He gestured mechanically towards the Louis-Philippe room, and though perhaps a little mad myself at that point, I followed him. I knew better than to test him now.
"Did you notice these earlier?" He asked, his voice faint.
"Notice what?" I replied, equally weak.
I followed his hand, which pointed towards two ebony caskets upon the mantle of the fireplace.
"No, I didn't," I told him.
"One holds a scorpion, which you'll turn if you choose to marry me." He explained. "The other, a grasshopper, you may turn to kill everyone... Aren't they pretty? Both cleverly imitated in Japanese bronze... such pretty little gifts..."
"Which is which?" I asked, turning to him. Then I turned back, "Oh-!"
Both little caskets were now open, revealing their contents. I could choose which one to be buried in...
I placed my trembling hands, which were threatening to fall apart, upon the cold surface of the scorpion, but found myself unable to turn it.
"Do you promise...?" I asked pitifully, my eyes welling up. "That we'll live in a normal house?"
"Choose," he replied quietly, as if it was all he could manage.
Fear was ice in my veins; it froze my muscles, and my hands refused to turn that dreadful bronze creature. But if I chose, I could sleep... Perhaps he would leave me alone for a time... And he had said he would take me on walks in the park, surely he wouldn't keep me trapped down here for eternity?
I couldn't kill all those people... But I couldn't marry Erik... I couldn't do either!
My hands slipped from the surface, and I turned to Erik, my heart beating like a butterfly caught between a child's fingers. His eyes glowed once more.
"Oh?" He told me, his voice causing me to shudder. "You lied again, my Christine?"
I shook my head, my fingernails gripping the wallpaper behind my back.
"But you will not turn it," he said.
I found my back pressed up into the corner of the room, but I shook my head again, "I will, I will, I need to think-"
"You lied!" He cried. "Why do you enjoy tormenting me? Just because I'm ugly, my heart is worth nothing to you? Perhaps you think I do not have one?"
"You do, you do-"
"Of course I do! How can I love you without a heart?"
I collapsed into the corner, burying my head in my knees, "Please, leave me alone, let me decide alone, I'll turn it, please-"
"No!" He cried. "Why you deceitful little thing! You would turn the grasshopper before eleven o'clock tomorrow!"
"No, no-"
"That is why you want to be alone!... You promised to marry Erik, now turn the scorpion to seal it!"
I sobbed hysterically into my skirts, attempting to dissolve into the wall behind me. Erik's shadow went away from me, pacing silently, back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster, winding himself up like a toy to snap.
"Well?!" He cried, startling me.
I nodded, rising and finding myself suddenly in the same position as before, the scorpion beneath my hand.
Was there symbolism to this? Some mad symbolism? The scorpion... would sting me... But the grasshopper...? saute?
Oh, oh, saute! Hops or explodes! There was a bomb, some sort of bomb, that was how he would kill everyone, that was why! He had set up a bomb, of course, that was like him, to make a joke out of death...
Before I realized what I had done, the scorpion had turned, and a hideous hissing noise emerged from the torture chamber. I cried out in fear. Had he lied? Had he tricked me into murdering us both?
"You chose Erik..." he whispered. "You didn't choose to die..."
My head spun, my stomach churning with nausea. I could feel myself falling away, oh, please, let me faint away and escape all of this for a mere moment...
I realized the hissing noise was water before the world dissolved.
When I woke, I found myself in the center of the bed in the Louis-Philippe room. My limbs were not bound, but I could've moved more had they been.
How long had I been unconscious? That was when I glanced to the marble-topped nightstand beside the bed and found a piece of parchment with the childish red scrawl I dreaded upon it.
But I stared back up at the ceiling, watching how the flickering candle he had left for me danced upon it. I supposed I could set myself on fire at some point... only if absolutely necessary, though, for that was one of the worst ways to die, I had heard. Drowning was the most merciful, painless, though terrifying...
