Weeping Angels
Hello All,
A quick message before the chapter starts. I know I've been awfully slow about updating and that is entirely my fault, but as you may know or not know, I attend the University of Alabama (We made worldwide trends on Twitter, ABC News and the Huffington Post). On Sunday the 20th, we received an anonymous YouTube comment that threatened gun violence upon the student body - specifically the sororities and fraternities. Sorority row was put on lock down and even the all girls dormitory was also put on lock down. The next day, another threat was sent out, but it was raised to a bomb threat. Many students were too scared to leave their dorms and many students began leaving campus to go home for the week and weekend. Classes were cancelled and/or made optional for those who were too frightened to leave their residence halls. I did eventually fly out that Friday to Florida where my parents live and I did spend the weekend. I just got back to campus around midnight last night.
It was very tense last week and even now, people are still on edge. The UAPD is still working with the FBI to investigate the case of gun and bomb threats. They have arrested numerous people who had government affiliation, but no one person has been caught or identified as the original source of the YouTube comment.
I am very sorry for the lag on updating. I am working hard to get my life back together as last week did give me two or three panic attacks. It heightened my anxiety quite a bit, but I did manage to write some as well. I hope you can understand why the reasoning as to why I have been so slow at updating. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. I still love you guys and I hope you still love me.
Stay safe,
A
In her mind, she imagined something dark and cold, the sound of something dripping constantly echoing in the background. She pictured mist surrounding her and the feeling that she was being followed, but the lair that the composer had beneath his house was nothing like what she had painted in her head. Sure, it had black leather furniture and deep red carpeting, but it was well lit and it smelled like apple pie. There was something regal about it, really. The organ was majestic and the fact that Erik had made it by hand, made the hairs on Christine's arm stand straight up in pure excitement. The most exhilarating part though, was the lake. Who knew there was a lake beneath his mansion? Erik warned her never to venture into the ice cold water, though. It was simply for show, nothing more and nothing less. Christine thoroughly enjoyed the theatricality of Erik's lair, as did the composer himself.
"Meg is going to start wondering where I am, you know... If you keep hiding me under here." Christine's petite voice beckoned from behind the composer as he sat at his piano bench, in a completely different room from the organ.
"Then let her mind wonder." Erik leaned over towards the sheets of music, grabbing the pencil from behind his ear as he began to mark up the paper.
"How many rooms do you have down here, anyway?" Erik paused as he met eyes with the curious dancer. "You could just live down here! You won't have to worry about anyone bothering you."
"Though your suggestion is kind, it is awfully nice to see the light of day every so often." The composer smiled softly towards Christine as he felt the ivory keys beneath him, inhaling the sweet scent of cinnamon wafting around him. "I have five rooms down here. This room, which is used for my piano and violin. I have a room for recording, which is equipped with a fifty piece orchestra, and a room for my organ. A bedroom, if I'm working late and need time to rest, and a bathroom."
"Do you sleep here very often?" Erik shrugged his shoulders, trying to play out the next few notes of his symphony. "It seems lonely down here... Is it very lonely?" The masked man let out a heavy breath as he turned towards Christine. His mismatched eyes looked weary, tiresome.
"Is it lonely inside your head, Christine?" The curly headed dancer tilted her head in pure confusion. "Do you get lonely when you're left alone with your own thoughts?" Erik stood to his feet in one swift motion. With a flick of his wrist, Christine joined him. She was simply mystified at the power he had over her. "If I left you in a room, with all your thoughts personified, would you be lonely?"
"I... I don't understand." Christine furrowed eyebrows inward in pure frustration. Erik only let out a truncated laugh in response - a dark, melodic laugh that emanated from his chest, that chilled Christine down to her bones.
"Even when I was a teacher, Christine, I thought in terms of notes and bars - in cadences and crescendos. Your English class was structured around the foundation of a melody I once heard in my head. I quoted Aristotle in my teacher's description box, only because I believe that the English language cannot be taught if your heart is not fully immersed into the art." Erik smiled again, walking closer to Christine. "Music doesn't make me lonely, being surrounded by music doesn't make me lonely. I live and breathe music, just as you live and breathe air. What makes me lonely is the thought of living without music... The thought of living without you."
"What?... What did you say?" Christine's eyes trailed up Erik's chest, which was much closer to her than when he started his little speech. His mismatch eyes were relentless upon hers as he blinked slowly, the porcelain of his masks shining against the bright lights above them.
