Inside My Mind
Please read my new updated bio.
Two Months Later
Christine groaned loudly as she trudged over to the door of her apartment, half asleep. March was unkind to her and all she wanted was a good night's sleep. Propping herself up on her tip toes with grace only a ballerina would have, she only saw a tall figure, clad in black. Fearfully, the five foot three dancer rubbed her eyes and stepped away from the door.
"W-Who is it?" Christine looked around the room for something that could be used as a weapon if need be. All she laid eyes on was André, stretched out on the coffee table.
"Open your door, Christine. We need to talk." The curly headed girl flinched at the deep voice. It was vaguely familiar. "Now." As the bellowing voice echoed through the door once more, Christine crept towards the door.
"No! Tell me who you are first!" Christine shouted back at the stranger. Pressing her ear against the door, she could hear an airy laugh escape the stranger's mouth, his airy laugh. She could recognize it anywhere, at any time. "Professor L-Lantier...?"
"Open the door, Christine." His voice was at a softer timbre as Christine's eyes widened with shock. Her heart raced at an unfathomable pace as she placed her tiny hand on the lock, turning it once. "Please." Grabbing the chain, Christine moved it to the side with shaky hands. In one movement, Christine opened the door, hoping that this was all a nightmare.
"Professor Lantier... W-What are y-you doing h-here?" Erik lifted his head to meet eyes with his former student, her green pupils wider than he had ever seen. He bore a new mask, black. "It's... It's... 3:58 in the morning... And I'm pretty sure you have a baby by now or something... And you're this big time composer - at least, that's what the headlines say. I don't read the headlines that often, they remind me of-"
Erik encased Christine's tiny frame in his arms, a feeling he missed dreadfully. In one swift motion, his lips were on hers in a rush of passion. Christine's arms flew to her sides, unsure if she was allowed to touch him. As their lips moved in sync just as if he had never left, Christine's hands fell onto Erik's chest. His heart was beating even faster than hers. The composer closed the door with his foot, not ever wanting to part lips with Christine, not even for air. As they stumbled back into her apartment, Christine finally realized what she was doing, what was happening. The pain she felt surging through her body as she pulled her lips from his was indescribable.
"E-Erik..." Christine stood with her back against the pillar in her apartment. André had taken notice that there was a guest. "What... What... What are you doing here?" Christine was out of breath. Erik stood across from her, his towering build intimidating her down to the bone.
"You're no longer a college student, you dropped out, Christine. Why did you drop out of college?" Erik inched forwards towards the scared dancer.
"I didn't drop out, I just left... I'm doing online classes now." Erik's muscles relaxed as he let out the air from his lungs. "I couldn't take it going to classes everyday." Christine looked down at her toes, letting out a sigh of distress. "It was horrible without you there, you have to understand that, Erik."
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling in class, Christine?" Erik's voice broke as he whispered her name, it burnt his lips.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to quit teaching?" Christine's eyes met the composer's mismatched gaze. He was relentless. "Why didn't you tell me that the baby wasn't yours or that you moved to another house? Why didn't you tell me that you didn't love me anymore? Why did I have to find everything out for myself - why?" Christine was shouting now as hot tears streaked down her reddened cheeks. She was shaking. "Why didn't you tell me that you were going to leave me?"
The only audible sound was her broken, staggered breathing, interrupted by her weak attempts at holding back fierce tears. Her dark eyelashes glistened with pain as she shut her eyes tightly, avoiding any eye contact with the man in her living room. Erik remained silent as he stood and stared at Christine. He had absolutely nothing to say, nothing to excuse his abhorrent behavior in the last two months. It was true that he left her in the hospital after the doctor told him about Christine's real past. Erik blamed stress. He was overwhelmed with Bailey's pregnancy, too overwhelmed to the point that he left her as well. He needed isolation, a place where no one could find him, not even himself. Bailey asked too much of the masked man. To raise a child that wasn't his, it was a nebulous thought he never could wrap his mind around. Freedom was the key to Erik finding his sanity, composing was the gate which would lead him to a happier life. Yet, the masked man missed one very important item in the blur of the last two months as he tried to gain a happiness that seem far fetch. Erik was lacking the lock, to which the key would fit. The only thing that the gates of this said music could be inspired and opened by was Christine, his Christine.
