The Friend Shop (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 17

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

This is a big chapter. A big reveal happens. I suppose several big reveals. Comment and let me know what you think!! And, I should have another chapter up soon. Enjoy!

sarahlet2999

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Chapter 17

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The house stood dark and foreboding against the night sky, lit by the dying purple rays of the sun. Christine shuddered as they abandoned the vehicle and continued on foot from the broken bridge across the pasture to the house. A few lights on the lower floor faintly gleamed from behind thick curtains. A deathly silence reigned over the place; not even the evening birds twittered on the way to their roosts. The sounds of their feet changed from crunching grass to grinding gravel as they approached the front door of the house. Nadir walked purposefully up the steps and rang the doorbell once before trying to peer inside the house through the little window. A heavy curtain blocked his view.

Christine shivered again and looked about as they waited for a response from the door. None came. Leaving Nadir, she crept around the back of the house to a two-car garage, the rolling door closed though the small human door on the side unlocked. She entered, a motion light flickering on immediately. On the right side sat an antique convertible from the 1950s, glowing black with silver chrome trim. On the left, a two-seater Harley Davidson motorcycle propped itself up on its kickstand, also painted obsidian black.

Also to her left, a door lead into the house. She tested the handle, finding it turned. She pushed, and the door swung open. Relieved to have found a way in, she ran back outside to call Nadir who had just raised his hand to knock on the door again.

"Nadir! I found a way in through the garage. Come on. He isn't going to answer." She disappeared back into the garage, not waiting for him to respond.

Tiptoeing through the house, she took in the mess that greeted her eyes in the dining room. While furniture remained upright, paper, dirty dishes, and needles covered most flat surfaces. She lightly gasped, the sight nearly causing her to be sick. She floated into the living room, finding a similar mess, only this time a violin lay among the mess next to some sheet music.

She bent down and picked up the violin, setting it somewhere safe before picking up the music.

"White Butterfly." She whispered, flipping through the messily written music. At the bottom a message had been scribbled but she couldn't read the scrawl. Setting the music down, she reached for one of the needles, careful to keep away from the point. Her hands shook as a block of ice settled in her stomach.

"Nadir..." she whispered, turning to face him with the needle settled in her palm. "This doesn't mean what I think it means, does it?" Her whole body shook at the possibly before then unconsidered.

"Yes, Christine, I believe it does." He gently removed the syringe from her hands and set it back on the table. "I'm sorry."

"You don't look too surprised." Christine growled, unsure of what to feel about it all. How does one feel when they're abandoned for weeks then discover their best friend is a drug addict. Terribly shaken, she took several shuddering breaths and closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. When the blue pools opened, they were filled with determination.

"We have to find him. I don't care if he's too high to even know my name. We have to find him and make sure he's alive." Christine locked her jaw in place to keep it from quivering and brushed the tears away that had built under her eyelids. Focused, she ran up the stairs towards his bedroom.

Flinging open the door, she fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on, only to find no one in the coffin occupying the center of the room. A cold panic clutched at her throat as she bolted for his office. The door slammed against the wall, echoing about the empty room. No one again. Nearly sick, she ran towards the spare bedroom she had taken him to when he fainted. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped inside.

A skeleton lay in the bed, his only clothing a pair of loose trousers secured with a belt.

Her heart slammed to a stop in her chest as she ran her eyes over the gaunt form and twisted face of what could only be her best friend. So that's what he has so resolutely hidden from me. Covering her mouth to suppress a gasp, she crept towards the figure. Only the faint rising and falling of his bare chest informed her he still breathed. His skin possessed the color of pewter except where bruises littered his arms. Some were red and swollen while others had faded into purples, greens, and yellows.

In one bony hand lay a syringe. Careful not to alert him to her presence, she picked up the syringe and set it aside. Her eyes scanned his torso, nearly sobbing at the ribs jutting against tautly-pulled skin. The concave stomach made her wonder when he had last eaten.

Finally, she let her eyes wander to his face. To her horror, she had to swallow several times to keep herself from throwing up. Bits of scraggly black hair clung tightly to the edge of a graying forehead. A boney ridge replaced eyebrows above his sunken, closed eyes. And, below his eyes, a gaping hole lay where a nose should have existed.

Then, she heard Nadir approaching the door.

I can't let him see Erik without his mask! I can't! Running towards the door, she cracked it open to hiss at Nadir.

"Don't come in! Go find one of his masks in his bedroom." Nadir gave her the oddest look but disappeared down the hall into the bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she sank to the floor and stared at the balls of his feet, hanging off the edge of the foot of the bed.

"Oh Erik," she whispered, "I..." She dropped her head into her lap and openly cried, half from relief that he was alive and half from self-hatred at her reaction. He's my best friend! I won't let it bother me. Not right now. Not when he needs me most. A light knock sounded at the door.

"Christine, I have a mask." She stood up and cracked the door open, slipping her hand out to take the mask.

"Give me one moment." Steeling her frazzled nerves, she walked over to Erik and cradled his head in her arm, his deformed face resting against her chest as she fumbled with the mask. After several failed attempts, she managed to secure it enough and laid his head back down on the pillow. His eyelids shuddered but he didn't rouse.

With his face covered from the view of strangers, she let Nadir inside the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, a look of pure pity covering his face.

"Oh Christine..." he whispered, walking to the side of his unconscious friend. He picked up the syringe she had removed from his hand and the bottle that had sat unnoticed on the table. "Morphine. And, by the looks of everything, he's severely addicted."

"Will he be okay? Did...did he overdose?" At that moment, she didn't care about tomorrow and how severely addicted her friend was to that drug. I want to know he'll live! Everything else can be dealt with soon enough. Nadir lifted his wrist and checked his pulse. He laid a hand on his shoulder and stomach to check his skin before examining his fingertips.

"No, he hasn't overdosed. He's just sleeping. Give his system several hours and he will flush the morphine out of him. I'll go make some coffee and we'll settle in to watch him until he wakes up." Nadir sighed and ran tired hand through his hair as he wandered out of the room and down to the kitchen. Christine dragged a chair over to beside his bed and took one limp hand in hers.

"Erik, I'm here for you. We'll walk through this together." She passed a hand over his forehead, remembering the deformity she had seen beneath it. "Your face...is...unique, but, I won't reject you for it. I'm not your adopted mother." The sentiment repeated in her head. I'm not your adopted mother. I can love you when she did not.