so long, his fingers so easily danced over the keys-a bit roughly, at first, but he did not stop. He could not stop.
His fingers told the story of the scarlet tassles that hung about the dancers' hips as they fluttered about the stage, the crimson velvet curtains that slowly concealed the platform as each production drew to a close, the golden rails of the grand staircases and statues.
The piano sung the song of the night in which the audience had first heard Ms. Daae sing; how her cream-colored dress had glistened under the light and her long brown curls had cascaded down her back as her angelic voice had transported him into another world from beneath the floors.
The dancing, the swaying, the laughter that had filled the world above and had made him wish to be a part of it; how long he had watched the guests and merriment from the confines of his prison!
And then...Christine had followed him through the dark and dreary passageways, even taking his hand, as he led her to the place in which he hoped she would reside with him. How her large brown eyes had taken in the very sight of the place in which he had called 'Home'; how her lips had parted at the splendor of the candlelight!
Erik closed his eyes and continued to play, and he could remember everything about her. His thoughts were translated into the soft notes of a song foreign to his ears, but he could not refrain from letting it continue, for it seemed to be pouring from his very soul.
And after he had allowed himself to dwell on the softness of her hair and the glow to her complexion, he remembered what it was about her that still twisted the knife deep into his heart.
His fingers ran a bit faster and the music picked up an angry speed about it as he felt the jealousy, animosity, and betrayal all over again. He watched her run into the arms of the Vicomte once more from behind his eyelids. He could remember the defeat as he crushed the crimson petals of the rose that was meant for her on the rooftop; how icy the air had been and cold the snow was, yet not as frigid as his heart had become.
He had been desperate; he had vowed to make her his. He would not give up without a fight-he couldn't!
She had wrapped him around her finger, trained him to answer her every call. He would have given her his life if she would have asked for it!
And oh, the deception! How she had humiliated him in front of the eyes of many by ripping off his mask and stripping him of the last shred of dignity that he had maintained, when not moments prior she had been singing a song of passion and romance to him, and he was certain that it had been meant for him alone. How treacherous she was to give him hope, only to violently tear it away from him!
He would not let it happen again, if it took his final dying breath to prevent it!
The night had proven to resemble the night in which Christine had allowed her curiosity to trace the edge of his mask, and he would not be so naive as to let it continue. Though Estella had only sorted through the papers on his desk, he would not let her test his patience another time.
And yet, though he was not making the same mistakes over again, he felt that he was making entirely new ones. He was entering into a territory that was both foreign and unwanted. He had wed himself to a woman whom he hardly knew, only to find out that she was yet another person who would betray his trust and held a fear for him that would haunt him in his dreams.
He could not forget the look of terror in her eyes right before she had looked away from him. Of course he would frighten her; how could he think otherwise? How could he ever think that someone would treat him as if he was a man?
The music came to an abrupt halt and he propped his elbows atop of the instrument and buried his head in his hands.
How much less of a man he felt as the tears began to flow.
Moments earlier, Estella had stopped after leaving his bedroom in order to catch her breath, and though she was only few feet away from it, she had hid herself well behind a nearby decorative column. If he was to follow her, then she most certainly was allowing him enough time to find her again, much to her terrified realization.
But a part of her felt that he would not, and with shaking hands, she attempted to assure herself that she was safe, though she would not feel it until she reached her room and had locked the door.
Before she had left, however; the sound of music startled her. Though faint, she strained her ears to hear that it was eminating from the room that she had just left, and she remained behind the safety of the column to listen.
At first it was hesitant and strange, but even to the untrained ear it had an air of superiority to it. But then she was taken aback by the beauty of it as it grew louder and more confident. It was as if something had been awakened inside of that room, and she knew that she could not turn away at that moment.
She had neither heard nor felt another person's pain before, but it made the tears trail down her face. She could feel everything that he was thinking and remembering, and the fear that she had held for him only moments ago had now dissipated.
She was not certain how long she sat on the floor with her knees to her chest and her back to the cold marble of the wall beside her. How pathetic and odd she must have looked if found sitting beside his bedroom door, yet she could not force herself to leave. She could not leave him.
The notes spoke of suffering and even as she drifted to sleep she could hear them mourning, pining after something unattainable and beautiful. Her eyes slowly closed and their sound haunted her as she gave herself to the sleep that overtook her, assuring her that its company would take away the pain of that night. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she could forget the mistakes that she had made.
But she would never forget his music.