The curtain had suddenly come down, the sounds of screams and people scrambling were all that could be heard. I knew any second from now, Raoul and the stagehands would be hurrying to my side. Erik's body was now on the stage floor, his hand pressing against his chest as blood pooled at his side. He was looking at me with all the desperation in the world.
"Ch…Christine, please…" he begged in a painful tone of voice. "Please, don't…let them…find me."
I knelt down beside him, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was hurrying towards us.
"You need to get out of here." I said, pulling Erik to his feet. "You have to hide."
"Christine!"
I could hear Raoul calling out my name and knew that any minute from now he would find me. I was just turning back to tell Erik to hurry, when I saw that he was gone. I sighed in relief, and at that moment, was met with Raoul and a few officers.
"Christine, where is he?"
I was so angry with Raoul over his betrayal, so angry that I could only look at him with terrified eyes.
"Look!"
One of the officers stated, pointing to the stage floor.The stage had a trail of Erik's blood leading towards the doors, and Raoul pulled me along to as they began to follow it. No, I couldn't watch these men corner Erik like a wounded animal, only to finish him off. Erik's trail of blood led out into the hall, and down the dark corridor, until finally, the trail went cold. The tiny red droplets just stopped in the middle of the hall, as if Erik had disappeared into thin air.
"This makes no sense!" an officer cried, circling around the area we were currently standing in.
"Look at all of this," Raoul said, pointing to the puddles of Erik's blood that we had been following. "He's lost too much blood to survive. I believe that our job here is done. He will crawl into a corner and die from his wounds."
Raoul finally turned to me and smiled. "Come, Lotte, let us leave this place."
My emotions finally let loose, and I slapped the man as hard as I could across the face.
"Christine!" he snapped, rubbing his sore cheek.
"How dare you!" I cried. "You promised me, Raoul! You promised that no one was going to get hurt."
"And no one did, Christine!" he argued. "No one but that demon! Did you truly believe that we would have been able to take him in alive? We'd all be dead, Christine!"
"What if those bullets missed?" I continued. "They could have hit me or anyone else that was on that stage. That was so careless of you! I thought you loved me more than that."
"I do!" he assured.I broke from his embrace.
"You don't!"
"What does it matter, Christine?"
Raoul questioned. "It's over now."
I shook my head. "I wish to be alone."
I was just heading down the hall, when Raoul raced after me.
"Christine, please be reasonable!"
"I am!" I cried. "And I do not wish to see you again! Not tonight or any other night, Raoul!"
I continued to make my way down the hall, when I heard Raoul's angry voice calling for me.
"Go on, Christine; mourn that demon! I will be here when you are ready to come back to reality, like always."
For hours, I sat in the ballerina quarters, tears running down my cheeks as I continued to see the events of the evening replaying over and over again in my head. The sound of the gunshot still frightened me, and the sight of Erik's body still pained my heart. The chaos that had ensued earlier in the evening had passed; the once frightful and noisy theatre becoming deathly silent. It was only then that I set out to find Erik or his lifeless body.
"Erik?"I softly called his name as I headed down the corridors with a lantern in hand. I found it highly unlikely that he was able to make it back down beneath the opera house and continued to make my way to where the trail of blood had stopped.
"Erik, please answer me."
Finally, I heard labored breathing coming from one of the stone walls. Curious, I approached what appeared to be a hidden passageway, feeling around for anything that would trigger it to open. When the small door popped ajar, I shun the lantern inside, finding Erik's body sprawled out on the damp stone floor. His body was shivering uncontrollably from the deathly chill of the passageway, and he was soaked in his own blood. I knelt beside him and placed my lantern down to investigate his wounds.
"Erik…"
Finally, his mismatched eyes cracked open and gazed upon me with all the pain in the world.
"Seal…Seal the passageway." he groaned. "D…Don't let them find me."
"No," I shook my head. "I won't let you die."
"Do not…fear death, Christine." he murmured. "Everyone owes a death…Some just sooner than others."
I refused to let this be the end, for there had to be something I could do for Erik. I reached for his arm and swung it over my shoulder, prying him to his feet with all the strength I could muster. Erik groaned and pleaded with me to let him die, but I would not.The opera house was empty, and with the Christmas holiday occurring, I knew there wouldn't be anyone in the ballerina quarters from now until two days after Christmas. Christmas was always such a lonely time, especially due to me having no one to spend it with. While everyone went home for Christmas, I was usually left alone, spending that time praying in the chapel or visiting my father's grave.
