The choices we made

Chapter 7.

* Christine

When I woke up, I reached out to turn on the  light.

The artificial light scattered around the room.

My thoughts went back to the moment the night after the nightmare, when Erik came to my room and offered to plug in the electricity*. I remember how I initially assured him that he didn't have to do it for my sake, but he wouldn't let me convince him. When I finally gave up, Erik got to work right away.

Now, a few days later, I was enjoying the artificial light source.

The quiet ticking of the clock was the only source of sound echoing through the room. I glanced at the white baroque clock that stood on the dresser. The clocks hands showed a few minutes past seven.

Stretching slightly, I rose from the bed to a sitting position. The bed creaked.

I slowly put my feet on the fluffy carpet lying under the bed. I put on my slippers, grabbed the edge of the bed and stood up.

I shifted my weight to the left side to relieve my right ankle. My ankle still hurt, but fortunately the swelling I had, had gone down.

I headed to the bathroom connected to my room. After I finished, I went to the sink. Above the sink hung the only mirror I had noticed in Erik's entire house. It was a medium-sized mirror with a thick, square frame.

A woman covered in small wounds and blisters on her face was looking at me from the mirror. My skin was burned red from my left cheek along my neck to my chest.

Despite the fact that I applied Erik's ointment to the redness every day, the burn refused to heal. I was starting to worry that my skin would never heal.

I returned to my room and went to the wardrobe. I opened it and pulled out a dress in a beige shade. It was modest, perfect for walking around in the privacy of the house.

After a moment of reflection, I returned to the bathroom to wash myself.

I hadn't bathed in over a week, because I was too weak, but today I decided to change that.

I turned on the hot water tap and waited for the tub to fill with water.

It was still hard for me to believe that Erik had managed to connect the pipes so that he could have hot water. Most of Paris could still only dream of that.

I put my left foot in the tub and, holding on to the tub with all my strength, shaking, I moved my right foot into the tub as well. With a quiet groan, I submerged myself in the delicious water.

As I washed myself, I let my thoughts wander.

I wondered once again time what Raoul was doing. Was he worried about me? Was he looking for me? I tried to ask Erik to inform Raoul or at least Madame Giry that I was okay, but he flatly refused. He justified himself by saying that it was unwise and dangerous.

Apparently, the opera house fire had started various riots in the city. The police tried, unsuccessfully, to control the people. Erik had also heard that the police were summoning all the artists and spectators present at the performance for questioning.

Erik promised that when I recovered, he would take me upstairs and that I would be with Raoul again.

So I decided to let the subject drop for a while.

Despite this, I couldn't help but think about Raoul, Madame, and Meg.

*****

I headed towards Erik's kitchen, which, to my surprise, was quite well equipped, considering the conditions. Several dark cabinets hung next to each other, a kitchen with two burners and a stove stood against the wall. In the middle of the kitchen stood a table with four chairs. I wanted to ask Erik why he needed so many chairs, but I refrained. That would be rude of me. A certain thought occurred to me that maybe he was trying to convince himself, that he was living a "normal" life? That one day he would have guests? I felt a surge of sympathy for him at that thought.