Ch. 4— Fight and Flight
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"I didn't want to tell you, Erik, until the swelling had receded enough for me to be sure."
Erik turned his face away from the physician. "And you're certain?"
"Erik—"
"Nothing more can be done to fix my… deformity?"
"Remember, you are lucky to be alive, Allah be praised."
Erik's fists clenched. "Allah—God? You dare speak of God to me, Nadir?"
"It's not as bad—"
"Quiet!" Erik roared.
"Erik," the older physician cautioned, "The swelling is not gone, your burns and cuts are mending, but they are not healed. And as for the keloids… it's a luckless condition that causes such thickened scars to form, but I am certain they will lessen in time. The keloids may never disappear, but they will get better just as you will get better." The dark-skinned physician touched Erik's shoulder. "You must give yourself time."
Erik shrugged his hand away.
Nadir continued on undeterred, "The muscles on the right side of your face were severed at the nerve. That side will droop, pulling at your lower eyelid and lip. You'll notice it more when I remove the stitches. Your leg is mending nicely, but once you are able to walk, you must do so with a cane. Of course, you must anyway owing to your sightless condition."
"Blind." Erik muttered.
"What was that?" The physician asked.
"Say it, Nadir. Blind. I am blind, crippled, and deformed."
Erik heard him give an exasperated sigh. "I've said it once, and I'll say it again, the sightlessness you are experiencing could be temporary. Again, you must give yourself time to heal."
"When can I leave?"
"That's out of the question for a few weeks."
"When?!"
Erik, again, felt Nadir's hand fall upon his shoulder, and he grit his jaw, his posture stiffening.
Nadir continued patiently, "I want you to walk out of here instead of being rolled out in a chair. You must also give yourself time to adjust to your blindness. One of the nurses will assist you."
"Unnecessary." Erik insisted.
"Critical." Nadir countered. "It is an adjustment, Erik, and one you must accept. Your blindness is your most detrimental injury. It affects every aspect of your life. After all, you've lived thirty-three years using your eyes to comprehend the world. By now, I'm sure you've noticed how your other four senses have heightened. You must relearn how to gauge distance, count your steps, and rely on your other senses to get your bearings."
Through gritted teeth, Erik said, "I will stay until my leg is healed, but no longer, and I refuse to take your 'crash course in blindness', Khan." Dislodging the older man's hand from his shoulder, Erik wheeled around in his chair, and showed the Persian doctor his back.
After a long moment, Erik heard him leave the room.
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Erik's thoughts returned to earlier that day before Nadir had come to give him such glad tidings. His fists clenched as he recalled Carlotta's words:
"This wasn't what I imagined when I agreed to marry you, Erik."
He laughed humorlessly, "And you think I did, little queen?"
"It's your own fault. Solely. I told you that you didn't have to fight. You and I could have gone on tour anywhere. We could've escaped the fighting and gone anywhere else. But you decided to 'play hero' and look where it's landed you."
"Don't you mean 'look where it's landed us', madam?" Erik's tone was lethal.
"Mademoiselle still," she corrected him sweetly. "Thank God! Thank God I saw reason and had the foresight to postpone our wedding until after the war."
"Is that the way you truly feel, mademoiselle?"
"Truly?" Carlotta asked, "God, yes! You sicken me! The very sight of you sickens me, Erik! You are not the man I loved! Consider this an end to our engagement. I will have my solicitor contact you concerning the termination of my contract with the Opera effective immediately, along with a division of the assets from our apartment. Oh, and I'm also taking the dog."
Fighting hard at controlling the level of his voice, Erik replied, "As concerns the apartment and the damned dog, my girl, take them! What do I care? TAKE IT ALL, YOU GRASPING, SCHEMING DELILA, AND GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
She scoffed, "You always did have such a way with words, Erik dear."
He heard her begin to walk away.
"Leave the ring," he ordered softly.
Her dress swept across the floor, and he heard the rasping creak of cloth as her glove was removed. And then there was the bouncing clink as the band of gold and stone was tossed carelessly onto the small table before him.
Without another word, she turned and left.
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Get the hell out of my sight! His own words resounded in his head, mocking him.
Get the hell out of my sight! How she had laid him low, his little queen, with her parting laughter—her spiteful words.
He once more lifted his hands to his face, feeling the thick, ropey scars, the places where the skin was stretched and thin because of the burns, the stitches that were knitting him back together in a patchwork formation every bit as grotesque as Shelley's Creature.
And then, of course there was the rest of him.
He had gathered from Nadir that his entire front had suffered much of the same as his face. He was scarred, cut, and burned everywhere.
Those bandages weren't nearly as painful or time-consuming to change as the ones for his face had been, and Erik ran his hands over them as he'd had occasion to do in his months' long confinement.
They were healing every day, becoming less painful. Erik again tested his bandaged foot, seeing if it could bear a little more of his weight.
Today it felt strong.
It felt…
It felt as though if he didn't get out of this place, he was going to scream the walls down.
He needed out of the hospital—NOW!
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"NURSE!"
Christine jumped.
"NURSE!"
