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Christine, oh, Christine…
My heart weeps as I reminisce about the day you departed. It was a day marked by sorrow and yet sweetness, the memory of your tender kiss upon my tainted skin etched into my very soul. It defied all my expectations, for you willingly embraced my decaying flesh. My dearest Christine, I cling to this recollection as if it were my lifeline. The passing weeks seem inconceivable, but I resist accepting their passage, yearning to forever bask in that cherished moment. However, I also long for the day you return, as you vowed to. Will you, my love, keep your promise and return to me?
You remain a paragon of virtue, dear Christine, and I, a prisoner of longing.
-E
When Hanna awoke, she found herself in utter silence. Erik had always managed to steal a precious minute to serenade her with the delicate melodies of his piano. But this time, an unusual silence hung in the air.
Hanna got up, freshened up in the bathroom, and left her room. Perhaps he had resurfaced again?, she wondered.
In the drawing room, she tended to the nearly burnt-out fire in the fireplace and poked the logs. Before long, her gaze wandered towards the untouched boxes that adorned the nearby table. She opened them with care, finding chocolates, scented soaps, and clothing inside. A subtle, affectionate smile graced her lips as she couldn't help but be charmed by Erik's thoughtfulness.
Her eyes then wandered to the colorful flowers adorning elegant vases atop the dressers, casting a spell of irresistible allure throughout the room. Each petal and hue whispered the words of appreciation and warmth.
Despite their limited familiarity, Erik had made a sweet effort to surprise and delight her with these gifts.
However, the thought of how he had forced her into marriage darkened her expression. She couldn't quite fathom him. On one hand, she was expected to obey him unquestionably, and on the other, he seemed to be trying to win her over with gifts.
But was it really about buying her affection, or was he simply desperate?
Hanna let out a sigh. Speculating wasn't the right approach. She needed to have a conversation with him.
With the carefully collected boxes cradled in her arms, Hanna retreated to her room. There, she reclined on her bed, savoring the chocolates as she perused the newspapers. All the while, she discreetly listened for the sound of the bell that would announce Erik's arrival.
After flipping through all the newspapers and nearly emptying the box of chocolates, she couldn't help but puzzle over the continued absence of the doorbell's chime.
Her curiosity piqued, she rose from the bed and made her way to the front door, her steps carrying her to the threshold. It was there that she confirmed that the boat remained serenely moored in the placid waters.
Hanna, her brows furrowed in bewilderment, made her way back into the house. She couldn't help but wonder how Erik had managed to approach without her noticing, or perhaps he had never left the confines of their home.
Continuing her journey toward Erik's room, she hesitated briefly before gently calling out, "Erik?" Her knuckles rapped lightly against the door, and she strained to hear any signs of movement beyond it. Yet, all she encountered was an eerie stillness.
Determined, she raised her voice and called his name once more. This time, she detected a faint shift behind the securely shut door. But despite the subtle signs of life on the other side, the door remained unyielding, and he didn't respond..
With an exasperated huff, Hanna retreated to her room. She knew she couldn't simply wait for Erik to resurface in his own time; they needed to have that conversation.
Picking up two newspapers, she headed back to Erik's door and tried once more. "Erik? Are you in there?"
As expected, Erik's silence persisted, leaving Hanna to confront the solitude of her one-sided conversation.
"I was wondering if you could help me?" Hanna leafed through the newspaper and stopped at the chapter of La Fille du Vampire.
"I'm having trouble understanding everything in this story," she said, clearing her throat and beginning to read a passage with a heavy German accent, "Rien ne se communique plus promptement que la superstition, le fanatisme, les sortilèges et les contes de revenants."
She lowered the newspaper, waiting for a response. But with no answer forthcoming, she stood like a statue in front of the door, her fingers tensing around the newspaper. Eventually, she returned to the drawing room.
She settled into the chaise longue and drifted into thought while watching the flickering fire. The weight of isolation in this unfamiliar time pressed upon her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and far from the familiar embrace of family and friends. She hadn't experienced this kind of helplessness before, and she felt a pang of shame at how quickly she had given in and returned to Erik.
