Chapter 22

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Chapter 22 (Erik's POV)

I hadn't seen Gustave all morning. I wasn't exactly worried about him. He left me a note saying that he had gone out for a little while, but it was so unusual for him to do that. The boy was almost sixteen. I couldn't keep him under my wing forever, but I wished so desperately that I could.

I decided to occupy my mind by going back to the warehouse to work on the project Gustave and I were creating. Later in the day when it was starting to get hot, I decided to take a break. My shirt was sticking to me, so I took it off. I opened the windows and sat on the work table. In the reflection of a sheet of metal, I saw my scarred face and chest. After all of the years I had spent being forced to live with the way I looked, it still was appalled by my reflection. I felt sorry for Gustave. He had to look at me every day. I felt sorry for Christine who had at one time kissed my wretched face, but if she never had, I never would have had my son that I adored and loved.

I regretted more than anything that I left her that night. I thought about it every day. If I had not left her, she would probably still be alive. I could have watched Gustave grow up from the beginning. I wouldn't have felt so alone in that moment. I missed her terribly. I had spent ten years without her, and then she was gone within an hour of winning her back. I was a horrible person. Raoul had taken care of her for ten years without anyone harming a hair on her head, and I couldn't even take care of her for a whole night.

I buried my face in my palms. I didn't dare cry. I couldn't cry again. She wouldn't have wanted me to. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her voice and the way she had once felt on my cold lifeless skin.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I slipped my arms through the sleeves of my white shirt and slid my mask over my face.

When I answered the door, I saw the last thing I expected. There in the doorframe stood a man with icy blue eyes, slicked back brown hair, a black tuxedo, matching cape, and the most frightening thing of all, a white porcelain mask that covered the right side of his face.

Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I looked into the eyes of my one and only son.

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