***NOTE: This is NOT the final chapter. There will be an epilogue to come.****
I have received a few complaints about what's going on in the story, or about Estella's behavior. First of all, I would like to say that I want to write something believable, and if after being raped, Estella could easily move on, it would not be. Especially living back then, can you blame her for not wanting to discuss it, and withdrawing out of fear? Secondly, I like to build up my stories to a climax. If I simply gave readers what they want immediately, then they would lose interest.
And now, a longer chapter awaits you, that will hopefully please you.
Ch. 35
He had accomplished it-he would let her go. No longer would she be his prisoner.
If one were to judge him based upon his history, it would certainly have been a shock for Erik to release Christine Daae from his tightened grasp, let alone that he would do it again with another woman. After all, abducting the opera singer and threatening everyone else had not exactly portrayed someone who would allow free will.
Was he not the monster that he knew himself to be? Did he not have the strongest urge to keep Estella locked away in his abode out of a selfish desire to have what was his, when the world had denied him everything thus far? He could easily make certain that she never step foot outside, and yet here he was providing a different residence for her. He would never see or speak to her again.
Perhaps he might bring himself to stare outside of his window with the aid of a drink, temporarily dulling the pain in his heart, but he knew that nothing more would come of his life. How could he ever set his fingers to another instrument or design again, when he now knew, without a doubt, that he did not belong among the living?
A week ago, he had created the scheme of feigning his death in order to set Estella free from him in every way. Even if she knew that he was alive, at least she could do as she pleased and perhaps even find someone to marry one day, after all; it was not difficult to see that she was beautiful and her wealth would certainly attract someone.
He would create some elaborate story about the infamous Architect, Mr. Destler, dying in a tragic accident during one of his most marvelous accomplishments. That would be dignified, would it not be?
A hideous beast deserves no such honorable end! he had shouted in his mind. A pathetic scrap-of-a-man with no one to mourn his death did not even deserve a proper burial!
The longer that he thought about it, the more that he longed for it to be true. Of what use was his life, now, anyway? He would no longer be able to design, unless he relocated elsewhere and took on a different name, but how would he ever be able to build a relationship with a business partner with his masked face, again? Of course he always had his money, which had worked the first time, but where it had gotten him could not be endured another time.
Estella had given him hope-a hope that he could find peace, at last; that he was both understood and desired by someone else. And to think that it had all cultivated from starting a new life and establishing himself as a well-known and successful businessman, for had he not partnered with her uncle he would never have met her!
What would he be doing, now, if not for that? He imagined that he would still have been successful, wealthy, and maybe even enjoying life, on occasion. But instead, he was now broken beyond repair, and the life that he had worked so hard to build for himself was destroyed.
Could he not be spared a mere fragment of happiness?
He emptied the remaining contents of his glass and closed his eyes briefly, willing the numbness to take over him, though it never came. He would need to drink much more in order to not feel the pain, and so he poured himself another glass. He stared at the amber liquid, consumed by thought.
Has his life come to this-that he must drink every waking minute in order not to feel the agony? His mind would waste away; his body would wither. And then would come death, peace...no more would he have to feel anything. Why not sooner? Why wait for the inevitable? He knew that he would not last much longer on his own.
And then he noticed her, standing only few feet away from him with eyes staring intently at him. Was there a look of concern in them?
He would have reprimanded her for entering his room without warning, but he noticed that the door had been left open. Why should he care, anyway? He wanted to care about nothing, and so he turned away from her and brought the glass to his lips.
"Sir, if I could have a word with you," she said softly.
He noticed her fiery-red hair; how befitting it was to her personality, for was she so bold that she did not fear the monster before her, that she had taken liberties to seek him out in his solitude?
"There is something very important that I must tell you."
Important? He nearly sneered. Nothing was important, anymore. Nothing mattered in the world to him, not even his own life. The only person who could ever hold his interest and concern was probably preparing herself to leave him permanently, at that moment.
"It is regarding something that happened to Mrs. Destler..."
Immediately, Erik's attention was captured and he sat up straight. He set the glass down before he had taken another drink and looked at her with concern.
By the tone of her voice, he knew that all was not well, and he felt the dread build in the pit of his stomach.
Estella waited in the hallway beside the doorway to the foyer, feeling more nervous than ever before. Exactly what would Marguerite say to Erik, and how would he respond?
The second half of her silent question was answered when she heard the pandemonium upstairs; a door slammed, loud and hurried footsteps could be heard coming closer to the stairway that would lead him to her.
"Prepare a carriage at once!" Erik roared to the scrambling Butler, who had just received his call.
Though frightened, Estella was determined to stand her ground, though she eyed the front door that was few feet away from her. At least she would have a means of escape, or perhaps Erik had ordered the carriage for her already, and was now determined to send her away?
She did not know what to expect, but when she saw him descending the stairs straight ahead of her, she had never seen such fierceness. It was only mere moments until he was already close enough to her that she was certain he would pass her.
She boldly stepped out into the middle of the hallway with a hand slightly raised, as if it would stop him.
"Wait, Erik!" she pleaded.
