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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
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Having said our goodbyes to Cesar and seen him comfortably attended to, Maddy and I made our way back to my home for what would be our final hours together. It was still quite early, no one yet stirred in the Opera Populaire, and our brisk evening out had left us feeling slightly chilled. Luckily, among my modest comforts were a small woodstove, a second hand kettle from Madame Giry and a fine assortment of herbal teas. I excused myself politely and went about preparing the tea, taking care to add just a nip of brandy to each cup, and joined my guest on the settee.

She was wrapped in my cloak, her face still pink from the cool night air (among other things). I handed her a cup and she took it like a child in both hands and instinctively blew into it, the steam swirling about her face. I settled beside her, opening my arms so that she could rest back against me, and quietly we nursed our hot tea and warmed each other.

“I don’t have to leave,” she said suddenly after a sip of her tea. I felt my heart jolt and she must have felt it for she turned and looked directly at me. “If you want me to stay, Erik, I will.”

I nearly dropped my cup my hands started trembling so badly. The instinct to flee from her and gather my emotions was strong, but I found it an impossible option. She was still leaning against me, situated between my legs and cradled still in my arms. And as if that was not enough, her sweet eyes pinioned me to the spot, refusing to let me avoid them.

“No,” I said almost imperceptibly. My eyes fell to my tea and I stared hard into the depths of the liquid, thinking how remarkably like her warm brown eyes it was. I struggled for a moment, caught between what I wanted and what I knew to be the right course of action. To keep her hear would mean not only that our every waking moment would be spent in quiet company with one another, and that our sleeping hours would be spent wrapped together in unconscious bliss. No. It would mean denying her the existence she so deserved. It would mean forcing her into a secretive life, one that was hardly fit for a human.

“You don’t want me to stay?” I heard the slight waver in her voice and looked up at once into her sorrowful eyes. I choked back the painful swell of emotion that lodged in my throat and pulled her to me, mindful of our teacups.

“More than anything,” I replied honestly into her soft hair. “But more than my desire for you to stay is my desire for you to go. My life here is not meant for one such as you. My heart will break everyday that you are gone, but I fear it would pain me a hundred times over to see you here. This is no place for a creature of light.”

She said nothing in reply, just sighed softly and stayed close to my beating heart. I leaned forward, holding her tight, took our cups and set them on the floor beside the settee. Then I gathered her more comfortably, both of us shifting until we were snugly lying together, she resting solidly like a warm cat stretched against the length of my body. I stroked her back over and over, letting my hand follow the path of her spine.

“Cesar enjoyed his exercise tonight,” I said in a soft voice, wanting to ease her mind and my own suffering heart. I thought fondly of my friend and wished I could set him free in the same way I was about to set Madeleine free. I continued caressing her back and bent again to kiss the top of her head. She pressed closer to me and made a noise that could only be accurately described as a purr.

“I feel such pity for the horses here,” her voice was muffled and drowsy. “I wish I could set them all free. It seems criminal for them to be locked away underground. Nothing can live like that.”

She stopped abruptly, and I could feel her heart rate increase and her body stiffen at the realization of what she had just said. I smiled to myself and my hand continued its journey along her back, my thumb swiping out and rubbing her gently.

“I didn’t mean…” she hastily added. She tried to straighten up to look at me but I pressed her against my chest.

“Shhhh,” I quieted her. “You are quite right. It is criminal, and it is the reason I cannot, no matter how desperately I want to, allow you to stay here. I would not have that weight on my conscience for all the money in Paris. Monster or no, I still have a conscience.”

She did sit up then, and looked incredulously into my eyes. “Monster?” she sounded almost furious. But her eyes were searching and her small hand came to my marred cheek and touched me with the utmost tenderness. “Not a monster, Erik. A man. A strong, warm, vibrant, living man. You are just as undeserving of this hell as Cesar or I. Can you not see that?”

I did not even try to suppress the tears. They flowed freely from my burning eyes and I bowed my head and wept like a child. Maddy held me gently, whispering little words of reassurance and stroking my hair like a concerned mother would her wounded babe. Her tenderness undid me, and I clasped my arms around her and held on for all I was worth, sobbing into her neck and letting years of pain flow from my poor soul. The harder I wept the tighter she held me until I felt my body emptied and fatigued from the outpour of emotion. I sighed against her, letting the last traces of strangled sobs subside.

