White. So much white. I was drowning in a foaming tempest. White silk, white lace, white flowers. My face was white. My hands were white.
I stabbed my scalp with pins as I pinned up the blonde curls. My nose was no longer the shape and hue of a plum, but it was still miserable-looking. I was miserable-looking.
Erik's voice came to my ears an inaudible echo. I found myself nodding, eating a morsel of breakfast, and following him into the boat. He wore his false nose and his best suit.
He was so happy it made me want to cry. He was ignoring how miserable I was, how terribly I was trembling, how I would never manage out even a 'yes' to the priest.
We could have walked to the Madeleine, but we took a brougham. No need to attract stares. No need to exert me. Out the window, people streamed by, oblivious. I pressed my hand against the glass, staring at my pale reflection through the veil.
"You're quiet," Erik remarked.
My lips moved, but nothing issued. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions... mine was supposed to be so happy...
"Too anxious to speak?" He asked.
I gave no sign I had heard. My hand had frozen to the window.
"You look beautiful. I wish..." His voice drifted off.
We were in silence until the brougham stopped. Erik assisted me out like a gentleman, but I was trembling so violently I worried my legs would give way beneath me. His hand was on my shoulder, nudging my feet forward.
I couldn't do this. My blood froze in sudden realization that I couldn't do this!
"Christine?" Erik asked.
I had stopped just before the two great doors, open to swallow me up. My breaths were soft and heavy.
"You promised," he warned.
I willed myself to continue. Each step was eternity as we neared the front, where the priest waited. The veil barely concealed my terror from him.
I was going to be Erik's... His wife... I couldn't escape, couldn't run, couldn't breathe.
"Do you take this man to be your husband?"
I heard these words, and these alone, although there had been some prior. Erik had evidently prepared. The priest saw nothing wrong in my state, and to assist with my unwillingness, I only had to say one simple word. Three letters. My tongue needed to form just three letters.
I thought of Raoul, thought of him possibly under the earth. That slight possibility made me stumble out a "yes," and the short wedding was complete.
No, no, not yet. Erik had to kiss me.
His eyes sought mine through the lace veil, and his fingers found the edge of it. He trembled ever so slightly as he lifted it up past my chin, over the tip of my nose...
I fainted before our eyes had met.
When I woke, I was in a brougham, my head resting in Erik's lap. I sat bolt upright, frightened as I took in my surroundings.
Married. I had been married. I wasn't my own.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, beginning to cry. "I didn't mean to faint, I didn't mean to be quiet, I couldn't think, I couldn't-"
"You think I'm upset?" He asked, bewildered. "Why would I be upset? You're my wife! I'm happier than I've ever been, even without the kiss, but... m-might I kiss you at home?"
"Home," I mouthed, nodding and sniffling.
"Oh, how wonderful you are! I've never been so happy in all my life, never even close! And you'll be happy, too, don't fret. It's alright that you're frightened now, because you don't understand how wonderful marriage will be for you. But you'll see!"
"I fainted..." I whispered, slow.
"You did, my poor little angel. But I caught you before you could fall to the floor, so you aren't injured at all. You don't need to cry, everything is perfectly alright now. I'm so happy I'll even let our guest go home once we return, before anything else!"
"Please, you don't have him... I-I know you don't."
He was torn. I could see it in his eyes, both sides of his mind warring against admitting it, or keeping up the lie.
"No, of course I do not have him," he conceded. "But you understand that I needed to say that or else you wouldn't have been behaved enough to marry me properly? The other option was terrible, I assure you, and I assume you're delighted that I don't have him... But no more mention of him, not under any name whatsoever. No thought of him, nothing. He doesn't exist."
I nodded. My throat was now choked with tears. I lowered my head back onto his lap, too exhausted to keep it upright. He exhaled in awe.
"W-would you allow...?" He whispered. "My sweet little Christine, c-could I touch your hair?"
I nodded. His knee was soaked through from my tears.
"Take out the pins, p-please," I asked. They were pushing into my skull.