There was no possibility, however, that he would leave his wife unattended. Perhaps he would tire of me after a while? Like children with their toys? Then there was hope...
The door opened, and I pushed my back into the headboard, my heart still thudding from adrenaline. Erik had a silver tray with what appeared to be lunch on it, as well as a tiny cup-like vase filled with daisies. He set this beside me.
It surprised me that he was still masked.
"Do you want lunch, my wife?" He asked kindly.
"Fiancée," I replied, my voice weak.
"Fiancée," he whispered. "Do you not want to eat? You haven't eaten in almost a day now."
"I wonder why?" I mumbled, but he ignored this.
"My little fiancée is nervous for her wedding tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"In the morning..."
"Where?"
"Here."
Here?
"But..." I said, confused, "that doesn't make any sense. What about the Madeleine, or-?"
"You would run away, or scream..." He replied with a sigh, lightly caressing the petal of a daisy.
"I wouldn't."
He chuckled bitterly, "Eat your breakfast, my dear... Oh! Oh, one moment, I have a gift for you..."
Not another one... He dug his spindly fingers into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a silver ring set with a little, but finely cut sapphire.
"This one's prettier than the other, perhaps you won't lose it," he told me, placing it on my finger and caressing the jewel.
I pulled my hand away as if burned, and he sighed, going to the ajar door.
"I expect to see that you made an attempt to eat," he said, not needing a specific threat. His cold voice was enough.
The door shut quietly behind him as he left, and I pulled the tray onto my lap, exhaling through my mouth. Then I glanced down at the ring.
I removed it from my finger and placed it atop the nightstand, unable to bear its fragile weight. I ate as much as I could, though I didn't taste a morsel.
Where was Raoul? How was he? Was he concerned about his poor Christine, trapped beneath the opera house?
He was so fragile, not knowing about the difficulties of life, and even being clueless as to the world being more than black and white. I had introduced him to a far crueler world than he knew, one in which nothing was white, nor black. My world was gray, for no one was perfect, nor perfectly evil. I certainly was not this angel Erik worshiped, for I had hesitated to sacrifice myself for the wellbeing of perhaps a thousand people. And Erik was not evil, only the product of cruelty. Now Raoul had to experience losing a loved one; I was as good as dead down there.
My door opened, startling me into tipping over my vase of daisies. He righted it calmly.
"What type of wedding dress would you like?" He asked, seeming to be grinning beneath his mask. "Or will the evening gown do?"
"I don't want a wedding dress," I replied.
"Propriety forbids a woman wearing nought but a veil to walk down the aisle, my dear."
I kept my eyes in my lap.
"The evening gown, then," he said, unfazed. "And a veil, of course. Any preference?"
"Why do I need a gown and veil?" I demanded. "We're not going to the Madeleine."
"Why must you remind me?" He whimpered.
"I won't honor the marriage unless we're married in a church."
"But you would run away! You don't keep promises anymore, when you were so good before... You always came back when you promised, always..."
Something lit in his eyes, which sought out mine.
"We shall be married at the Madeleine," he told me, giddy. "Yes, we shall! Or else our lone wedding guest will require a requiem..."
"Wedding guest?" I asked, horrified as to what this could mean. "What wedding guest?"
"Guess!"
"I'm tired of guessing!" I pleaded, my eyes welling up and stinging. "Won't you please tell me, Erik? Why do you keep me in the dark and torment me?"
"In the dark? You're not in the dark, see? I left you a candle, how thoughtful of a husband I can be!"
"You know it's a metaphor."
He averted his eyes for a moment, then they met mine again, gleaming, "You want me to tell you who our wedding guest is?"
"Yes... please."
"But I thought you liked the little novels I bought you, the frivolous mysteries... Do you not want a little suspense? You want the ending revealed now?"
"Yes, now."
He sighed discontentedly, picking a speck of dust off my quilted blankets, "I want to make my wife happy, of course, even if she doesn't want to make me... Our guest is a dear friend of yours."
"The vicomte?"
