The Final Lair

Erik's POV

Everything was happening so fast. The unmasking, the gun shot, the screaming, the escaping. Christine would be mine, and I would see to it that no one would interfere. I dragged Christine down to my lair.

"Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind. Down that path into darkness deep as hell!" I shouted as I pulled on her small, fragile wrists. "Why you ask was I bound in chains in this cold and dismal place? Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!" She yelped when I gripped tighter at her wrists. I didn't mean to hurt her. The voices, I could hear the voices calling me a murderer! "Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere. No kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere.... Christine, why? Why?"

My Christine would never understand. All she knew was that my face was hideous and that was enough to keep her from loving me. I couldn't change that about her. It didn't take me long to realise that I couldn't change someone.

Down in my lair, I had the wedding dress prepared. I stripped it off the mannequin and said to Christine, "Put it on or I'll have to dress you myself!" I didn't want to put Christine though his, but she left me no choice. She just sat at the my foot crying. She was really trying my patience!

"Fine then! I'll do it for you," I growled gruffly. Christine flinched and cried throughout the whole process. I immediately grabbed her and began stripping her Aminta dress off. Trying to ignore her body, I focused on the clothing. At least she wore a light chemise underneath so she wasn't completely bare to me. It was a struggle to get her into the dress, but I succeeded. Next was lacing and tightening the corset. With every lace I pulled and tied, Christine yelped or cried. I felt like the devil hurting her. But it was almost over.

When I finished, Christine immediately leapt up to look outside the portcullis, but no one was there yet. She screamed and collapsed on the floor for some reason as I followed her out and then asked, "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?" I made no reply. "Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"

How dare she even think I would force myself on her! I would rather die at the hands of Joseph Buquet than sleep with Christine without her consent. Besides, it would never be consensual. My face would keep her mortified enough to not even let me kiss her.

"That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood has also denied me the joys of the flesh!" I sneered, walking closer toward her. I leaned down to her level, my face in her face, but she dared not move. "This face, the infection which poisons our love."
She stayed there looking at me, until she couldn't bear the sight anymore and turned away repulsed. I backed away, hurt. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes and breathed.

"This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing." I looked to the ceiling, horrible memories filling my mind of my mother beating me, smacking a mask on my face. "A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing." I looked back at Christine who had stood up and was about to touch me. She pitied me! It was almost laughable.

"Pity comes too late! Turn around and face your fate!" I pushed her round and roughly placed the bridal veil on her head, making her flinch and almost grasp her head in pain. I walked in front of her pulled her to me, the malformed side centimetres away from her face. "An eternity of this before your eyes!"

Christine stood there, cooperative. "This haunted face holds no horror for me now." I looked at her. Perfect, but something was missing. I turned around and took the bouquet of flowers and made her hold it. She looked me in the eye to get me attention. "It's in your soul that the true distortion lies!"

It's hurt my soul to hear that she felt that way about me, but now there seemed to be more important matters. I sensed the footsteps of a man in the water.