"I was scared, Christine." Erik finally replied with a soft whisper.
"We all get scared sometimes, Erik. It's just a matter of: are we brave enough to face our fears?" Christine's glassy green pupils rose to see that Erik stepped closer to her. She couldn't help, but smile. "Why did you leave Bailey?"
"I was overwhelmed with the thought of raising a child that wasn't biologically mine. How do you know all of this, Christine?" The ballerina smiled widely.
"A girl can't tell all of her secrets." Erik gestured towards the large couch, hoping that the conversation would lead to some answers. Christine hesitantly followed.
"I was hoping that she would tell me at least some of them." Erik mused while Christine got comfortable on the couch. "Why did you lie to me, Christine?" Erik's voice had turned harsh, demanding. Christine flinched into the couch.
"I... I... I was frightened!" Erik narrowed his eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd love me, love a foster kid with no such past." Erik tilted his head. "I come from nowhere, Erik. I don't have parents or siblings. I don't even know my real name, Erik. I was afraid you weren't going to love someone like me."
"Don't be ridiculous-"
"I'm not being ridiculous! You're a composer, a teacher! You have twenty five degrees from seven different Ivy League universities and you even have your PhD. You're one of the most critically acclaimed and highly respected composers in the music industry, Erik. You've traveled the world and have worked for the fucking Shah of fucking Persia! You composed for The Shah!" Erik's expression was unreadable to the ballerina, but nonetheless, she continued.
"Your intelligence is immeasurable and your knowledge is infinite. I've never met anyone as smart as you. You're a genius, Erik. Your success is insurmountable and you're only thirty four years old. You have your whole life ahead of you, Erik..." Christine sighed as she glanced down at her hands with a weary gaze. "Erik... What would a man like yourself... Want to do with a girl like me? What would a prodigy composer and astronomical genius... Want with a girl who has no family, no history, and scars that are all deliberate?"
Erik didn't breathe another word. With the most gentle hands, he brought the back of his fingers to trembling her cheek, caressing them to ease with the touch of angel. Christine sighed as she nuzzled into the familiar hand she longed so deeply to feel for so long. Erik only wanted her to know that everything that had had happened between them was purely his fault. He never meant to hurt her. He never meant for anyone to hurt her.
"Christine, Christine..." Erik finally spoke, his voice soft. "Christine, can you look at me?" Her eyes fell upon the black mask. "Christine... You must forgive me, for all I've done."
"There's nothing to forg-"
"Christine, I've brought you so much pain. You don't deserve it, none of it." Christine glanced down at her hands. They were white, quivering. "Can you ever forgive me for leaving you, leaving you in that damned hospital?" Erik paused to look at André, who had now made a bed out of Erik's coat. "I'm never going to leave you ever again, Christine. I promise you."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Erik." The composer smiled widely. Christine was thoroughly confused. Erik leaned forward, placing a tender kiss to her nose, earning a reluctant giggle from the dancer. With a slow blink, Erik removed his mask and inhaled sharply when the cold air made contact with the marred cheek. Christine stared intently at the composer. She wanted to touch his cheek, but she was unsure as to if that was still appropriate. Slowly, Erik smiled again and brought her hand to his lips. They were cold against his warm and welcoming lips as he gently brushed against them in a feathery kiss. Christine was in ecstasy as her blood surged with passion, something she needed - something they both needed.
"I know for a fact that I intend on keeping this one."
Christine awoke the next morning to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes - a delicacy only prepared by the great composer. Wrapping the large purple blanket around her bare skin, she made her way to the kitchen, only to find Erik balancing a pan full of pancakes and blank pieces of sheet music.
"If you set my apartment on fire, you're paying for the damage." Christine muttered from the doorway.
"If I set your apartment on fire, you'll just have to live with me, Christine." Erik placed the pan of batter back down onto the stove, turning around to face Christine. "André likes pancake batter, by the way."
"I'm sure he does." Christine replied with a flat tone. "How does he know what pancake batter tastes like, by the way?"
