One Nightmare Ends, Another Begins (ERIK SPECTRE)

[Madeleine Gauthier]

She was worried. Everything told her she shouldn't be worried - that she should be relieved -, but to hell with that, he was still her son and despite everything that motherly instinct still thrived deep within her soul. There was the slightest bit of regret living within her. Not much, certainly not enough for her to have redeemed herself - there wasn't enough worry for her to claim redemption either. To tell the truth, there was no redeeming herself from that, but she didn't know that. She believed that she still had a chance of redeeming herself from all those horrible deeds she done to Erik.

For a religious woman, she didn't much act like it.

She'd woken that morning to find the couch Erik had lain the night before was empty. He was no longer there. She'd officially lost everything. With a fleeting feeling of hope, she'd gone up stairs to see if he'd gone up there to play with his inventions or read a book or something, something that caused him to leave the couch.

But he wasn't there, the room was empty.

She hadn't cried, maybe she should have. She hadn't ran out to go and find him, maybe she should have. She hadn't fallen to her knees in despair and loss, maybe she should have. In the end, she didn't nothing other than turn away, closing her eyes. When she'd opened them she'd been in a library. A library! How in the world was she in a library!?

Confusion had slipped through her veins almost instantly. One minute she was in her son's room and then she was in a library. What sense did that make? Her son's room to the library. But in both places she'd been utterly alone...

But how alone was she really?

[Erik Spectre]

It had been a few months since the singularly pleased Erik Spectre had his epiphany of sorts. Since he found himself with all the comforts of a real home in the form of his new suite in the men's dormitories, he'd taken to making trips about the manor, exploring in broad daylight and uncaring if anyone was stunned by his presence. He no longer slunk along the walls like a perpetrator, nor did he wait until nightfall to leave the mansion for the village. Frankly, he simply no longer cared what any living soul thought of him... including Christine.

Ah, Christine... he continued to think of her often, and had on occasion ran into her during walks around the gardens. She might have fainted seeing him in such a location, but he reassured her that she was not dreaming. Come to think of it... She might have thought he'd gone mad! Well if she thought it she never said it, considerate girl that she was. He must strive to be considerate like that...

Yes! Well his days were peaceful in general. He did not speak to anyone, and those who did found him increasingly irritated with their presence. Nevertheless, he was filled with jubilation! He'd never felt such a way before, not in his entire life, and it was simply because he read a book...

That book... Every time he thought of it his blood boiled. He was grinding his teeth now, as he carted a stack of finished books down to the library, where he'd return them and borrow more. That book by the oafish Leroux had been Erik's undoing... and his awakening. To think the man had the gall to suggest Erik could never fit in, to suggest he'd died of a broken heart--such a pathetic way to go! Erik pushed forward. He might have run a hole into the carpet with his furious pace to the library, had he been able to see completely where he was going over the pile of books in his spindly arms.

He did reach the library however, and sighed. Thankfully the door was cracked open, but his hesitance to enter was due to the overwhelming urge that always formed in his stomach when he entered this room. It was to read the book again. Yes, he had indeed read it a second time, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming... And perhaps he'd found the French edition hidden behind the complete collection of the works of some man named "Lemony Snicket" (what an unfortunate name!), and perhaps he'd read that one too... He could not read it again! He just couldn't! He wouldn't let himself go through the torture and sorrow again!

Finally determined, Erik knocked the door open with his foot and strode through... unfortunately knocking directly into the warm body in front of him. His books crashed to the floor and he stumbled forward, sending both himself and the small woman to the ground. He came mask to nose with the woman, and immediately rolled over and away from her, growling. He tilted his head, hands planted firmly on the ground. His eyes grew wide.

"Well, aren't you just the little doormat! When someone is coming with an armful of books, try moving out of the way!"

[Madeleine Gauthier]

Madeleine was taking a look around the grand library when he ran into her. She had only vaguely heard the door being knocked open. Books fell, she fell, he fell, they all landed in a bit of an uncomfortable heap. And she landed, her face staring right into the face of a man. A masked man. A somewhat grown up version of her own son. And then the little weight that he had was gone and he had his hands planted firmly on the ground parallel to her, a growl sliding from his lips.

She scrambled to sitting position, her eyes wide and staring at him, although she paused for a moment, digesting his rude statement. Her eyes narrowed and she retorted, "A sorry seems to be in order." She stood dusting herself off, her eyes still narrowed. "And perhaps you should watch where you're going instead of just barreling through. This is a library, other people use it besides you." She crossed her arms somewhat defiantly, somewhat childishly.

There was a deep set fear rolling through her despite her somewhat brave outbursts. This man reminded her very much of her son, and that alone was quite frightening, for she was actually quite sure her son was lying dead somewhere. Considering he was a young boy when he left the house, she believed him to be dead. She didn't know how wrong she was.