A Light in the Dark

Chapter 10

Chapter 10 Erik's POV

Not being able to move killed my spirit. My lungs felt as if someone had filled them with water, wrung them out, and filled them back up again. The only thing that kept me from going mad was watching Gustave's eyes.

His eyes were like windows. It was almost as if I could sense his every emotion just by looking into them. The more he thought, the more they shifted back and forth. It seemed as though he had a lot to think about tonight.

Sometime around day break, Madame Giry returned with a doctor. With Madame Giry, Gustave, and what little help I could give, they got me to an old dressing room backstage that no one was using at the time and placed me on the settee. The sun was rising out the window, and it occurred to me that I had never seen a sunrise since I lived in France.

As the doctor probed me and checked my heart rate and such, Gustave was frantically trying to explain to the doctor that everything was an innocent accident. The doctor understood and said that there was no reason for him to be so spastic, but I knew Gustave was really trying to convince himself, not the doctor, that this was all an innocent mistake.

The doctor wanted to take my mask off to open up airways and reduce the chance of getting any ash in my eyes. I put my hand there insisting to keep it on, but he insisted that it be removed. He reached out and tried to grab it, but Gustave intercepted his reach and put his hands on my mask.

"He prefers to keep it on," said Gustave.

"My boy, I'm just trying to help him."

"I know, but the only way you can is to leave his mask on."

The doctor nodded and looked at Gustave with sympathy. He continued with what he had to do, and he finished shortly. I acquired a new bandage around my arm and a small variety of medicines on the table beside me.

The doctor left after a short time and told Gustave that I would be fine. He gave a quick summary of my injuries to Madame Giry which consisted of a small patch of burned skin on my left arm, irritated eyes, and a bad case of smoke inhalation. One medicine was a cream for my burn, another drops to flush out my eyes (one of which was hurting immensely), and one for my breathing pains. Madame Giry paid the doctor, and he left.

"How could you be so foolish!" cried Madame Giry. Her comment was directed towards me. I tried to take in enough air to yell at her back, but I immediately went in to a rage of coughing. Each time my chest moved, I felt as if I was being stabbed in the heart.

"Please, leave him alone!" cried Gustave. "It wasn't his fault! It was mine! Stop yelling. You're hurting him. If you want somebody to yell at, yell at me!" With that, Gustave threw himself in the corner and tried to hide his tears.

Madame Giry looked at Gustave with a sudden surprise. "So much like his father," she said, "I am sorry for my words." She left without a sound and closed the door.

Gustave stood up from the corner and came to me. He pulled the mask away from my face, and he did not cringe. Instead, he hugged my arm tightly and said, "Oh, Papa, I'm so sorry this happened. It's all my fault. I'm so ashamed."

I wanted more than anything to tell him that it was alright and he had nothing to be ashamed of, but my attempt failed once again. All that came out of me was more coughing, so instead, I just patted him on the back and hoped he could understand what I meant. Gustave continued to cling to my arm as I stroked his hair with the hand on my bad arm. With each movement, a jolt of pain was sent down my arm, up my spine, and to the pin point of a headache in my head; but I did not really give a care for the pain. I was alright. I would recover, and more importantly, nothing had harmed a hair on my Gustave's head. I was more grateful than upset.

Next thing I knew, I was asleep and seemed to stay this way most of the day and following night. What little time I was awake was when Gustave had woken me up by trying to change the bandage on my arm or telling me that it was time to take a different medicine. This killed my spirit more than anything. I was supposed to be taking care of Gustave. I was to give him all that I had to give, but right now, all I could do was stay and be still. He was taking care of me. He soothed my headaches with cool towels and treated my injuries with loving touches. I saw so much in him the same loving tenderness that Christine had. I wished more than anything that I could have been that loving to her, so I promised myself and Christine in that moment that not only would I give everything that I had to give to Gustave. I would make up for every lost moment, every false word, and every action towards Christine that I regretted so dearly. I was going to be all that I could possibly be for our son, and no one was going to stand in my way.