"You, I can't live without you," Erik's hand found Christine's collar bone as he traced the smooth skin with the pad of his thumb. As his hand trailed upward toward her lips, Christine let out a quiet sigh, her eyes slowly closing, inhaling the mixing scents of cinnamon and cologne. "Do you understand now?" Erik's colossal hands encompassed Christine's tiny face as he leaned down to kiss her, joining them in a tender moment.
"Yes." Christine looked up at the masked man, who was now pressed up against her chest. Erik's hand rapidly fell to the small of her back as she tilted onto her heels in reaction to Erik lightly pushed her body backwards with the force of his own. "Why underground though? Can't you make music above ground? I'm sure it would be just as good."
"That's where you're wrong, Christine." Erik grinned from ear to ear, moving a stray chocolate-colored curl behind the dancer's ear. "Erik can't work with all those distractions, those above ground distractions."
"Why are you-"
"Erik can't afford to be bombarded with earthly matters while he's creating symphonies and celestial melodies, beneath the very ground his Christine dances on, yes?" Erik's toned had increasingly changed, growing deeper in timbre. As the back of his fingers brushed Christine's cheek with the touch only an Angel could have, Christine took in a sharp breath as the composer brought her tiny frame closer to him.
"Yes... But, Erik... Why..." Christine could barely finish her sentences, she was so entranced by Erik's voice and the surroundings of Erik's lair that he called his Musical Sanctuary. It was quite different from the one at the university, it wasn't like the one at the college at all. "Why are you talking in third person?" Erik crooned his head to the side with a quick reflex, smiling ever-so-softly to Christine, as innocently as a newborn child.
"I'm not talking in third person?" Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, Erik moved back towards his piano and took his seat once more, leaving Christine empty and entirely confused. "I'm just saying that it's much harder for me to work upstairs with all those distractions going on around me, than it is down here. The only distraction down here is the overwhelming stench of apple pie. Do you smell it, kitten?" Christine tensed at her nickname.
"I think it smells good. It's better than it smelling like a sewer down here or that dirty lake water." Christine leaned against the black leather couch, her eyes wandering towards the grandiose chandelier above her. "Erik..."
"Hmmm..." The composer kept his eyes focused on the piece in front of him as he listened intently on the small voice echoing beside him.
"The chandelier... It's crystal, right?" Erik absent-mindedly nodded his head as he tried to figure out the next six beats of the measure. "Chandeliers... Do chandeliers... Chandeliers..." Christine sighed in frustration as she gazed upon the shimmering hanging centerpiece. "Chandeliers..."
"What about the chandelier, kitten?" Erik had sat up straight to look upon Christine, averting his gaze up and towards the chandelier in unison with the curious student. "Is it too bright? Do you want me to dim it down for you?"
"No, no. It's fine, really. I just thought that..." Christine lowered her eyes to meet the composer's, the green pupils falling onto the porcelain mask with great sadness. "I just thought you would be terrified to be anywhere near a chandelier."
Christine wasn't sure if she was supposed to be frightened or proud. Erik stood to his feet, his expression completely stoic. The composer exhaled, removing his mask languidly. Christine grew more and more anxious as she looked upon the lacerated cheek and the exposed skull. Erik kept his prosthetic nose on, not wanting to bother with the details. As the composer removed himself from the piano and its bench, Christine followed him intently as he moved directly underneath the crystal chandelier. Taking a deep breath in, Erik closed his eyes and moved his face directly into the light that shone through the chandelier, remaining silent. The towering man looked almost heavenly with the lights cascading down and around him as he soaked in the gleaming crystals. With a final breath, Erik opened his eyes to meet a mismatched gaze with his former student. Christine practically stumbled backwards and lost all the air in her lungs at that moment. Who knew a man such as he could have such a magnificent power over someone without uttering a word?
"We all must face our fears, Ms. Daaé. It is just a matter of whether or not we are brave enough to brace them."
Christine's eyes shot open, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to gasp for air. The lamp was on and Erik was beside her, his eyes filled with worry and fear as he grabbed onto her shoulders. His hands were literally sticking to her skin as the sweat that accumulated on her body pooled beneath his firm grasp. She had been dreaming when he violently shook her awake, trying to rid her of the nightmare she was experiencing. Christine was kicking Erik in her sleep, screaming, and crying out for help. Erik had never seen her in such a state. Erik had never thought that someone as bubbly as Christine, could be plagued with such horrid dreams. Nonetheless, Erik was a light sleeper and was awakened within the first few kicks that he received in his right calf. He couldn't possibly fall asleep after that, no, not while Christine was in pain. He was never able to fall asleep at night knowing that she was in pain.
