Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

12: In Which Erik Comforts a Hormonal Girl

Christine

By the time I got back to Erik's home, I knew something was wrong. My stomach and my head ached, and I realized with horror that my cycle was due.

The onset of each cycle, for me, was a Russian Roulette. Most of the time the symptoms were manageable, but occasionally my first day or two of bleeding consisted of agonizing pain.

I walked past Erik at the organ as calmly as I could, trying to appear as if everything was normal. The moment he was out of sight, I rushed into my bathroom and pulled up the skirt of my dress, revealing a small sticky mess on my stockings. Another cramp wracked my body, and I clutched my abdomen until it passed. Of course my first period in a new century couldn't be a tame one!

Erik knocked on the door and asked if I was ready for our lesson. I yelled at him to give me a minute.

I washed off the blood as best as I could, stuffed a rag between my legs, then put the underthings back on, figuring that they were already ruined. Ok, I thought to myself. This is fine. You just have to tough it out. I left the room with a tight smile at Erik, determined not to let him see that I was in pain.

He sat on the bench and began to instruct me as if nothing were amiss when all I wanted to do was lie in a dark room and wallow in my suffering.

"Is something the matter?" Erik asked halfway through our lesson, seeing through my charade like it was polished glass.

"No," I lied through my teeth. "Let's try that scale again. I know my intonation is off as I get into the upper register."

He narrowed his eyes at me but conceded.

Out loud, I held a note with impeccable vibrato. In my head, I cursed like an Irish sailor. I calculated my chances of convincing Erik nothing was wrong (slim) and acquiring some Midol (none).

When I doubled over in pain, clenching the organ for support, Erik stood up. "Enough of this," he said. In one fluid motion, he scooped me into his arms, ignoring my protests and squirming. He carried me into my bedroom and set me on the comforter. He then proceeded to pat me down furiously, searching for some kind of injury. "Tell me what is going on, Christine," he said in a rush. "Show me where you're hurt."

It would have been comical if I'd been in the mood for humor. As it was, I felt like someone was stabbing me with an invisible dull knife. "Take your hands off me this instant!" I commanded.

He scrambled back.

I sat up and arranged my skirts around myself, mustering up some dignity. I said, "My cycle has started."

"Ah, well...hmmm." Erik fumbled with this knowledge like one of those tiny rubber balls.

I liked the situation even less than he did. "If I tell you what I need, will you trust that I can take care of myself and leave me alone?"

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. "Anything."

He looked so helpless and pathetic that pity stirred my heart. I racked my brains for something that would occupy him and keep him out of the way. "Could you bring me some bandages?" I asked him.

"Bandages?" Erik looked panicked—like he was about to start combing me for an injury again.

"Yes," I said, "or some long strips of cloth. Something of that sort. And I'd like a bath, please."

Erik darted away to do as I'd asked like a fire had been lit beneath him. When he returned with the bandages, he found me sitting on the bed with my knees pulled up to my chest and my head resting on my arms. He awkwardly patted my back, and I waved him away. He dashed off again.