"Hm..." he mocked. "Vicomte? Not, dear Raoul, darling Raoul?"
"What do you mean, wedding guest?"
"He shall remain in this house while we go to the Madeleine, and if your performance for the ceremony is not satisfactory, I'll show you how the torture chamber works. Our guest will, of course, assist me in this endeavor."
My hands trembled, "But you'll let him go? When I marry you at the church, you'll let him go?"
"Of course. Wouldn't you cry if I didn't? I don't like it when you cry..."
"Yes, I would, I would cry so much I would drown... W-where is he now?"
"In the communard dungeon..." He told me, now irritable. "I don't want to discuss our guest anymore."
"C-could you tell me about the house-?"
"Would you like a wedding mass?" He asked innocently.
"A wedding mass...? But you can't play it during the ceremony-"
"No, no, after, as a wedding gift. You'll have lots of wedding gifts, you know, so you can be comfortable as my wife."
"I... I think that's fine... But won't you have to compose it?"
"Only the end. I've finished the rest."
"When did you write it?"
He gave a noncommittal shrug.
"And what of the house?" I pressed again.
"I should finish the piece," he said, picking up my tray.
As he turned to leave, he spun around on his heels without warning to threaten, "If you try to kill yourself again we won't have a wedding guest tomorrow, nor a ceremony at the Madeleine. You promised to marry me."
I nodded weakly, and he left. I must have been asleep for quite a while if there had been enough time for him to find Raoul and capture him...
My tears forced their way out, and I promptly collapsed into a shuddering mess. I buried my head in my pillow to muffle my sobs, horrified that Erik could rush in upon hearing me and begin to weep as well.
"Raoul..." I whimpered. "Raoul..."
I had to trust Erik's word that he would be freed, and Erik's word was rarely more truthful than mine had been of late. Surely he would release Raoul for me... I could always plead for it as a wedding gift, if not...
Or...? Or had he...? But he couldn't have, no, no, he couldn't have! Why would he? Surely he was sensible enough not to... Erik? Sensible?
When he came in again, after a few hours of pounding out terrifying and awe-inspiring music, I stood up from the bed, crossing my arms.
"Why are you doing that?" Erik inquired.
"I want to see our guest..." I demanded. "Please."
"But we're too busy with wedding preparations for that. Are you hungry at all?"
"Of course not, I ate mere hours ago. What I want is for you to prove to me that our guest is safe."
He clucked his tongue, "Behave, my dear, it's a nuisance when you act like this."
I was quivering with indignity, "Why would you deny your wife such a small request?"
"My fiancée," he retorted venomously. "Would you like to go down to the communard's dungeon? Would you? Alone in the dark with Erik, doesn't that sound like fun?"
My hands wrapped up around my throat, and I shook my head.
"There." He said, triumphant. "I'm looking after my wife, see? What terrible husband I would be to take you down into the dark, how afraid you are of the dark, my poor Christine, that's why I left the candle. How well I know you, husbands should know their wives well, to anticipate their needs."
"I'm thirsty," I whispered, perhaps intending to mock him, but my voice was too weak.
"What for?"
"Water, just water..."
He left to get it for me, and I went into the bathroom. He had no mirrors in his room, but I had a single one in there. The edges were in metal woven like vines, with delicate leaves about this frame, all painted in pure white. I had cried during my captivity over it about how horrible it must have been for him to put it up, unable to avoid the ruin that was his face. Perhaps he had worn a mask...
Now I gazed upon my own features. I raised my hand to the purple and brown mark that bled over my forehead. There was still a bit of dried blood upon it, so I picked up a white towel with trembling hands, wet it, and pressed the cool surface to the brown flecks. My reflection stared back at me with wide eyes and a pale mouth.
Once my task was complete, I stumbled over to my bed, suddenly consumed by a cold chill that seemed inside my soul, expanding to my limbs like a disease. I collapsed upon my sheets and stared up at the ceiling, too exhausted to cry.
What was to become of me?