"Some dripped onto the floor and he just so happened to be there when it happened." Erik shrugged his shoulders. "Don't you believe me?" Christine rolled her eyes, earning a more than childish pout from the very prestigious composer.
"Where are you living nowadays?" Christine took a seat across from Erik, looking down at the marked sheet music. It was like a jigsaw puzzle done in Italian and made in German. Christine sighed at its complexity.
"I have a house about twenty minutes from here. It's in a gated community, on the top of a hill. It has a fantastic view of the city." Christine nodded along at the verbal tour. "I would like you to come with me today, to my new home."
"I'm not sure that's a very good idea, Erik." The composer halted in his motions, his mismatched eyes bearing in Christine's soul. She was immediately uncomfortable and very aware that she was naked. "What?"
"What do you mean, 'I'm not sure it's a very good idea, Erik?' What does that mean?" Erik's unmasked face was relentless towards Christine. "Is there something wrong with Erik's house on a hill? Is it, because it's secluded or in a gated community? Does Christine not enjoy gated communities?"
"First of all, why are you talking in third person?" Erik tilted his head in confusion. "Second of all, I have no quarries against gated communities or houses that are secluded. I just didn't think you would want to move that quickly, I mean... You just came back to me... And I to you..."
"Was what we did last night, 'moving too quickly,' for you?" Christine rolled her eyes as she hopped off of the bar stool. "Christine, I don't understand why you don't want to come to my house. It's far away from-"
"Don't say her name!" Christine shouted at Erik. "Don't." Erik turned the stove off and slide the last two pancakes onto Christine's plate in silence. "I'm sorry, I just didn't think you wanted me there so soon..." Christine mumbled the last part of her sentence, inaudible to Erik's ears. Erik leaned over the counter, grabbing his music.
"Christine, I always want you here, beside me." With his music in one hand, Erik walked towards Christine. "I wrote you a song, Christine - another waltz."
"You wrote me a song?" Erik nodded. "When?"
"This morning, while you were still sleeping," Erik began. "I can only play it at my house though, where there is a piano." Christine raised her eyebrow.
"You wrote an entire waltz this morning?" Erik looked around, completely befuddled by her accusation. "How long is it?"
"With accompaniment, around six minutes, I assume." Christine's lips parted as her jaw clearly dropped to the floor. "What? Did I do something wrong? Why are you staring at me like that, Christine? I don't understand." Christine had never seen Erik's unmasked face so overwhelmed with oblivion and confusion.
"Erik, you're amazing. You're... You're..." Christine shrugged at the loss of words.
"I'm what?" Erik tilted his head. Grabbing the sheets of music from the composer, Christine looked down upon them with gleaming eyes. "Do you read music?" Christine scoffed at the thought.
"Not a chance, almighty maestro." Her eyes darted back and forth between the black inked pages, totally in awe of the flawless composition. "I'm just... I'm just so curious..." She muttered under her breath, handing the papers back to their owner. Erik smiled awkwardly as Christine took a step backwards. Taking up the pose of the, 'Thinking Man,' Christine narrowed her eyebrows in curiosity and placed her hand on her chin, examining every inch of the strange man in front of her - a man she could call her own.
"What are you curious about, if I may ask?" Christine smiled and looked up towards the top of Erik's head, where his dark hair lay awry. It was nice to see that even the great composer had bad hair days.
"I wonder what it would be like to spend a day inside that mind of yours." Erik immediately grinned, his mismatched eyes lighting up in glee. Out stretching a hand to the dancer, Erik nodded in a kind gesture as Christine placed her hand in his, only hoping that he would never let her go.
"Come with me and you might just find out, kitten."
Erik pulled up to the large white gate, locked with a golden insignia. Upon further inspection, Christine soon realized that on the insignia, were Erik's initials. Christine had never been to such a nice neighborhood. The trees all looked alike and the street was freshly paved. He was right. He did have a beautiful view of the city. Christine swallowed hard as Erik drove into the large semi-circle for a driveway. This was not a house. This was a mansion, a composer's mansion.