Tilting her head slightly, she contemplated Erik's actions. He had taken her in with little knowledge of who she was, and it occurred to her that she might have made a peculiar first impression. But he hadn't questioned anything, not even the smartphone. That was if she were to believe him, that he didn't confiscate her belongings.
Perhaps Erik's lack of interest in her backstory was deliberate. And even if he were curious, what could Hanna possibly tell him? Certainly not that she was from the future.
She couldn't even impress him with her knowledge, as her skills and information seemed irrelevant in this time. She had often read in novels how heroines with extraordinary abilities piqued the interest of those around them. Yet, she knew little about medicine, had only been lucky in saving Erik's life, and was far from adept in modern technology.
She propped her head on her hand, her brow furrowing in deep thought. If she had known, she might have chosen a more practical skill to acquire. Her marketing work had been confined to the digital realm, and the theories she had studied in university were gradually fading from her memory.
Lost in her own mental turmoil, Hanna initially didn't notice Erik entering the room. She let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her forehead. Why was she so determined to impress him? She should focus on being useful and not a burden to him.
As Hanna rose from the chaise longue, intent on knocking on Erik's door once more, she suddenly became aware of Erik's presence just a few meters away. He stood in the center of the room, his imposing figure towering over her, prompting her to instinctively retake her seat on the chaise longue. Meeting his gaze, she watched as he approached and took a seat in a chair opposite her.
For a few moments, they exchanged no words, simply locking eyes in a silent exchange. It felt as if Hanna could lose herself in those eyes. They held a fascination that mirrored all the emotions she might have otherwise gleaned from his facial expressions, which remained obscured by one of his black masks.
In this moment, his eyes exuded a sense of serenity, but deep within their depths, Hanna could discern the familiar undercurrent of sadness she had come to associate with him.
"Nothing communicates itself more readily than superstition, fanaticism, spells, and the tales of the ghosts," he finally spoke, his voice gentle yet commanding.
Hanna blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"
"La Fille du Vampire. You asked for my assistance,," he reminded her.
This was her chance to establish a connection with him. She sat up energetically and reached for the newspaper from which he had just quoted, rapidly flipping through the pages and nodding enthusiastically.
"And this?" she inquired, her index finger delicately resting on another passage in the newspaper. Leaning forward, she felt a slight unease being so close to Erik. Subconsciously, she recalled the power and potential threat he held, but she was determined to push those feelings aside.
As she leaned in closer, Hanna could sense that her efforts to foster a positive connection with Erik were starting to yield results. Erik lowered his gaze to the text she was pointing at and proceeded to translate the sentence. "She goes out at midnight, this so-called hour of creation of the dead."
The sentence, coupled with memory of Erik's visage that resembled a living corpse, sent shivers down her spine. Her fingers trembled slightly, causing the paper to rustle beneath her touch, and she lowered the newspaper.
"I," she stammered, her eyes avoiding his, and with a swift motion, she stood up from the chaise longue. "I'll make some tea for us." She couldn't help but notice the clenched fists at Erik's sides out of the corner of her eye and she retreated to the kitchen.
Inside the kitchen, she began the process of boiling water and arranged the tea set on a tray. Her fingers still quivered with the remnants of fear. To regain her composure, she took slow, deliberate breaths, leaning against the kitchen wall. Her heart raced, not just with anxiety but also with the anticipation of building a connection with Erik.
Deep down, she was aware that Erik had undoubtedly noticed that he had unintentionally struck fear into her, but she remained determined to overcome this unease and develop a better understanding of the man in whose company she now found herself.
Hanna found herself in an internal struggle, caught between a desire to laugh and the urge to shed tears. She knew that her current predicament was quite delicate. It was a matter of luck that Erik hadn't retreated to his room and shut her out completely. She had to gather herself. Erik couldn't be blamed for his appearance, as unsettling as it was. Yet, it proved to be a challenging task.