"Christine, no…" Erik pleaded when he saw us entering the area that was strictly forbidden to anyone other than the ballerinas.
"You will be safe here." I assured, placing him down onto my bed.I ran to the other room to get a basin of hot water and some clean towels, coming back to find Erik attempting to sit up.
"Erik, no," I said, quickly pushing him back down. "You need help."
"And what if someone finds you helping me?" he groaned. "What will they do to you then?"
I shook my head of the thought and worked at getting the buttons to Erik's jacket undone. Though, as soon as I tried to do so, a bloody hand placed itself over my own.
"Erik, please…" I begged. "Please let me help you."
Finally, he let go and I was able to continue pulling away his clothes, finding that each garment that was closer to his body was more saturated in blood than the last. I was gentle with his injured arm and worked it out of his shirt as carefully as possible. I had been confident in being able to help this man, but when I finally had the final article of clothing removed from his chest and saw two gaping wounds on his back, I lost all the confidence I once carried. The entry wounds were about the size of a franc, each located near his right lung.
"Erik, I don't know what to do."
Erik sat up as straight as he could, his eyes gazing over his shoulder at me.
"The…bullets…have to be removed."
My eyes widened in horror. Remove the bullets? How was I to remove the bullets when I didn't even know where they were? Erik's breathing was ragged, and he was wincing in pain with every breath that he took.
"Erik…"
"Please, Christine…" he begged.
I reached into my nightstand for a pair of tweezers and began to dig through his wound, while Erik bit his lip to prevent him from yelling out in pain. I apologized every few seconds and breathed a sigh of relief when the first bullet was removed. Again, I entered through the second wound, digging around until I felt the bullet and pulled it out, though, as soon as I did so, blood began to gush out of it.
"Oh, Erik…" I quickly pressed a towel against his back, pressing hard as the white cloth became soaked in a crimson red color.
"Disinfect the wounds, Christine…" he ached.
"How?" I frantically questioned.
"Alcohol."
Quickly, I dashed down the hall where the stagehands usually hung out and began to search for any bottle of the liquid I could find. There wasn't much, but I came across a half empty bottle of white wine and hurried back down the hall with it in hand. I quickly soaked a towel in the liquid and pressed it against Erik's wounds, the instant contact causing Erik to cry out in pain, his cries echoing off the walls of the room we were in. I pressed against them for the longest time, only removing it when the sizzling had ceased.
Erik seemed so exhausted for he just sat there breathing heavily with his eyes half opened, all while his body still shivering uncontrollably.I worked quickly at bandaging his wounds, wrapping the gauze tightly and getting it as thick as I could to absorb any remaining blood that was leaking from him. Erik barely made a sound as I removed his shoes and gently laid him back on the mattress to rest.
After cleaning up, I sat on Meg's bed and watched as he slept, his breathing heavy and filled with pain. Raoul had caused this. How could I ever forgive him for breaking his promise to me? Erik was on death's door, and I wasn't even sure he was going to live, not when he had lost so much blood and was in so much pain. I sat by his side through the entire night, being too afraid to fall asleep only to wake and find that he had died under my care. By morning, Erik's breathing sounded much better, and only then did I head to the kitchen to make him something to eat.
The opera house was still deathly silent, for it was Christmas Eve. When my father was alive, we would usually spend the day preparing food and that evening, we would enjoy what we had spent the day preparing, followed by singing carols in front of the fire. We were poor and didn't have much, but my father always made the holiday special for me. After making Erik some toast, I walked it back to the ballerina quarters and sat the plate down on the bedside table. His eyes finally opened and when he saw me standing over him, he immediately sat up; a painful groan escaping his lips.
"I should not be here." he croaked. "I...I belong in my lair."
Erik tried to stand, but I gently forced him back down.
"You have nothing to fear." I assured. "It's Christmas Eve. Everyone has gone home to visit family. You need to rest."
Erik placed a hand on his chest, his fingers kneading his pain away as I placed his breakfast in front of him.
"Eat." I said. "You need your strength."
Erik looked down at the toast, his painful eyes gazing back up at me.
"I need to return to my lair, Christine. If I eat, you must help me get there."
As much as I hated the thought of moving Erik, he was right. I wasn't sure if anyone would return before the end of the Christmas holiday, and if they did, I didn't want to be caught.
