The Prisoner (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction)

Chapter 16

Erik's POV:

She... accepted. This beautiful, beautiful angel will stay! Willingly! Oh, I don't believe I have ever been happier. I watched from the shadows as she gathered her belongings into a small bag, quickly hugged and curtsied to the Girys, and turned towards me. I took her hand once more. That fact alone had amazed me. She was letting me touch her. Sure, I had told her the passages could mean death, but nonetheless, I could barely contain myself. I led her down, more careful than ever to make sure she got to my domain safely. I was disabling a trap when I heard it.

"Thank you."

She said it so meekly, it was if the Renee from before our fight was back. I turned and looked at her skeptically, knowing my mask hid my features. "You're welcome, mademoiselle. I hope you got everything you needed."

She laughed a bit, then said, "Yes, I did. I... I'm sorry for what... uh, what happened just then."

I quickly finished disabling the trap and went to stand near her. What a grand feeling, to be near her! "You needn't be sorry, my child. You couldn't have controlled the Girys' meddling." I said the last word malice, but soon after regretted it. She didn't talk for the rest of our walk, although neither did I.

At last, a hidden door swung open, and I led her into my house on the lake. I released her hand, because, unfortunately, I no longer had a reason to do so. I watched as she quickly went and stored her things in her room and came back to me, seeming a bit more confident than before.

"I... I've been thinking... Since I'm a 'guest' now, I should do something -for you, that is- so I can, earn my keep, in a way."

I was shocked. She felt the need to earn her keep? Why did she feel so indebted to a monster that abused her? I honestly thought I could never make up for what I did, but this girl...

"I can clean, cook, although that would be more for me, but for you too! I can sew..."

"No." I needed her to stop. She couldn't do this. "You decide to stay with a monster that has abused you. I... I can't repay you enough. Please... think of this as at least my attempt to."

"Why would you repay me? I was your prisoner! That's how that's supposed to work! You sound as though you think me staying is a bad idea!"

I moved closer to her, and grabbed her shoulders. I leaned down so that I was eye-level with her, but not close. In fact, I pulled away from her quite a bit.

"It was. It was a horrible, stupid mistake! I can barely control myself sometimes! But please, for the little I am worth, please do not leave. If that man... that... that monster hurts you, I would be unable to stand myself."

"You call both yourself and him a monster, but only one of you have truly hurt me. Why do I mean so much to you? Is this because of my mother? Because I am not her, and never will be."

I looked into her gorgeous green eyes, the eyes that had distracted me from the moment I met her. "No, my dear, you are so much more. Your mother would never allow me to touch her, and here you stand, as though my cold, skeletal hands do not scare you." I quickly removed my hands from her shoulders. "You allowed me to hold your hand, twice! And did not so much as flinch! You have shown me more kindness than I have ever known, and that, that, is why you mean so much to me."

"Why should your hands scare me?" She said softly. Her eyes were puzzled.

I knew I had to tell her the truth. But, I was afraid of her reaction. She would leave me, when she learned what I truly was. "These hands..." I said, looking at them, "They have killed, without remorse. They strangled and cut and shot. They have built horrid contraptions to torture some and entertain others. These hands nearly blew up half of Paris. These hands tortured you father. These hands... These hands tied up your mother because she would rather die than stay with me." Tears were falling out of my eyes and under my mask, but I could not bring myself to cry. Not in front of her.

She did not speak. We stood still and silent for what seemed an eternity. Then, to my utmost surprise, she tentatively walked forward and gently grabbed my hands. I looked at her, studying her expression.

"I have never seen so much ,regret' in a persons eyes. Please, let me help you around here. I mean, for God's sake, I don't know if there's ever been a broom in here!" she laughed a bit, light-heartedly. "Think about it, is all I suppose I can say. Oh, and your cloak has a small tear. I could patch that up before it gets any bigger." With that, she smiled at me, released my hands, and returned to her room.

I could not speak. I could not move. I cannot express in words how I felt, how relieved, how happy, and, dare I say it, empowered. I needed to compose. To translate these emotions into song. I sat my organ and began to play, as though my fingers had a mind of their own. I soon was sitting breathlessly with a new piece of music. From the other room, I could hear the soft thunking noise of pointe shoes. I knocked on her door, hoping she would let me see her dancing.

"Come in!" I heard her cry softly from inside.

She was gorgeous, her hair up in a ballet bun, with a soft pink leotard and skirt, the same color as her shoes. It was a gorgeous sight, especially since she was doing waltzes and balancées and leaps across the floor.

"You're beautiful." I breathed. I couldn't help it. Hell, I didn't even know I had said it until she turned and looked at me. "Pardon?"

"You're doing beautifully." I quickly covered.

"Thank you. Have you thought about it? I heard you composing, it was gorgeous."

I chuckled. "Thank you, my dear. Yes, I have thought about it. You may clean and sew and cook or whatever else you please, just don't feel obligated to do so."

"Thank you!" she excitedly said, while bouncing up and down in her pointe shoes.

"I just have one question."

"Go ahead."

"Madame Giry mentioned you were legally wed to Christopher." I watched as her face paled considerably. She cleared her throat, and sat down on the bed.

"I... Well, I suppose this is nothing compared to what you already know," she said with a forced laugh. "After... the incident I last told you about... he... he forced me to marry him. He threatened to kill me if I didn't act like a happy, excited bride. He found a dress that would cover my bruises. It wasn't much of a wedding, no reception, just a quick, little ceremony with my father and a few of Christopher's buddies. Afterwards, we went home and... and..." Her voice cracked, and I could see tears in her eyes.

"You don't have to tell me anymore. I... can assume." she looked at me and nodded thankfully. She rose from the bed, and started walking towards me. I assumed she was going to brush by me, go to the bathroom or the kitchen or something, imagine my surprise when she embraced me, crying into my chest.

What have you done? You should have known a question such as that would make her angry, or upset, or-

"He will find me! I know it! I cannot escape the wretched man, he has made me his slave!" She yelled into my chest. I tentatively reached forward and stroked her hair with on hand, putting my other between her shoulder blades. She looked up at me with red eyes.

"I cannot escape. He has made me his by law, and therefore can take me whenever he pleases."

I looked down at her with determined eyes. "I will not allow that to happen. You are here for my protection, protection I shall give until my dying breath, if need be. I will kill him before I see him hurt you." I gingerly placed one of my hands on the bottom of her chin. "Believe me. He will not hurt you again."

"Thank you." she said with a raspy voice.

"You need to sleep. You are exhausted, I can tell." I let go of her and headed for the door. "Goodnight, my dear."

"Goodnight, Erik."

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I'M BACK, BITCHES. Spoiler: I may or may not be working on a modern day Erik/Christine story... 

Your obedient servant,

~Rose