She was compelled to stop what she was doing—which was shaving Mr. Phillips—and go running to Mr. D'Anton's room.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one.
Three others stood outside the door, looking just as puzzled as she. It was as if they had been summoned there by something other than his screaming… But even as she thought it, he yelled again. "NNNUUUURRRRSSSSSE!" He ended on a sibilant hiss that had the four of them clapping their hands over their ears and wincing in pain.
"What the hell is he on about?" Nurse Thayer asked.
Nurse Deniaud shook her head. "I am not going in there. You couldn't pay me enough!"
"He's never bitten your head off, Daae, for whatever reason," Orderly Faucher pointed out. "Now be a good little girl and get in there."
"NNNNNNNUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE!"
All of them groaned, clutching at their ears; the sound had been deafening. Faucher reached for the knob and wrenched the door open right as Thayer shoved Christine into the room.
It closed with a clang of finality.
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Christine scrabbled back against the smooth, wooded surface, groping for the doorknob.
"Who did they send, hmm? Cowards, all of you."
Christine saw him sniff at the air. "Ah, Nurse Daae." He smiled crookedly, with a hint of cynicism. "Considering your nervous nature, it's ironic they sent you to my room at all, and especially so now." His sightless eyes flared. "But that is neither here nor there. And here you are, and there by the door you shall remain until I say so.
"Now, you will take me to a telephone and dial a number for me. You will write what I tell you to write when I tell you to write it. Yes?"
Christine licked her lips, and swallowing convulsively, tried to answer him but the words kept getting lodged in her throat.
"ANSWER ME, DAMMIT! FOR THE LITTLE MOUSE YOU ARE, A SQUEAK WILL DO JUST FINE!"
To her mortification, it was a squeak that issued from her throat.
She saw him smile viciously, the expression cruel on his wretched face. "Good, we've proved you're not mute. Now, let's prove you're worth more than the meager salary you draw would suggest and see if you can follow simple instructions. … … …MOVE MS. DAAE, NOW!"
Christine snapped to, quickly making her way over to the wheelchair-bound man. Trembling like a leaf, she began pushing him out of his room encountering strange stares from those they passed as they went. By now, the majority of the nursing staff had arrived and some of the patients as well to watch their slow procession.
"Quicken the pace, Ms. Daae. I haven't all day."
She felt compelled to do so, moving them faster down the long corridor towards the nurse's station.
"Thank you, Christine. I'll take him from here." Startled, Christine looked up into the determined eyes of Nurse Tomlin.
"You will not take me anywhere, Madam. Nurse Daae, continue."
Again, Christine felt compelled to comply, but she was brushed aside, their progress halting as the head nurse gripped the handles to his chair.
Nurse Tomlin said softly, "Lieutenant, what do you think you're doing?"
"I am leaving, hellcat, and don't you dare try and stop me."
Blinking, Christine shook her head to clear it and looked up at the faces surrounding her. They were all of them staring at him. She, too, looked down at Mr. D'Anton, and for the first time that day, noticed the way he was dressed.
Instead of a robe and the casual button-down cotton shirt and pants she was used to seeing him in, he was in a white dress shirt and slacks, a loafer on one foot, a slipper still upon the other because the loafer obviously couldn't accommodate the thick bandage on his foot.
And as Christine looked closer, she noticed he had apparently, in his haste, missed a button half-way up his shirt, making his collar dip down unevenly and exposing the newly-acquired scars he had at his throat.
"Oh, really? Checking yourself out, are you?" Nurse Tomling said wryly, "I must strongly advise against that."
"Ms. Daae, take me to a phone."
Christine was pushing Nurse Tomlin roughly aside before she knew it, grabbing the handles of his chair, and then they were again rolling swiftly along down the hall.
"Christine Daae, you stop this instant!" she heard the head nurse yell.
"You will not." Mr. D'Anton ordered through clenched teeth.
"I will notify Dr. Khan of this, Lieutenant! He will not be pleased."
Mr. D'Anton did not respond.
Reaching the end of the corridor and wheeling him around, Christine put her back against the door to the Nurse's station and pushed, the heavy door reluctantly grinding open to admit them. Grunting, she pulled him through and then wheeled him until he was near the phone.
"Dial," he ordered her, telling her the number. Immediately, she began doing his bidding, picking up the receiver and putting her finger to the rotary wheel, turning it. Nurse Tomlin burst into the room just as it started to ring.
"This is Fermin," a tinny voice answered the line.
"Lieutenant," Nurse Tomlin yelled, "I forbid you to leave! You have not healed enou—"
"Hand me the phone, Nurse Daae."
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A/N: Oh, dear.
But what did you think of Erik's diagnosis? …and he learned this just after La Carlotta broke off their engagement?
Och, poor man! No wonder he's running…errm, rolling...for the hills.
I have been remiss in thanking one very special Beta— FP33— in my last posted chapters. She has been instrumental in making sure all my 'i's' are dotted and my 't's' are crossed as well as providing valuable insight into the final product you see before you.
A divine authoress in her own right, you can check out her works under her penname: FantomPhan33
More soon, dear readers.
Keep watch,
PFP