In the name of our love

6. Home

    Erik mounted Cesar and looked forward. He didn't dare look back at Aref. Although he probably wouldn't be awake yet. Most likely he would still be slumped against that Box Elder tree, dead drunk. He started Cesar in a canter to get away from the mest faresa (drunken Persian).

      Erik couldn't help going into a gallop about 10 yards away from the grove of box elders. It was at this pace that he entered the town where he had spent the first 10 years of his life: Rouen. It hadn't changed a lot since 1850. This surprised him a bit, but he didn't care very much. He didn't really know where he was going until he was in front of the building. He dismounted from Cesar and tied the horses' reigns around the old, tall apple tree out front.

     The house was old and uncared for. It didn't take Erik long to pick the lock of his old house. He coughed a bit as he entered the old dwelling. All the surfaces were coated in a thick layer of dust. He didn't bother to test that, for he could taste it thick in the air.  He walked around the house, forcing back the memories that tried to overwhelm his brain. Erik went straight for the living area where the big, upright piano still stood. The masked man slowly opened the lid, his fingers trembling as he did so. He caressed the keys lightly with his pale thin fingers. He wanted to play so badly, yet he knew the neighbors would hear him and grow suspicious. 

     Oh, Faust! What was he thinking? Neighbors? There was no one in their right mind that would live here. He brushed the keys again before pulling out the bench. It creaked when he sat his anorexic body on it. There was, of course, no sheets on the instrument, but it didn't matter. He had all the music he needed already memorized. 

      His fingers flew across the keys in a piece by Bach. Then he wasn't sure what he was really playing. Then when he did Erik stopped. It was one of his mother's favourites. One of his own composition: Mass of the Lonesome. It was slow, and sad, much like his other pieces had been at the time. Most of his pieces in general were that way. But how could they be otherwise? That was his life. Lonely, unloved, deserted, an object of horror and dislike. 

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     He slowly opened the door to the attic, where his childhood bedroom had been. This had been changed. There was no bed now, only an empty space where it had once been. There was a desk where his bedside table had been. Erik walked over to it slowly, unsure of what he would find upon it. 

    Nothing much, only a few ink pots, pens and a small pile of unused paper. There was no crumpled or deserted pieces to be found. Nothing to say that his mother or father had ever used this. It was, like everything else, covered with dust. But it didn't matter. He brushed it off like he had the piano. He stared at the paper and ink for a long time before sitting on the stool that had been provided for the desk. 

      Then he stared at the paper even longer before finally picking up the pen and dipping it in the ink pot. He put the paper under his left hand before starting to write with his right. 

      Dear Mrs de Chagny,

It has been too long since we last have spoken. It would be too awkward to meet face to face, considering your husband's severe dislike for me. I am writing this letter to apologize to you for all that I have done to you in the past. I hope that you somehow find yourself able to forgive the awful man--the awful corpse--that did these things to you. 

      Erik will not blame you if you choose not to forgive him. 

                                  Sincerely your Angel of Music, 

                                                         Erik

      Erik put the stopper back in the ink pot and put the pen back in its pot. After waiting a few minutes for the ink to dry, he folded the letter and put it in an envelope. 

Mrs. Christine de Chagny. 

Private! 

He labelled the white, uncrinkled surface of the envelope. Then he went outside and gave it to a passing cab, ordering it to be delivered to the de Chagneys as soon as possible.