As the kettle whistled, Hanna took another deep breath. She returned to the drawing room, a tray bearing freshly brewed tea in her hands. To her relief, Erik remained seated in the chair, although his body language displayed evident tension. His long legs were drawn up, his posture seemingly defensive.
The sight tugged at Hanna's emotions. She wished she could quickly look past his ghastly appearance. She poured the tea into two cups, and her inquiry about sugar was met with golden eyes brimming with unexpected sadness.
"No, thank you," he replied politely, and Hanna nodded, offering a warm smile. She added a touch of sugar to her own tea and gently stirred it with a spoon, her gaze alternating between the tea and Erik, hoping that the small gesture would help ease the tension that had crept into the room.
Hanna settled back into the chaise longue, taking the newspaper Erik had been reading. "I understand some words, but not the context," she explained, forcing herself to meet his gaze when engaging in conversation. She felt that he deserved at least this amount of respect from her.
"If you wouldn't mind, could you occasionally help me understand the texts?" she inquired.
He nodded briefly. Hanna mustered her best smile. "Thank you."
Reclining in the comfortable chair, she began to read the chapter. From time to time, she took sips of tea and asked Erik for the meaning of certain words, which he calmly translated for her. After a while, Erik selected a book from the shelf and began to read as well.
The atmosphere in the room was serene, and with each passing minute, Hanna felt more at ease in his presence, though a subtle tension still lingered in her body.
As she was translating the second newspaper, Erik rose from his seat. "It's quite late," he announced, holding his pocket watch in his hands. Hanna raised an eyebrow, not being aware of the time. The topic of time and clocks rested on the tip of her tongue, but she restrained herself from broaching it.
She couldn't afford to undermine her small achievement – a moment in which Erik hadn't torn the entire house apart or inundated her with emotions.
"Have a good rest," she offered with a smile, though it carried a hint of forced cheerfulness. Erik didn't respond, and he left the room. Hanna watched him exit, feeling a sense of utter perplexity. She couldn't quite figure him out. On one hand, she was relieved that he had moved past his obsession with marriage, but on the other hand, his despondency troubled her.
Returning her focus to the translation, the words began to blur before her eyes, and she had to stifle a yawn. She made the decision to retire for the night and continue reading the next day.
Suppressing another yawn, she collected the tea cups onto the tray and quietly made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed some bread, much as she had the evening before, and stealthily returned to the drawing room. However, as she walked back, a soft sob caught her in her tracks.
Erik was crying.
Hanna found herself in a perplexing situation, unsure of how to handle Erik's tears. Ignoring his ongoing crying wasn't a sustainable solution, but what should she do right now? How could she comfort him? Should she assure him that she would stay? Hanna pursed her lips, recognizing that such a promise would be a lie, and she was a poor liar. She couldn't endure his anger if he discovered a falsehood after such a short time.
Her fingernails dug into her palms. "I'm sorry," she whispered and hastily retreated to her room.
The following morning, Hanna awoke with a mild headache. She had wept for Erik the previous night and reproached herself in the morning for fleeing his pain. She freshened up in the bathroom and donned the clothing Erik had given her.
Surveying herself in the mirror, she combed her hair back, taking care not to reopen the wound on the back of her head. As she left her room, she found the house quiet as the day before. She proceeded to the kitchen, hastily preparing her breakfast in silence.
After making tea, she moved to the drawing room, placing the tray on the small table between the chaise longue and the sofa. Hanna added more firewood to the fireplace and lit additional candles to brighten the room.
Hanna fetched another issue of Le Petit Journal from her room, along with the box of chocolates. Settling down on the chaise longue, she aimlessly flipped through the newspaper, ready and waiting for Erik to join her on this occasion.
The wait proved to be quite lengthy, and by the time the slender man emerged from his room, the tea had grown cold. He was, as usual, elegantly dressed, his face concealed by a white, plain mask crafted from rigid material. Hanna couldn't help but wonder if this mask was more or less comfortable than the cloth one he typically wore, but she refrained from voicing her curiosity.
"Good morning," she greeted him.
"Good morning, my dear," he replied, and the affectionate term left her momentarily breathless. Had his disposition improved since yesterday?