It was only when I sat back from her, taking both of her small hands into mine and kissing each one that I caught sight of a moving shape over her shoulder, swiftly brushing along the far bank of the lake.

Madame Giry had come to collect her new assistant.

I hastily struggled to regain my composure, and Maddy, recognizing my gaze, turned to see what had caused the sudden change in my demeanor. She too smoothed a hand over her hair and pulled my cloak around her in a modest gesture. I stood reluctantly, refusing to look her in the eye, held out my hand to her in formality and ushered her from the settee to the boat that waited to carry her away from me forever.

Polling across the lake, I could feel rather than see the disapproval radiating from my old friend. She stood with her back straight and her arms crossed, waiting rather impatiently for our arrival. Maddy sat motionless; her tiny shoulders slumped beneath the weight of my cloak. I realized that she had nothing else beneath it but one of my shirts, and a strange feeling of warmth coursed through me at the thought that she would have something to remember me by. I noted, however that Madame Giry had had the foresight to bring along a cloak, it was folded over her crossed arms. She watched with a steely gaze as we approached.

No sooner had I helped Maddy from the boat then Madame Giry whisked my cloak from her shoulders. A slight glimmer of displeasure flashed in her face as she noticed my own shirt on the woman’s small body, but nevertheless she quickly shrouded her in the new cloak, handing mine back to me without bothering to look my way.

“I am Madame Giry,” she said with no emotion whatsoever. “You are homeless, are you not?”

“Yes Madame,” Maddy replied, her eyes ducked and she looked piteously up at me. I was no help, myself humbled in the formidable presence of Madame Giry. I longed to reach out and touch her for reassurance, but dared not.

“Your name, child?” The question was curt and delivered down the slant of a wary upturned nose.

“Madeleine, Madame,” Maddy answered. She tried to look her new employer in the eye but could not. The weight of the scrutinizing stare was enough to unnerve anyone, and I felt pity for the girl. I stood well over a foot taller than Madame Giry, myself, yet had always felt small when confronted with her.

“Well, Madeleine,” the tone had softened slightly now. “Arrangements have been made for you to take a position with me. You will have room and board and a small stipend as payment for a hard day’s work. How does that suit you?”

“Very well, Madame.” Maddy gave a slight curtsy and bobbed her head in respect.

“Good then.” Madame Giry now turned her eyes on me and I cleared my throat, feeling not the least bit confident. “Say goodbye to her Erik, quickly.” And at this she turned her back and walked out of sight, stopping, I assumed, just around the corner in the corridor that led up and out of my home.

Maddy turned to me and I could see how frightened she was. She looked pale and her hands were trembling like frail leaves when I took them into mine. I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her and pressing her head to my chest.

My heart ached so dreadfully that I thought sure it would kill me. I bent and lifted her chin so I could look one last time into her wide brown eyes. Her face was tear stained and she was gasping for breath as her little fingers still clutched at my shirt. She stood on tip toe just as I bowed my head to her and our lips met in the most delicate and innocent kiss.

“Go,” I whispered against her cheek. “You will be alright.”

“What about you?” Her voice cracked with a sob and I swiftly brushed a tear from her cheek with my thumb. Touched by her concern for my welfare I smiled down at her as I continued to cherish the soft skin of her cheek.. I did not say anything in response, for there was no time. Madame Giry cleared her throat and before I knew it, Madeleine had been tugged away from me and had disappeared into the blackness of the corridor.

I stood for some time, motionless and in shock, as though I had been bodily ripped apart and left to die. I was trembling fiercely, my hands were cold, and the force of grief that tortured my spirit threatened to strike me down where I stood. Somehow though, I managed to turn and walk to the lake. I stepped carefully into the boat and pushed away from the shore with the long staff. The candles of my home were bright blurs beyond the tear-filled haze of my sad eyes. I returned to my home with the words Maddy had spoken to me echoing in my ears.

“Not a monster, Erik. A man. A strong, warm, vibrant, living man. You are just as undeserving of this hell as Cesar or I. Can you not see that?”

And for the first time in my life I thought, perhaps I could.
- 14
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- 16
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Memoirs of a Monster