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Erik turned over on the mattress, pulling the sheets up to his chin as a shiver wracked his body. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but he knew it had been days. Days since he’d noticed the tickle in his throat, days since he’d lost his appetite, days since he’d laid down in this bed—intentionally not choosing his coffin in favor of any small comfort he could find.
He hoped that if he simply waited long enough, the sweet release of death would come to welcome him into its cold embrace.
He hacked out another cough, aggravating his raw throat. The noise rattled in his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned. He was too exhausted to be concerned. So exhausted, in fact, that found himself beginning to hear things—the opening of a door, distant footsteps, a voice softly calling his name. It sounded like Christine.
But that was silly, he reasoned. Why would she come down here of her own initiative? He’d always gone to fetch her for their vocal lessons, not wanting to risk her accidentally triggering one of his many traps and coming to harm. She probably couldn’t even navigate the catacombs on her own, anyway. She had far better things than that to spend her time thinking about.
He squinted at the sudden flood of light as the door to the bedroom room opened, momentarily blinding him. His mismatched eyes adjusted to the light, allowing him to see the figure that had just entered. Quickly recognizing his Christine, a small smile came to his lips, despite the disgusting feeing that plagued his body. If he had to experience a mirage, this one, he decided, was at least not all that bad.
Christine’s brow was creased with concern as she moved further into his room and took in Erik’s state. “Erik? What’s happened?” she asked softly as she leaned over the bed.
“I’m fine, my Christine,” Erik managed to reply, his voice quiet and gravelly. He wanted so desperately to go back to sleep, but he was afraid that if he closed his eyes for even a second that her image would dissolve and he would be alone once more. When he felt her cool fingers upon his brow, however, he began to realize that perhaps this was not a dream at all. “Why…are you here?”
“You didn’t come to fetch me for my lesson yesterday,” Christine replied, her frown only deepening when she noted how warm he felt. “You have a fever.”
“Nonsense,” Erik croaked in reply, though in truth, he knew that she was probably correct.
Shaking her head, Christine let out a soft sigh and moved back toward the door. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Don’t move,” she said in a soft, yet firm tone before she slipped back into the hallway.
Not bothering to waste the little energy he had on a reply, Erik sunk further into his mattress. He hated looking anything less than perfect—or, at least, as perfect as he was capable, given the obvious—in front of Christine, and he hated himself for not thinking to lock his front door to prevent this situation in the first place.
Such thoughts vanished almost instantly, though, when Christine appeared in the doorway and approached his bed. Gently, she placed a damp cloth over his forehead before cupping his cheek in her hand. “You poor thing,” she said softly. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Erik?”
“Just…stay?” he replied quietly, almost pleading.
Christine spared one look and his eyes and knew there was no possible way she could turn him down. After all, he never asked a thing of her, and she could tell he desperately wanted her company, her comfort—something he hadn’t experienced much of during his lifetime. How could she face herself if she were to deny him this? And if she were being perfectly honest with herself, she didn’t want to leave him alone.
She was perfectly aware of how quick he was to neglect his needs when he wasn’t monitored, and she feared what would become of him if she didn’t remain by his side. It wouldn’t be a problem for her to care for him if it meant having the weight of fretting over him off her mind.
Offering him a warm smile, she took his left hand in both of hers and gave a gentle nod. “Yes, Erik, of course I’ll stay,” she said softly.
A small smile spread over Erik’s chapped lips as she squeezed his hand. “Thank you, my Christine,” he replied, only to let out what was intended to be a soft laugh when his cat, Ayesha, hopped up onto the mattress, seemingly out of nowhere, and positioned herself on top of her owner’s chest.
“Ah, now you have both of the women in your life taking care of you,” Christine said with a smile as she reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of Erik’s face. “Now, get some rest. We’ll stay here while you do.”