Moving Erik was not easy, for he could barely stand on his own. I kept my arm around him as we headed below the opera house, relieved when we came through his front door. Erik collapsed onto his bed and breathed a sigh of relief when he was off his feet. I worked quickly at taking off his bandages to have a look at his wounds and was happy to see that they were no longer bleeding.
"Christine, have you ever mended a torn dress?" came Erik's painful voice.
"I have." I replied.
"Then you should be able to stitch my wounds."
My heart ceased within my chest. Stitch his wounds?
"Erik..." I tried to intervene, but he wouldn't listen.
"I...I cannot do this myself." he ached. "If you do not sew them closed, the wounds will become infected and worsen my condition."
Erik's shaking hand reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a needle and thread. No, I couldn't! I wouldn't!
"This will be painful." I said in an emotionless tone of voice.
Erik placed his hand over a large, lumpy scar that stretched across his chest.
"I...I have felt worse pain, Christine."
I sighed in defeat and threaded the sharp needle, taking a breath as I pierced it through the flesh of his first wound. Erik grunted as I wove in and out of his pale flesh, and I apologized after every thread was pulled tight. When both of his wounds were stitched closed, I cut the thread and said my final apology.
"Forgive me, Maestro." I said, looking down at my feet. "I have caused you so much pain."
I felt a cold finger reach beneath my chin and gently lift it so that I could see his kind eyes.
"Never, Christine." Erik crooned. "It is society that has caused this; not you...Never you, my angel."
Erik struggled to his feet and held onto the wall as he headed towards the washroom.
"I am going to bathe."
"Do you need help?" I questioned.
Erik's eyes seemed to become filled with extreme embarrassment, for he quickly declined and slipped into the washroom before closing the door behind him.
Deciding to get him some clean bandages, I headed out to one of the closets and searched for everything I needed to tend to his wounds, returning to find the washroom door slightly ajar. I was never one to pry, but I couldn't help but find myself curious. I stood there in the cracked doorway, gazing in to find Erik sitting in his claw footed tub; his back exposed for me to see. His white mask was also placed on its porcelain ledge.Deciding to turn around before I was caught, I did so to place the items down on his bed, only to turn and find Erik walking out of the washroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. I gasped in fright, but not because he wasn't wearing his mask, but because his sudden entrance had startled me. Erik, on the other hand believed I had gasped because he wasn't wearing his mask, which caused him to quickly turn around and fumble to place it back on.
"Erik, no," I said, reaching for the mask and pulling it away. "You didn't frighten me."
Erik's fingers shook and he pressed his eyes closed as I pulled the garment away from him.
"Oh, Christine," he cried. "Forgive me."
He gently pried his mask from me and placed it back over his malformed face.
"Things are better this way."
"Erik..."
Erik held up his hand to silence me.
"Please, Christine, don't."
I bandaged his wounds in silence and then, he returned to his bed to rest. I was at a loss for words and did not know what to say to make things any better.
"Do you need anything?" I questioned as I made my way towards the door.
"That will be all, Christine, thank you."
It was Christmas Eve, and it was turning out to be just as lonely as every other one had been. Wanting to speak to my father, I donned my cloak and headed out into the snowy afternoon, walking down the busy streets to the cemetery. Everyone was still in town gathering their last-minute items for their meals they would be making this evening. I always dreamed of having a large family to celebrate the holiday with, but every year came and went, and still, I was alone. Raoul had invited me to dine with his family, but after everything that had taken place, I didn't want to face the man.
Tonight, I would return to the opera house and most likely spend the remainder of the evening praying in the chapel or silently reading at Erik's bedside in order to keep an eye on him while he recuperated from his injuries.After visiting my father's grave, I noticed that the church bells were ringing for Christmas Eve service. It had been many years since I had last been to church, and therefore, I decided to attend.
If anyone needed a Christmas miracle, it was Erik, for he had been close to death's door. I sat in the wooden pew and bowed my head, praying for a full recovery, and that Raoul would come to terms with how badly he had hurt me. I pictured my father sitting beside me and squeezing my hand like he used to do during church services. He had been my best friend, and over the years I missed him more than anything. My father had promised that he would send the angel of music to watch over me when he was gone, and for years I believed that he had done just that.
When Erik presented himself to me as a man, everything had changed. After everything that has transpired between us, there were times when I wished that things were still the way they had been, and that I still believed Erik to be nothing more than an angel.
Erik was not an angel; he was a living and breathing man that wanted to be treated like everyone else. I was torn between my friend who lived beneath the opera house, and the man who lived above it.