He paused for a moment in front of her but seemed determined to leave, anyway. She attempted to block his path for as long as she thought she could without bringing harm to herself. Though he had never hurt her in the past, she was not certain what his temper would hold, now.
"If you are to send me away, then-"
"This hour will be the last that he ever lives to see!" he growled, ignoring her protest altogether.
His fists were tightened at his sides, his jaw tense, and his eyes burned with a fury that Estella had never thought possible. While she had seen him upset a few occasions before, those times could never compare to this.
"I will end his life even quicker than what he has done to mine!"
Estella dared to place her hand gently on his chest, wishing that there was some way that she could calm him down.
"Please, do not leave," she said. "Think about what it is that you are doing!"
Erik could not bring himself to look at her; he could only set his gaze about the door and sidestep her.
"I know precisely what I will do!" he replied as he stormed closer to the outside world and away from her. "You have yet to see what the Opera Ghost can do, for he has returned! You do not know what I am capable of!"
Estella scrambled towards the door and reached it just as he had placed his hand on the knob; she spread her arms out, with her back against it, shielding it from him.
"I cannot allow you to leave!" she yelled, the tears now blurring her vision.
Estella knew that he would never forgive her, and even wished that he had never been told. At least if she had simply obeyed his orders for her to leave for the villa, she would not have caused him so much pain and anguish, and she would not be worried for his safety. After all, if he were to commit this crime, she was certain that she would never see him again.
"I am so sorry..." she mumbled, swallowing the tears that had not yet escaped. "Do you...do you wish for me to leave?"
Erik closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, for he did not wish to use physical force on her. If he did not at least attempt to calm his nerves, then he was certain that he would cast her aside and exit the estate, no matter the consequences.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked bitterly.
"No, but..." she sighed. "You deserve better."
"What?" Erik's head snapped up and he opened his eyes to look at her. She could see the fragment of pain that had clouded them.
"You deserve a wife who is pure and innocent...not one that has been soiled and used!"
He drew closer to her, and the anger began to subside. Though his eyes still held the intense emotion of agony, he had a gentleness about his demeanor that had not been there, before.
"Do not ever say that again," he said firmly, inches away from her face.
Estella's eyes traveled down to his parted lips, and she mentally reprimanded herself for thinking of such a foolish action. Why on earth would he want to kiss her ever again, anyway?
Erik noticed the way that she looked at him, but all he could think about was murder. He could not erase the pain that he saw in her warm brown eyes, and to think that she had suffered so much, how someone could harm such a beautiful woman, refueled his hatred for the man who would die by his hands.
"I will ask you once; move aside," he muttered in a dangerous and low tone.
Estella shook her head. "I will not! You will have to move me, yourself!"
"Curse you, woman!" he shouted.
His temper had reached its boiling point, and he turned away from her just in time to hit the wall with his fist. He did not care that he had even cut his knuckles and that they had begun to bleed a little. Instead, he sunk to the floor and buried his head in his hands.
The beautiful, sweet, and innocent woman whom he loved had been violated so cruelly, and he had not been around to save her from it. His lovely, wonderful wife has had to bear the pain and carry her suffering with her, never to smile or to grace him with her presence during the past half-year. Oh, how his heart had been ripped to shreds!
"I should have protected you..." he admitted with shame, the pain saturating his voice. "I should never have left!"
What a terrible husband he was, that he could not protect his own wife! He was to blame for her suffering, and he would never forgive himself for it!
Estella was both touched and hurt to see his concern, and she slowly bent down next to him and hesitated to place a hand on his shoulder.
"Erik, it is my fault..." she said. "I never told you that I saw him at the Masquerade. I was in such a shock that I just wanted to forget it. I am sorry."
Erik lifted his head slightly and she could see the tears that he had shed.
"It is not your fault," he countered. "Do not ever think it."
He reached his hand up to cup her cheek; a gesture that felt so warm and comforting to the both of them.
It is not your fault. He had said precisely what she wanted to hear, and somehow, it felt as if a burden had been lifted from her.
"Please, leave him be! Stay here, with me, and let us forget..." she placed her hand on his in an attempt to convince him to stay.
"I cannot allow him to live any longer, Estella. He does not deserve it."
"But you might be arrested, or...or perhaps worse!" she feared.
"I will take whatever punishment I will receive, if I am caught," he replied, determined. He pulled his hand away from her, suddenly reminded that the carriage was probably awaiting him on the other side of the door.
Estella touched his chest and allowed her hand to travel up to his cheek.
"I do not know what I would do if something happened to you..." she breathed, tracing his jawline affectionately. Now that she knew he would not hold it against her or treat her terribly because of what had happened, she could not contain her affections for him. It had been too long since she had enjoyed his company, and she could never fear him as she did Samuel.
Erik's heart fluttered in his chest, and he momentarily forgot about leaving her side, instead; he savored the sensation of her fingertips on his good cheek and allowed the warmth to spread through his chest from her words. She did not want anything to happen to him! He mattered to her!
He now knew that he would never be able to survive without her; that he could never forget the warmth of her touch. As long his heart would beat, he could not cease in wanting her for himself. He would never be able to quiet the desire to have her in his arms, for as long as he lived.
