From Shadows to Starlight

Making Plans

Chapter Twenty

“They’re schemers, schemers trying to control their own little worlds…” --

The Joker, from The Dark Knight

Making Plans

Utterly exhausted from the previous day’s events and a terrible lack of sleep--he hadn’t slept since the stay in Rouen--Erik had collapsed immediately onto the couch the moment he returned to the Girys’ apartment. In spite of his extreme exhaustion, he could not stay asleep. He tossed and turned through endless dreams and nightmares, often waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing. He was tortured by the faces of the people he’d murdered, and by the faces of the love he’d lost and the one she’d chosen over him. Sometimes in his dark dream world he caught glimpses of light, felt a warm hand in his. Someone was there with him, helping him through the mad maze of torment, but there was always something else there, making him unable to see that someone clearly.

Madame Giry and her daughter woke early in the morning and prepared for their day of work, watching as he tossed back and forth. They both said a prayer for him, that he could be at peace, and also that his nightmares would not make him cry out too loudly and risk his being discovered. They quietly exited the apartment, leaving him muttering and moaning in his sleep.

Though he kept waking, Erik stayed where he was, trying to rest, until the middle of the afternoon, when he was unable to take it anymore. He rose, bathed, dressed, and ate a little bit of bread and drank a few glasses of wine, then set out to write some simple sheet music for Alana, as he’d promised the night before. At first he worked feverishly, writing down the music for as many classic and popular songs as he could think of, but in time his restless mind began to wander. His thoughts drifted to Alana; what she was doing now, how she would feel about tonight’s lesson, the way she would respond to the music he gave her, how well she would sing for him, how she would look, even. But as he sat at the kitchen table, his eyes moved from the paper, out the small window before him to the clean streets and little gardens behind all the fine houses in Parc de Seigneurs. His thoughts floated away across the city, searching, as if he could really find what he was wishing for.

Christine, where are you?

The question repeated itself over and over in his head. He swore he could almost see her there, walking in the street, looking up at him in the window, coming to him…

But he knew it was nothing but his imagination playing a cruel trick on him. She would never come back to him. He forced himself to push back the feelings of anger, bitterness, and miserable loneliness that came upon him whenever he thought of her, and tried to focus on writing the music, thinking of the lesson. He enjoyed being able to play the piano and organ again, and the fact that he was able to teach someone again should have filled him with happiness, even joy. After all, music and teaching were his life’s passions. And spending time with Alana…for once in his life, he had what he now believed he could call a true friend…that was something very special indeed. But now, as he tried to picture her, countless, haunting images of Christine flashed through his mind, and he could see nothing else.

Evening came and at last, Erik finished his work. He had a massive stack of sheet music for Alana, as well as his own commentaries on the pieces, with background information about the songs and composers, as well as hints and exercises to help her play them, or sing them, with greater ease. He was busy placing them in a case when the door opened.

His whole body tensed, and he was instantly ready to fight or flee if he had to. But it was only Madame Giry.

“Good evening,” she said, lighting the gas lamps in the front room. “Are you feeling well?”