"I hope André likes my house." Christine nodded silently, overwhelmed by the grandiose marble pillars and footman waiting for Erik at the door.
"Y-Yeah..." Christine shakily exhaled as she exited the car. Walking to the front door, the elderly footman nodded politely, opening the oak doors, exposing one of the most beautiful sights Christine had ever seen. "T-Thank you, Darius." Christine's eyes wandered around the foyer, where a grand staircase that broke off into two separate directions awaited her. Carpeted with royal blue carpet, the staircase was by far the most regal thing Christine had ever gotten the pleasure of seeing.
"Right this way, kitten. I'll get you something to drink." Erik's voice crept behind Christine, causing her to be startled as she leapt back into his chest. His hands naturally found her hips as she took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of roses, the only scent she knew him by. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"Erik, this isn't a house. It's a fucking mansion!" Erik chuckled softly, the vibration of his throat tickling the back of her head. "How do you never get lost in this place?"
"Well, when you are always stuck in the music room composing for operas and such, you tend to get familiar with one location." Erik and Christine began to walk towards the left archway, which led to a sitting room. Simple black furniture dawned the room, along with a simple fireplace. A few art pieces fashioned the walls, while the green wallpaper gave it a lively touch.
"I would need a tracking device if I ever lived here." Erik made his way over to the bar in the corner, intently listening to the dancer go on about his home. "How could you afford such a nice house?"
"The industry I am in now, pays me well. For example, I'm composing a new opera. Once it's put into production, I'll be getting a percentage of the ticket sales. If it's popular and in high demand, that means I'll make more money. If it isn't, I still get paid comfortably for composing the opera. Let's say it is popular, I would get paid a percentage for each week it is put on, if they are performing an original opera I composed." Christine smiled softly, trying to seem as though she was paying attention.
"Where is your music room?" Christine pondered for a moment. Christine made her way over to the bar, peering over the counter, while Erik stirred her drink slowly.
"Underground, my dear. It's underneath the house." Christine raised an uneasy eyebrow. "By the way, since you're not 21, this is the only drink you're having today."
"What? I've never heard of such a thing. How would you even under there? Why is it underground? Don't you get claustrophobic down there? Do you have a problem with the normal level of ground, human ground?" Erik left out a small, airy laugh as he handed Christine the glass full of red liquid.
"It's a hardly-spiked Shirley Temple." Erik smiled widely behind the black mask. Christine tilted her head curiously. "I have no quarrels with the, 'human level of ground.' I just enjoy having a space where I won't be disturbed by Darius or anybody else when I compose." Erik shrugged his shoulders as he led the tiny dancer over to the couch.
"Doesn't it get lonely down there?" Christine took a sip of her drink, only to be thoroughly delighted by the taste.
"No, not really. When I'm in my music room, I'm in my own little world." Christine nodded once more, inhaling slowly.
"Would you ever let me into your music room, into your little world?" Gradually, a grin appeared on the masked man's face. Erik grabbed Christine's small hand in his and gently pulled her to her graceful feet. "Where are we going?"
"Oh, nowhere yet, my kitten." Erik leaned down as far as he could, nestling the uncovered side of his face into the crook of her neck. Humming softly, he pressed his warm lips against the hot flesh, earning a few uncontrollable moans. "First, you must do something for me..." Erik mused as he wrapped his arms tightly around her small waist.
"Anything." Christine managed to grasp a few hairs at the nape of his neck.
"You sure you're ready to make that promise?" The sound of Erik's vibrating voice sent chills down Christine's spine.
"I was ready to make that promise the first day of class, Professor Lantier." Erik pulled Christine closer to his body as he inhaled her scent of Shea butter and coconut. Separating himself from her, he connected gazes with his former student and realized that he should have never left the hospital to begin with, never. "Just tell me what you need me to do, Erik."
"Christine, you need to forgive me, please... Forgive me for leaving you in the hospital... I should have never left you and it's going to haunt me until the day I die, but forgiveness is the first step to recovery..." Christine nodded slowly as Erik moved a piece of stray curl behind her ear. "And Christine..." He began once more with an unreadable expression - the worst kind ever known to man. "I need you to let me inside your mind."