A Heart Misguided (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 13 - Boscherville

Christine's POV:

I held onto Erik like he was a life line and he was. We had decided to move to Boscherville two weeks ago and we were on our way. In fact we were on the outskirts of the town right now. Erik wouldn't tell me anything about this town but the closer he got the quieter he got. I knew there was something in his past that included this town. I looked around his shoulders (I was sitting behind him on Caesar) and saw the lights of the town, glowing in the half-light. Erik was quiet as the dead. He didn't say a word. I didn't like this. I clung tighter to him as we trotted into town. A few people moved across the road but they moved out of our way when we rode through. Some gave us strange looks and more than one gasped in shock. I looked up at Erik and I heard him growl.

“Maybe this wasn't the best idea.” He whispered.

“Why?” I asked.

“This is my hometown.” My eyes widened. Erik was born here. I held my tongue though. We would talk about it later.

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

“To the inn. We will get a room, sleep the night, and than go look for a house.” I nodded and held onto Erik. Several people covered their eyes as he passed. Well, he did kinda look like the grim reaper except that he rode a white horse and had a young woman clinging to his back. That was the only difference. We trotted up to the inn and I slid off. I flinched as my feet landed in the mud. I quickly stepped up onto the sidewalk. Erik tied the horse and, walking up to the door of the inn, opened it for me. I started to walk in but almost ran into a small woman. She was shorter than me and had gray hair. Her eyes were brown and her clothing plain. She might have been beautiful at one time but she must have gone through hard times to change that. I smiled at her and she smiled back at me. Without a word she hurried down the street. I looked at Erik and saw a strange expression in his eyes. I smiled at him and we walked through the doorway. I looked around the room and noticed a few old men sitting in a corner. They looked me over with a interested eye. Erik slipped one hand around my waist in a protective manner and led me up to the a table where the inn keeper which he was cleaning. He looked up at me and his eyes widened. For one moment I thought he was going to whistle but one look at Erik and he kept his mouth shut. Erik looked him over and I knew he was sneering. He didn't like it when men looked at me like a piece of meat. That is one of the good things about living the cellars. Erik finally said,

“Monsieur, I need a room for two.” The inn keeper looked scared to death but he nodded and we soon had a room. As we started to walk up the stairs, a voice stopped us.

“Why did you return to this town? You were never wanted here.” I felt Erik tense and I ran my hand over his knuckles. He turned around and I saw one of the old men talking to us. Erik's eyes burned.

“This is my home, Monsieur DeRue. Yes, I do remember you. Even a monster is allowed to come back to his home. And, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Christine. Good evening.” He took my hand and we marched up the stairs to our room. Erik had been carrying the two bags we had and he set them in the corner. I walked over to the bed and collapsed into it. He shed his coat and climbed in beside me. I snuggled close to him and whispered,

“Erik, who was that man?” He sighed.

“The father of one of the worst tormenters. He hated me as much as his son. My only hope is that I can now stand on my own two feet in front of them.” I smiled and whispered,

“Well, you are taller than they are.” Erik laughed and I yawned. Moments later, I was sound asleep.

Erik's POV:

I stare up at the ceiling as I remembered the face of the woman that Christine had almost run into. She wouldn't have recognized her at all. But I remembered those brown eyes that I never saw sparkle and the gray hair that used to be black. She was plumper than she had ever been. I guess that when I left she started to recover. That cut me. I should hate her. I should hate her but the reason I had run away from home was to spare her anymore pain. I had to admit that on the outside I hated her but deep down I still cared about her. I twirled a lock of my own black hair and scowled. That was the only thing that I had ever gotten from her. From my mother.