He hesitated for a moment, perhaps stunned, before I felt one pin slide out of my curls, then another, and another, until they were all clutched in his hand. He stared down at them in awe, admiring the pearls on the tips. The brougham stopped.
I was paralyzed with fear. No, no, no, I didn't want to go down into the dark with him! He would have to drag me. I couldn't bear it! Oh, what if he never let me out again?
He slid the pins into his pocket and exited the brougham. Then he extended his hand for me to take, his thin lips tilted up at the edges.
"C-could we go on a walk?" I pleaded desperately.
"Now? You're not properly dressed-"
"Please, Erik, I can't go down there now, I can't-"
"You think I would shut you away down there for eternity? What silly fears you have, my dear, come along."
"I can't-"
"Take. My. Hand," he commanded in a voice that would not be defied.
I extended my trembling hand to his, and he assisted me out.
"I'm going to faint again," I whispered, my stomach writhing. "I am, I am."
"I'll catch you, my darling, don't fret."
He had to pull me through the gate, and it was then that I began to truly panic. I was stricken with all forms of terror- of violation, darkness, being trapped- that my mind had devolved into that of a small animal terrified of being eaten.
"Christine?" He asked in confusion. "My darling, why won't you move? Just a few steps to the boat is all. You needn't be afraid of anything, you know this."
I wish I did, how I wish I did!
"Couldn't we go outside?" I pleaded tearfully. "Only for a moment, on a walk-?"
"Maybe tomorrow, if you still want to."
"Could we take a brougham tonight through the Bois, like before-?"
"I've already said, 'no!'" Then he sighed, "Would you please get in the boat, or must I pick you up and place you inside?"
How I found the strength to step into that little vessel, I had no idea. I sat rigid at the prow as he pushed it off into the lake, setting himself down behind me and beginning to row.
I waited in silence as we glided across the lake, and he seemed to understand that I was in no state for reasoning, as he remained silent, too. My eyes remained on the opaque water rather than the two glowing orbs in front of me.
Erik kept glancing away from me, as if he saw something hidden in the darkness. I hadn't the energy to seek it out myself. Instead, I found myself drawn to the water. It almost beckoned me to it. I could reach out and touch it, just there below me, an infinite abyss of nothingness-
"Christine!" Erik cried, grabbing at my dress.
It tore as I tumbled into the water. The surface broke like ice against my skin, and I already regretted my decision as I clawed upwards. The fabric of the dress absorbed the water, dragging me down like a rock no matter how hard I tried to pull myself up for air. Arms encircled me, tearing off the dress, pulling me up for breath. I gasped, coughing and choking as I was dragged out of the water onto gravel.
Erik carried me into the living room and placed me directly in front of the fireplace, which was a roaring fire in an instant. He rushed about for blankets. I was shivering so violently that I had little say in anything, and I removed the rest of my underthings when he said, desperate for warmth. He preserved my modesty by immediately wrapping me in blankets, then he darted off again, to where I knew not. I was frozen to where I kneeled, huddled up against the cold deep within me.
Erik's footsteps approached me. I glanced over at him and realized he had changed clothes, and was as undressed as I had ever seen him, with only pants, stockings, his mask, and a white shirt. No vest, no jacket, only a white shirt that showed with unusual clarity the bones of his shoulders.
He sat down beside me, shivering as violently as I had been. His arms encircled me, and I clutched the blankets tighter, fearful of his anger at my actions. Who knew what he was capable of?
Instead, he simply held me.
"Why did you do that?" He asked once his teeth had ceased chattering together. "You promised you wouldn't kill yourself, you promised!... Can I not trust your promises?"
I nodded hastily, "You can, it was an accident-"
He pulled me tighter, restricting my breathing, "Don't lie to me. Don't ever lie to me again, do you hear me?"
I nodded, and he loosened his arms about me.
"It's hard to trust you now," he said softly. "I won't let you be alone until I can trust you not to kill yourself."
"W-what do you mean? Please, I was only frightened-"
"And you'll be frightened again!... But... I have to buy groceries, you know, and little gifts for you, flowers and such, at least once a week... What am I to do then?"
