Persephone's Angel

Sprain

--* By mid--day Abelia had given me wooden crutches so that I may be mobile. After an hour or two of practicing them by pacing about the rooms, I felt I mastered it. Abelia said she would call the doctor in an hour or so; after Erik learnt of what happened. I had no idea why she wanted to wait until Erik knew, but, it didn't bother me, I would get to see my Erik!

Half an hour after this I heard the soft padding of ballet dancer feet and quick steps I identified as my Erik's. I smiled and the door was thrown open; I stood behind the couch and smiled as he entered the room, he wore a black, floppy hat, a black suit, black, nicely polished shoes, his black cloak, and shiny, white, half mask. He took a few steps inside and I hobbled around the couch; I must have, indeed, appeared pitiful for he rushed to me and took me up in his arms, rocking me back and forth and holding me close. He sang to me and swore he would kill the very man responsible in the worst ways imaginable. "Who hurt you and how?"

Asked Erik; I sighed and explained everything to him, from when Abelia and I arrived onstage to a few moments beforehand. 

Erik's grip on me tightened, his eyes narrowed, and he listened decidedly carefully. By the end of explaining the incident Erik was pacing quickly about the room; he yelled at the ballet dancers to leave, and, when they did not....he tore off his mask.

They screamed and shrieked and ran out as fast as their little legs could carry them! Some girls even started weeping in fear! He returned his mask to his face and turned to me; it seemed he was possessed! His eyes, oh, his eyes! They were a seething bright yellow which was a contrast from his hair which seemed to grow blacker as the minutes passed!

His shoulders were elevated and he ripped off his black gloves; throwing them into the hearth and allowing the fire to swallow them, stich by stich. His hands were large and his fingers were long; very long, the size of a quill pen, each and every one of them! His hands adorned lengthy, but clean, fingernails. The fire burned a hellish red as he mumbled and cackled to himself; pacing in the space before me.

Whilst he spoke to himself he made hand gestures; it was as if someone unseen stood in the kitchen and was giving him tips on things to do to M. Devere. He would laugh manically and an evil smirk would drawn upon his lips; I was a little afraid, but, he wouldn't hurt me.

Right?

 Right! He would never dream of hurting me! He said so himself!

He turned away from me and hunched over; his breathing was irritated and he held some type of rope. I blinked in confusion....where did he get the rope? One cannot stuff a whole length of rope into their shirt! I started to feel something strange manifest in my gut and crawl beneath my skin; it was a feeling of eeriness.

Perhaps I should've left with the ballet girls.

I attempted to stand, using the crutch, but was only successful on falling back onto the couch; Erik heard my struggle and turned quickly, snapping out of the strange bubbling wrath that once tightly clenched him beneath its fingers. He hurried to me and sat beside me on the couch; he didn't say anything, he just stared at me and twirled my hair between his fingers. He paused for a moment and pulled his hands away from me, staring at them, his eyes were wide and fearful, as if he finally realized what he did. He frantically jumped up from the couch and ran to the hearth; reaching his hands forwards, into the fire.

"Erik! No!" I cried, moving forwards, dropping my crutches and landing on my knees. He held the scraps of the once leather gloves; quickly throwing them to the ground and running to my rescue. He helped me back up onto the couch and stomped on the hot scraps that were once part of his gloves.

He stared sadly down at them and sighed; I outstretched my arms to him, a motion that told him to come near me, but, he did not. In stead he shook his head and walked away.

Oh, no, he wasn't going to do this again!

I wanted cuddle time and that's just what I was going to get!

"Erik....Erik, get back over here, now." I said, Erik paused before the door and slowly turned.

"My angel--"

"No, no, no. Last time when I needed you, you were off doing something else; that's not going to happen again. Remember? You promised me you would stay with me, and, I need you now." I said, he looked uncertainly down to his hands and then back up to me; it was as if he were ashamed of them.

"Please" I whispered "I need you, Erik" I finished; that was his breaking point. He walked back over to me and sat with me on the couch; though, he hid his hands from my vision.

--* The doctor's verdict was that I severely sprained my ankle. He said just because I felt it pop doesn't mean that I broke it; like I suspected that I did.

He also said it would take a while to heal; he suspected four weeks.

I deflated.

Four weeks?! That means, I couldn't be Primadonna!

At least, not for four weeks.

Erik stood beside me and patted my hand; kissing it every so often and giving a smile to me.

--* When we returned to the Palais Garnier, however, things took a turn for the worse. Erik wouldn't allow me to walk on my own; he carried me everywhere. He carried me bridal style back into the Palais Garnier whilst Abelia padded along slowly behind us, struggling to carry my crutches. In this moment I heard a voice, a sickening voice; a voice I spit at. "There he is!" Abelia said excitedly from behind us.

"Who?" Erik asked, staring Devere down.

"Vicomte Devere Leon" I said breathlessly. Erik gave a low growl and narrowed his eyes; his grip loosened and then he turned to Abelia and nodded. She placed my crutches on the ground and opened her arms; Erik transferred me over to Abelia's arms and then rolled up his sleeves. Abelia began to walk me away from the scene; but, I did a strange twist that cracked my back and caught sight of a black rope in my Erik's hands as he advanced towards M. Devere.   

--* I didn't see Erik until Abelia freed me that night, it was around midnight and I, alone, hobbled down the stairs to the fifth cellar; after all, it was my home down here now. When I arrived I saw him sitting on the ledge with his trouser legs rolled up to his knees; his feet were dangling in the water and he smoked a cigarette. He turned when he heard me approach.

He was covered in blood.

His once white, cotton shirt was stained with crimson splatters and a few hand marks; his trousers were no different. His shirt was torn in several places, otherwise, besides his weariness, everything appeared normal. I hurried over to him and, with a slight struggle, took a seat next to him; Erik threw the cigarette in the lake. "What did you do to him?" I asked and he sighed.

"Nothing that you would like to know about, my love." Said he, pushing me gently backwards and laying on top of me, kissing me softly and twirling a strand of my hair. I smiled and the once light kiss turned into a more intense kiss of passion; I marveled at his sudden change in behavior.

Who know killing someone once in a while boosts romantic drive!  

(A/N)

Sorry if this chapter isn't what you all expected; its another fluffy chapter. Major stuff will happen in the next! I promise! Haha. I hope you've enjoyed this story so far! I would more than love to know your favorite characters/scenes! That is all :)