Taking a seat in the chair, he retrieved the book he had been reading the previous day from the table. Crossing his legs, he settled in and began to read. Hanna continued to observe him for a while before eventually standing up and excusing herself to prepare fresh tea.
In the kitchen, she leaned against the wall, lost in thought. Erik appeared to be in a better mood, and Hanna wondered if she had overanalyzed the situation when she had heard him cry. She shook her head inwardly, reminding herself that heartaches don't simply vanish overnight.
Returning to the drawing room with freshly brewed tea and a slice of bread spread with jam, Hanna found both of them sitting in silence. They sipped their tea occasionally, and every so often, Erik's rich voice filled the room as he translated sentences into German for her.
However, after some time, Hanna grew weary of the continuous translating. She pondered how to establish a deeper connection with Erik. They knew so little about each other that conversation topics were quickly exhausted. Her thoughts eventually settled on music.
"Erik?" she inquired, and he lifted his head. His white mask remained expressionless, leaving her a bit uncertain about whether she should ask for another favor.
"Do you know any works by Schubert for the piano?"
He practically leaped from the chair, and his abrupt movement startled Hanna, causing her to instinctively retreat into the cushion. "Of course!"
Erik tossed the book back onto the table and hurriedly made his way to the music room. Hanna held her hand over her chest, startled by his reaction, and eventually followed him. Seated at the piano, she took a chair while Erik looked at her with bright, eager eyes.
"Do you have a specific piece you would like me to play, my love?" Erik's excitement was tangible, his fingers eagerly tapping ghostly notes on his lap.
Feeling somewhat taken aback, Hanna paused for a moment to consider. "Um... how about Serenade?"
"Of course, Serenade," he responded with enthusiasm, his posture rigid and focused. Without any delay, he turned towards the piano, his back perfectly straight, and began to play. The gentle notes worked like a magic balm, soothing any remaining tension in Hanna, and she leaned back in her chair, observing Erik as he played.
Erik was completely lost in the music, and as the piece concluded, the notes effortlessly transitioned into other serene compositions, lulling Hanna into a tranquil state. She closed her eyes, and who knows how long she remained in that chair, entranced by the soothing melodies.
However, an abrupt, piercing ring broke her reverie, startling her back to reality. The piano music ceased immediately, and before she could grasp the situation, Erik had pulled her from her chair and was practically dragging her along.
"Hey!" Hanna exclaimed, her voice trembling, as Erik swiftly yanked her into her room and then into the bathroom. Everything happened so rapidly that she couldn't fully grasp the situation until she found herself bound to a chair with a rope, her heart racing.
"Erik," she uttered in fear. His bony fingers expertly worked to secure the knots, and he seemed panicked and rushed. "Shhh, be very quiet," he urged. Hanna was utterly baffled by the turn of events, unable to make sense of why he was binding her or what had agitated him so much.
"Be a good wife and be still." This time his tone carried a threatening undertone, causing Hanna to whimper softly. Erik retrieved a cloth from his breast pocket, and Hanna pleaded, "No, no, don't do this... please." Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he gagged her, and hot tears streamed down her face.
Once Erik was finished, he hastily left the bathroom, leaving Hanna in the suffocating darkness. She wept softly but dared not make any loud noises, her heart filled with dread.
She strained her ears, hoping to pick up any information from the other side of the doors. What felt like an eternity passed in the unsettling darkness before she detected a faint ringing at the front door, followed by muffled voices.
The voices were those of men, but Hanna couldn't discern their words. The men's voices grew louder, and suddenly, she heard loud banging. She recoiled in shock. What was happening in the other room, and who were these men?
Then the voices fell silent, and it was quiet for a brief moment. All at once, she heard Erik's scream and the shattering of glass. What had happened to him?
Hanna twisted in her chair, hoping to somehow free herself from the restraints and check on him, but her efforts were in vain.
She listened as Erik raged and cried in the other room. Despairingly, she sat in the darkness, hoping he wouldn't return to the bathroom in his fury. His behavior was unpredictable, and at that moment, Hanna was overwhelmed by pure panic, fearing he might take it out on her.
Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open, flooding the room with light. Hanna's eyes widened in fear as Erik stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped. He wasn't wearing his mask, and tears streamed incessantly down his face. His bony hands trembled, and Hanna shockingly noticed that there was blood on them. His own blood? Or that of another man? A shiver ran down her spine, and she felt nauseous.
"Why?" he growled through clenched teeth, stumbling closer to her.
Hanna's head shook violently as he drew near. She mumbled incomprehensible words, her voice muffled by the gag.
His bony hands landed on her shoulder, and he shook her forcefully, demanding answers. "Why?" he screamed, his eyes wide and wild. Hanna trembled all over, unable to fathom what he expected of her. Was he about to do something terrible to her?
Then, Erik knelt in front of her, his wiry arms encircling her waist, and he buried his head in her lap. His bony shoulders convulsed with violent sobs, and he cried uncontrollably, repeatedly muttering, "Christine... oh, Christine... why."
Clutching her pants tightly, he transferred the blood onto her clothing. Hanna shivered from the combination of fear and confusion, staring down at his anguished face as it remained nestled in her lap.
She whimpered through the gag, and Erik raised his tear-filled eyes to her, his mask discarded.
"You would never leave me, would you?" he pleaded, his voice heavy with sadness.
She responded with an emphatic shake of her head, tears coursing down her own cheeks. In this moment, Hanna was both terrified and determined to assure Erik that she would not abandon him.
"You'll stay with me?"
She nodded.
"Promise me, Hanna," he pleaded, removing the gag. She audibly gasped for breath and reassured him, "I promise! I'll stay with you forever!"
"Lies!" he roared, his eyes suddenly blazing with anger as he jumped to his feet. "You women like to lie. You would say anything just to escape from Erik at the first opportunity."
Hanna bit her lower lip and shook her head vehemently.
Erik loomed over her, drawing his face closer to hers. She forced herself to maintain eye contact, not shying away from his fiery gaze. He didn't speak, merely staring at her and waiting for a response. Though she trembled from head to toe, she held her ground, meeting his gaze.
Then he lowered his eyes and knelt on the ground, coming close to her feet. She gasped as she watched him begin to kiss the cold floor before her.
"Erik, please stop," Hanna's voice trembled as she implored him to stop, her eyes welling up with tears. She couldn't bear the sight of him humbling himself in such a way. Erik, however, continued to kiss the floor and her feet, ignoring her pleas.
Desperation welled up within her as she realized he wasn't going to cease his actions. Her heart ached for this tormented soul before her. "Erik, please," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't do this. I'm staying. Please, get up."
His luminous eyes stared up at her, a mixture of torment and longing. He paused for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Then, slowly and with a heavy heart, he rose to his feet, his expression fraught with emotion.
Hanna's heart went out to him as he stood before her, still trembling from the ordeal. She wanted to comfort him, to understand him, but she knew that there was much more to Erik's complex nature than met the eye.
His slender arms enveloped her hips once again, and once more, he wept, his pleas for forgiveness reverberating throughout the entire house. His suffering was like a single stab to the heart, and the sound of his crying compelled one to share in his sorrow.
In the dimly lit bathroom, they sat together, weeping for Erik. Hanna tried to speak soothingly to him whenever she could find her voice amid the tears. But Erik remained inconsolable, still clutching her clothing while his tears flowed unabated.
Hanna felt helpless, unsure of how to calm him. Then, she thought of music and remembered Erik's deep love for it. Although she wasn't a skilled singer and her voice lacked the strength for clear words, she hummed a melody she had heard in her childhood, taught to her by her grandmother.
It was a gentle tune with German lyrics occasionally emerging but often omitted. Surprisingly, it seemed to have a calming effect as Erik's fingers gradually loosened their tight grip.
With tearful eyes, he raised his head and gazed at Hanna in disbelief. "How...?" he began to ask, his voice trembling.
Translation and information about the „La Fille du Vampire" are taken from phantomstheater (Link in bio)