"Christine, Christine! You have to wake up, it's just a nightmare, just a nightmare..." Erik's unmasked face tried his hardest to awaken the deeply lethargic Christine, but nothing had seemed to be working. "Christine! Please, wake up for me, kitten! You're having a nightmare! No one is out to get you! No one, I'm here!" Erik lightly shook Christine's tiny frame, trying to not hurt the small dancer.
"HELP! HE'S AFTER ME! HE'S THERE!" Christine let out a shrill scream, while she unconsciously pounded on Erik's chest as hard as she could. "HELP!" Again, Erik gently pried her eyes opened, but the glossed over green pupils failed him once more. Tapping her cheeks, Erik thought to himself for a moment. He was running out of the more tender of options.
"Christine, please! Wake up, kitten. It's just a nightmare! Just a nightmare!" On his final attempt to lure Christine gently out of her tumultuous slumber, Erik sighed heavily at his last option. With a regretful huff, the composer grabbed Christine tightly by the shoulders and in one swift motion, jerked her forward with such force, her body was flung over his shoulder and into his tight embrace. "CHRISTINE, WAKE UP NOW!" Erik's voice bellowed throughout the thin walls of Christine's apartment, shaking the hanging paintings and scaring André halfway out of his fur. It's a good thing cats always land on their feet.
"E-Erik...?" Christine, a snail's pace, pulled herself away from Erik's chest, the mess of curls falling across her forehead. Taking deep breaths to try and level out her breathing, Christine glanced around the room. "Dreaming... Dream... That was a dream..." Christine mumbled as she reached out to hesitantly touch Erik's cheek. "You're real... This is real. I'm awake."
"Yes, Christine. I am real. I am Erik, your Erik." The composer brought Christine's hand to his swollen lips, placing a feather kiss on her trembling knuckles. Christine remained in a state of fright. "Kitten, you were screaming and kicking. I tried every gentle approach to awaken you, but finally I had to violently shake you and yell at you to awaken you." Christine closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the haunted images that plagued her mind. "Kitten, what were you dreaming of that caused you so much damage? What happened in your nightmare?"
"I... I was..." Christine fell silent as she sat across from Erik. Suddenly, the nightmare began a faded memory, covered in fog. "All I remember was a cemetery..."
"A cemetery? Whose cemetery? Where was this cemetery?" Christine shrugged her shoulders. "Were you visiting someone's gravestone?"
"I... I think so..." Christine shook her hand, grasping the thick purple blanket beneath her - a gift Erik had given her a couple of weeks ago, because André had clawed the thread out of the last comforter. "There was a man there... He was calling out to me..."
"What did he look like, Christine?" Erik grabbed ahold of Christine's delicate hands, hoping to ease some of her apparent pain.
"Erik... I don't think..." The unmasked man squeezed her hands once again, trying to reassure her that she was completely safe. "Erik, I seriously don't think that-"
"Whatever you dreamt of, you can tell me. You're safe with me, kitten. You're always safe with me." Christine sighed once again, shutting her eyes tightly. Christine knew there was going to be one of two outcomes.
Either Erik was going to be silent, confused, and offended or Erik was going to be loud, angry, and yet again, offended. Christine sat across from the composer as her mind raced for an unsuspecting third option, but nothing was coming up that would have been viable. Erik remained patient as he waited on Christine to speak first. The horrid images just kept replaying in her head as Christine began to speak, hoping that Erik would understand indefinitely. There was no telling what Erik would do, only hoping and praying - even then, praying her hardest sometimes wasn't enough.
"Christine?" The composer's feathery voice snapped Christine out of her mind numbing trance as she looked up at him with saddened eyes.
'If only this was a dream,' Christine repeated in her head over and over again as she closed her eyes tightly. "You..."
"What? I don't understand, Christine-" Nor will you ever. Christine sighed and finally decided that she had to listen to Erik's voice that was screaming at her in the back of her mind. He was right, like he always is. The dancer took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Facing her fears, Christine met the composer's mismatched eyes with an extremely tight stomach and unnerving feeling in her heart, just praying that it would be over soon - no matter however that may be.
"The man that was chasing me at the cemetery, was you."