Twisted Every Way(Phantom Of The Opera Fic)

Chapter 9: Confrontations

As Gustave slept that night he was plagued with a vision of the mask of death, set atop face of fire. All those terrible stories he had heard in whispers from the other children.

He had never understood why mother never joked and laughed about the opera ghost as the other parents did. Why had they never come to see the shows even though mother loved them?

Truth racked Gustave's soul all at once.

He realized that there was no other truth to be found, it was Erik who had cut the chandelier, had haunted and murdered and stalked his prey in these walls.

Hate and righteous indignation crept into his heart. Hate for his mother to love such a man. Horror at her judgment and clearly disturbed reasoning.

Even more so came a hatred for Erik. Not so much for the kind man, his mother had remarried but for the monster, he knew his father once had been. An aversion for everything he stood for.

 Would Erik hurt him? What if he lost his temper beyond his control? And now that they had returned...the people of Paris were playing on his grounds. Playing in the den of a lion, unaware he was awakening slowly.

Gustave didn't speak, silence plagued his days. What was there that he was left to say?

Yet, with all his fear, he knew he couldn't live like this, not if his suspicions were correct. One day all would come to light.

Over the next week or so the couple watched as Gustave slowly drifted away. He ate less, talked hardly at all, and never touched the piano. It was a mystery to both what had happened.

"He just needs time," Christine told Erik softly, "We couldn't expect him to adapt so fast. The pain I've caused him, I'm determined to set it right. But all in time."

And that was all that was said on the matter of Gustave's strange behavior.

After one particularly long day, Erik collapsed into his chair. He had sought out work as a night watch for the opera, but an in-person interview was demanded despite the many notes and character references he had sent.

So Many days had fallen away with nothing to show. And while funds were put away safely and of a considerable sum, Erik knew for the sake of security he would have to find work soon, or start haunting again. 

How unfair that his world kept tumbling down, cloaked over with seemingly dark clouds that covered peace.

Closing his eyes- His Christine was a young child, studying in the dormitories of the Ballett, Gustave was at the small piano, his heritage exposed for the first time.         

And if he concentrated hard and long enough, Erik could believe he was still the young man trying to be optimistic about the cruelty of his circumstances. 

Eyes opened, and dreams faded, Erik was reminded that even as a child he had been trapped in the quicksand of hate.

Today he had lost too much, too much was wrong to simply disappear into his thoughts.

So Erik did what he always did.

He turned to music.

"Christine," he asked finally after using every last drop of the black quill and ink in front of him, "I'm out of ink, would you collect some for me?"

She gave a small nod and went on her way.

He was composing when Gustave entered the doorway.

The boy looked troubled.

"Gustave, what's been wrong with you? You haven't been yourself for days!" Erik scolded, he collected his papers together in slight frustration.

He couldn't even keep his son happy let alone himself.

"I know about you," Gustave stated coldly.

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, his blood freezing cold in his veins.

"I know you killed people and watched them die. That you lured them and hanged them, and showed no pity or mercy when it was begged." Gustave accused harshly.

His eyes glistened not only with fear but with strong determination. They looked like Christine's eyes.

"Its not your face you hide from the world is it?! It's in your soul, there true distortion lies."

Erik recoiled, had this been the words spoken to him so long ago? He thought those days behind him. Yet here he stood once more, judged and condemned at the small hands of his savior.

Yet it wasn't that accusation that bruised his honor, he feared the look in Gustave's eyes, the anger, and the fire.

What more was there to say? What could be said of his past? He knew himself enough to not become angry, after all, how could he be? More than anything Erik was terrified, terrified of losing Gustave to the darkness of his past.

"So you don't deny it then?!" Gustave said raising his voice. "You do not deny such evil?"

Erik looked down, face full of shame, his voice grew low stern and dark.

"I won't lie to you Gustave." Erik said as he stood up awkwardly and started walking towards his son.

"Don't," Gustave whispered with almost utter disgust. "Don't come near me. I should have never come here. "

"Gustave?" Christine asked emerging from the stairwell, "Darling are you well? You look ill."

"Go, go and leave me," Gustave spat angrily, turning his back on all he had ever loved and walking silently to his room.

Christine looked to Erik in a fright.

"What happened?!" She cried out as Erik stressfully paced the room.

Erik's eyes looked up, full of horror and pain.

"He knows."