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Memoirs of a Monster	By : Luv Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2993 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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The whispered request of the lovely form in my arms sent me reeling and likewise, I bolted immediately from the bed. Having been deposited unceremoniously onto the floor, Madeleine stared up at me through bewildered eyes. My hand had instinctively gone to my face again, shielding it from view. I stumbled awkwardly across to where my mask still lay by the bank of the lake. I picked it up, knowing it would not adhere properly, but needing it just the same. I reluctantly lowered my hand, and groped my only known security, turning it again and again in my fingers nervously as I paced the edge of the water. From the corner of my eye, I could make out Maddy’s form rising from where I had so rudely left her, but I dared not look her way. She approached tentatively, her steps halting and unsure. At last I could avoid her no longer, she was nearly within reach, and I stopped my incessant walking but still fidgeted with the mask, my fingers never ceasing to turn the thing, caressing the memorized contours of its edge. I looked at her, a mixed feeling of regret and embarrassment welling up in my chest.

“Have I offended you?” For the second time she asked the question with such a quiet respect for my feelings that I was torn between laughing at the absurdity and crying at the sincerity of the words. Offend me? My face must have betrayed the thoughts in my mind, for a faint glimmer of a smile curved the corners of her mouth. She dared to step closer, her body merely inches from mine. She looked up into my face, her confidence returned, and without looking down her hands stilled the mask and deftly removed it from my grasp. “You won’t need this,” she said wryly with a grin. Then she turned her attention to the mask, examining it, turning it over and running her fingers along the underside. I made an attempt to talk, but the words stuck in my throat and I choked instead. Ignoring me, she raised the mask and pressed it against her own face, as though to wear it.

“No!” The word flew from me without my realizing it; a loud bellow of disapproval that echoed off the stone walls and the still lake. Maddie shied at my outburst, the mask falling from her face and hitting the stone beneath our feet at once. I bent and swiped it, then stood back and leveled her with a disbelieving glare. It is difficult to explain the sensation, never had I seen anyone do such a thing! For though I wore the mask daily, though I was sentenced to a life hidden behind an imaginary visage, to see a perfect creature of God willingly cover up her face was blasphemy in the highest degree. I felt a wave of sickness at the very idea, and though Madeleine surely thought me angry at her, nothing could have been further from the truth. I told her as much, working quickly to win back her delicate trust.

Slowly she came back to me, moving imperceptibly closer until we were all but touching, our heartbeats near enough to be heard by the other, our breath mingled and warm in such close proximity. I no longer fidgeted with the infernal mask, it hung from my hand motionless, as Madeleine worked to also reassure me, her small hands lightly coming to rest on my chest, her angelic face tilted up to mine (how she could stand to be so close is beyond me), beaming with adoration. I wondered briefly when God had decided to allow me back into his good graces. Looking into the beautiful young face, and seeing myself reflected in her eyes as nothing short of flawless and deserving, I sent up my humble thanks to the Almighty.

“You didn’t like seeing me wear the mask?” she asked astutely. I admit I was caught off guard, I had not realized how transparent I was. I shook my head ‘no’, robbed of the ability to speak due to her right hand which had snaked around the back of my neck. Her little fingers were combing through the back of my hair, sending shivers down my spine. “I feel the same,” she said allowing her other hand to ghost over my twisted cheek, “when you wear it.”

This seemed an entirely ludicrous thing for someone who had only known me without the benefit of the mask for a matter of minutes. I tried to protest her point, but once again found myself at a disadvantage, this time owing to her soft lips stopping my speech. (My speech, my breath, my heart…they all stopped.) She kissed me silently into submission, and then took me by the hand, with the self-assurance of an experienced lover and led me back to the bed.

The mask, I would discover later, had fallen from my hand. It was to remain there, lying forgotten by the still lake for the remainder of the night.
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Memoirs of a Monster