Hopeful Soul: A Phantom Story

Chapter Thirty.

CHRISTINE:

Bathing made me relax, no matter the time nor place. Being clean felt amazing and putting on a fresh gown was just as great. Though in a few months we were supposed to marry, I hadn't heard a word from Raoul since the day he sent me out to shop. As I walked down the hall, I heard odd noises coming from what I assumed to be his room. Curse my curiosity, I opened the door a segment and saw the most horrible thing before I closed it - not knowing truly what I had seen.

There was a naked woman astride my 'fiancé'. I felt like a failure because he had to move around, but I should have seen this coming. I knew we weren't meant for each other and that I had been denying him - this was only natural and mutual. I went to the room and packed my bags, stuffing in every gown and the music from Don Juan. What was I doing? Where was I going to go?

My subconscious was packing as if I would go to Erik and so, I made it that way. I rushed down to the foyer, but just as I had gotten there a knock was at the door. It must have Monsieur Khan - Erik might have passed and that alone was enough to make me bawl. Grabbing my bags, I sniffled up my tears and went outside to see Monsieur Khan - my suspicions were correct, "Mademoiselle," he whispered, "Do you still cry for Erik?"

I wiped my eyes and he continued with a gentle, but hurried laugh, "Erik has gone mad. I know you may not have seen him like this, but he needs care and you are the only person I could think of to make this better. Come. I'll guide you to the gates."

I followed Nadir down to the Rue Scribe, the gates seemingly far away. Erik was mad, but how mad, exactly? And what on Earth was he like during this crazy spree that Nadir explained? I did not wish to know, but I was on the verge of knowing. Erik needed me, was what he said, so I would go to him.

"What exactly is he like during this madness?"

Nadir looked to me wide-eyed and I saw that his hands were shaking. What could have happened, "Watch yourself. During his madness, Erik will go through all lengths to protect himself. I suppose it was a necessary defense mechanism a while ago," we stopped in front of the gates and I felt my stomach tighten - how hard, this would be, "Good luck, Mademoiselle. I hope you bring him peace."

With a nod, I set off through the gates. I heard him screaming - whether in pain or another reason, I had no idea. Going further down to the door on the house, I heard terrible noises and rustling. His feline companion Ayesha stood outside the door and looked up, recognizing me with a soft meow. Things became silent and I left my bags outside the door, cautiously stepping in.

I heard Erik's crying - a soft noise that made me cry as well - and went into the red room. Blood stained the floor and the smell was pure iron - he might have killed someone, but I couldn't tell. I found him at the fireplace with his hands in the coals - a sight that shook me with horror, "Erik?"

When he looked at me, he shook with more fear than I did. He walked over to the cabinet, "Go back to hell, you figment of imagination!"

"Erik, please-"

"I won't fall for it again!" he opened the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of wine, chugging it down - though his limbs were weary and he felt to his knees, breaking the bottle and digging the glass in his hands, "Damn you!"

I dared to take a step closer to him and he shook, throwing himself into a corner. He had glass in his hands and blood covered him in various spots - poor, unhappy Erik, "Please," he cried, "stop tormenting me. Erik knows he is going to hell, just leave him ALONE!"

"Erik," I pulled his back into me and shook hard - he was as fragile as a baby, "Please. It is me."

"No! Erik knows you are fake! Erik knows he will wake up and you will be gone!"

He tried to stand again, but fell onto his back. I heard a crack and he sniffled, but that didn't stop me. I took a cloth from the wine cabinet and ripped it in half, walking towards him slowly, "Please!" he begged, "Please, cruel creature, kill me!"

I shook my head and took one of his hands with the gentlest of care I could muster - Erik was truly mad. I pulled out each chunk of glass and poured alcohol on the hand, feeling him shake at the pain as I wrapped up the cold, bleeding area, "Stop tormenting me," he begged as I used the same care with the other hand.

"Erik, it is me."

"Prove it!"

He shouted at me with his voice weakening by the minute. He needed tender care and a pampering, so I rested my lips on his forehead just like I had before he made me leave. His skin, though rough and smelling of blood, was sweet and reminded me of the things that made him special. I turned him around and laid his head into my chest. He must have felt my warmth, for he cried even more, "Christine?" he sniffled.

"Yes, Erik. I am here."

I grabbed each of his wrapped hands and brought them to my lips, warming his body with mine. What we shared in this moment was possibly the most beautiful thing. He had a soft smile on his face expressing the same joy I felt and I focused on his rising and falling chest. Behind all the heartbreak and sorrow, Erik was just a helpless man. He gazed up to me, the soft smile remaining as he cried, "Erik loves... I love you."