Her other hand began to touch the exposed and flawless skin beneath his mask, and he closed his eyes. He had never been touched like this, and it seemed as if all of his anger had dissipated, as if she had drawn it out from him with her fingers. They began to trace the outline of his mask, but he did not give thought to it. How long he had yearned for this, how many months he had waited for her!
"May I?"
It was barely above a whisper. He could feel her staring at him, at his mask, though he dared not to open his eyes, just yet. How could he ever say 'no', when she brushed his skin ever-so-gently? How could he refuse his wife, the woman who had made him feel whole? He was certain that, in this moment, he could not deny her anything-he would give her a palace, capture the stars for her, or even die for her, if she asked it of him.
Estella watched for any change of emotion on his face, afraid that he would lash out at her for asking. How badly he wanted to, but he did not wish to part with her touch, just yet. No matter how the voice of reason and logic screamed inside of his head, no matter how angry and fearful he became, he could not find the words within himself to tell her not to. He wanted to desperately cling to the last moment that he had with her, before she would no longer be his.
How strongly he wanted to unleash his fury upon her! Had she deceived him into this, knowing that he could not deny her? With a voice as sweet as an angel's, so soothing to his ears, was she truly a demon in disguise? Was she no better than Christine, and he was now to be exposed as the monster that he was? Was he now to ruin any chance that he had with her?
His eyes shot open as the fear overtook him-he had to wake himself from this dream which would soon turn into a nightmare-but it was too late; Estella had gently lifted the mask from his face only seconds earlier, for she had not seen any sign of protest, until now.
Her eyes traced over the deformity, and she felt her heart grow still in her chest. How awful it looked! Red, swollen, and very irritated, it hardly resembled a face at all.
In that moment, she now understood his fears-fear of being rejected, of being shamed, and of abandonment. She remembered how he had once told her that his face had been exposed to an audience by the woman whom he loved, and she felt pain for him. How could anyone do such a thing to this man?
He was the most remarkable man whom she had ever met; not only had he proven himself very talented and a genius, but he was passionate, kind, and he made her feel safe. He never deserved any of the pain that he had endured, regardless of how his face looked!
How handsome he would have been, if not for this side of his face! She was certain that, by now, he would have been happily married and with a family, for he could have had any choice in a marriage mate if his appearance had been untouched by the hand of disfigurement.
Though he might have viewed himself as a monster, he was far from it. A gentle, compassionate man who had saved her from her terrible fate when he did not even know her could not be considered such an awful thing. Samuel was the true monster!
She began to cry. She could not prevent it; she now bore the burden of his pain. How unfair it was that the greatest man whom she had ever known was denied happiness because of something that he could not help! How angry she was that the world could be so cruel to the man whom she loved! Yes, it would certainly take getting accustomed to, but if anything, the fact that he had shown himself to her-that he had trusted her enough to be made vulnerable to her, alone-only made her love him more.
Erik felt his heart sink when he saw her tears, and it felt as if a knife had pierced through his chest. Please, do not cry, he wanted to say, but he could not find the words. Of course he should have known that he would frighten her to tears.
He snatched the mask from the floor, but before he could replace it, she kissed him.
"I do not want your pity!" he growled as he pulled away from her. Was this not what Christine had done to him, when she had been trembling with fear?
"It is not pity, Erik..." she said. She placed her hand on his marred cheek, and he looked at her in shock.
He had only been touched there once before, and the sensation felt too good to pull away from. But what could have been her motives? He was not threatening her, there was no lover's life in danger...
"Thank you for showing me...I am now even more in love with you than I was before..." she murmured.
"What?" he choked out, staring at her in disbelief. Surely his ears had deceived him!
Estella smiled at him with no hint of cruelty on her features. She kissed him again, and he responded with fervor, tangling his fingers in her hair. She tasted so sweet that he could not pull away from her until he was nearly out of breath.
"Say it again," he breathed on her lips, desperate to determine that it was not his imagination that had tricked him.
"I love you, Erik."
He crushed his lips to hers and pulled her close to him, never wanting to let go.
"Please, do not toy with me..." he begged in-between kisses. "Do not mislead me; I could not bear it!"
She pulled away slightly and smirked.
"I mean every word of it," she added.
Fresh tears stung his eyes, for she had spoken the words that he had wished to hear all of his life. She loved him! He, a monster who had been exiled from the world and repulsed those who saw him! He, the one whom his own mother could not love!
His dear, beautiful wife loved him, and even while looking upon his monstrosity and even placing light kisses upon his disfigured cheek as he allowed her words to sink in! A genuine smile formed on his lips, for he was ecstatic! How his heart was elated to know that he would no longer spend his days on earth alone and miserable! He would once again have the company of his wife, but now she loved him!
"I have loved you since the first moment in which I laid eyes on you," he confessed. "My beautiful Pariah."
As mentioned, this is not the final chapter, but this story is coming to a close. If I were to heavily edit my stories and turn them into e-books, does anyone think that I could be successful in selling a few for a few dollars? Just wondering if I have potential to self-publish, because I do take a lot of time to write. Let me know what you think.