"I won't try again, I promise." My eyes were welling up. "I wasn't thinking-"
"Then how can you promise?..." His eyes widened at a thought he had experienced. "Oh, g**, Christine, my angel, I'd have to tie you up again if I ever needed to leave! I couldn't bear it, I won't, I can't... You wouldn't make me resort to that, would you? Surely you wouldn't."
"I won't, please, you can't do that-"
He began to cry, "Why must you be like this?! Why must you hate and fear me so?!" He clutched me tight to his bony chest as if afraid I would disappear. "I w-wanted... I wanted us to come home and... I wanted to play the wedding mass for you. It's such a lovely piece, all for you... And then we were going to have a nice little lunch, roasted chicken and potatoes, and the Merlot you like. And a lovely dessert, the cakes you adore, the little strawberry ones with creams... I always had those for you when you visited. You pretended to be happy when you visited... A-and now you're frightened and won't eat a thing!" He told me angrily, and I feared he might do some harm to me, but his grip remained gentle. "You would rather die than eat with me, wouldn't you?"
He gave a sob, crying into me. The poor man...
"A-and... Tell me, my wife, did you?... Did you only pretend to faint so... so I wouldn't k-kiss you?"
I shook my head, "No, no, I was frightened by it all, only frightened, not of the kiss, I was just so overwhelmed... I'll let you kiss me now... if you want."
His eyes widened behind his mask, "Are you in earnest?"
I shut my eyes and pushed out my forehead a bit towards him. I suppressed my shivers, thinking of being bound to a chair again, of Erik's unhappiness.
I felt his lips upon my forehead, lips thin as my veil that was sinking into the lake, and they departed from me in an instant. I didn't fear his kiss, only that, after a small taste of affection, he would want more.
But he was appeased, and cradled me against his chest again as he wept.
"You're such a g-good girl, my Christine," he whispered through tears, "so brave to let your poor Erik k-kiss you, and hold you... You won't be afraid a-after a little while of being my wife, you're t-too brave to be afraid for very long... My... my mother never kissed me, you know, not... not once... S-She always ran away from me, and threw me my mask, because she was so a-fraid... And you, even you are afraid of me, though you kissed me and can look upon me without fear... E-even you..."
My reply evaded me. I pitied and feared him, both at once, and I didn't know whether to console him or attempt to hide myself away.
"You're so small," he whispered.
"Please let me go."
He dropped me onto the carpet, as if he hadn't realized how close he had been to me. He stared down at me as I adjusted the blankets, my foot having come out of the side.
"N-no," he whispered before I could conceal it. "W-would you let me see?"
My voice was frail, "My foot?"
His demeanor was frightening me. His eyes were intent upon the white appendage sticking out from the quilted blankets. I had only ever seen him this focused when he played music.
I shivered, "I'm cold."
The frightening light in his eyes faded, "Forgive me, of course, I forgot... Do you want to hear the wedding mass now?"
"Couldn't I be dressed first?"
"Yes, of course, only... In your bathroom, you can dress in your bathroom, and I'll wait just outside."
"W-why must you-?"
"I told you before," he retorted, "don't make me say it again."
I bowed my head. Erik glanced back down at where my foot had been a moment before, then he sighed and rose.
"Do you not want to dress?" He asked. "You aren't making any move to do so."
"No, I will," the blankets slipped, but I caught them before any damage was done.
He followed me into the room, and proceeded to pick out a dress for me to wear. Once it was all set out upon the bed, he felt the fabric with his hand.
"I'm going to buy you so many lovely dresses," he sighed, running a finger along the lace and buttons. "And little shoes, and jewelry. And in the summer, a lace parasol for our walks through the park..."
"W-will we have one this Sunday-?"
He clenched his fist in the fabric, and replied with frustration, "No! We won't..."
"When will we?"
"Maybe in a month..."
"But you'll take me up to buy dresses and things at least... w-won't you?"
He shook his head, his eyes downcast and mournful, "We have to wait."
"Wait for what-?"
"There are many reasons, and one is your own foolishness!" He went to the corner and turned around. "Get dressed."
There wasn't much to do save trust him, which was an impossible feat.