and will never, never leave you!”
~Gaston Leroux (The Phantom of the Opera)
~
The truth settled around Ien like a heavy yoke. He needed Kiera to make him whole. She was like a drug to him, and one way or another, he would be satiated.
“Are you ready?” Sister Anne appeared in front of him. She looked solid, real.
He reached out to her, feeling the fabric of her habit. The cloth crinkled under his touch. Ien’s mind spun with possibilities. A part of him knew she was an illusion, but his senses said something different. And right now, he needed her to be real.
“What if she can’t see past this?” Ien guided Sister Anne’s hand to his face.
“She will.”
“And James, what about him?” The mere thought of his friend’s betrayal threatened to unhinge Ien again. “And Mother.”
Ien wanted retribution for every betrayal. Mother’s. James’s. He craved it almost as much as he craved Kiera.
“Things are seldom as bad as they seem.”
In this case, things were worse.
Ien turned away, desperate to change a future he feared was already lost.
“Do you trust me?” Sister Anne asked.
Silence filled the expanse surrounding him.
“Do you
trust
me?”
Her words were haunting, reminding him of…
“Yes,” he whispered. He had no choice.
“Then go back to the concert hall and talk with her. Show yourself to her, all of you. No bandages, no masks.”
Ien opened his mouth to protest, but the sister’s words cut him off.
“Make her see past your face. Past her doubts.”
Ien shook his head. Kiera would never willingly be his.
“Claim her as your own.” Her tone sent a chill rippling through him.
Yes yes yes
.
The chorus of voices chanted as Sister Anne spoke. The sound fed his desire, his obsession.
“Now go. Take your life back.”
Ien nodded and turned back to force the destiny he craved.
~
The concert hall felt different now. There was no excitement, no spark of electricity like he had felt so many times before. Something had changed.
Kiera.
Ien glanced around. The hall was silent save the faint sound of a violin playing an all too familiar melody. He walked to the wings, pushing himself into the shadows, and listened.
Kiera, violin in hand, worked the notes of their song with a deliberation all wrong for the piece. There was no passion, no pain; none of the emotions Ien had poured into the music so many months ago.
“Stop. Stop,” Kiera said to her accompanist. “The motifs are wrong. You’re supposed to follow my lead, be aggressive with the music, but not overpowering.” Kiera huffed in frustration.
Ien smiled. Kiera had felt the problem too. Good.
“But I’m playing it as it’s written, Miss. Exactly as it’s written.”
Ien bit back the response lodging in his throat.
“Just do it again, keeping in mind what I said. There is no point in playing this if it isn’t going to be right.”
They played the melody again with disastrous results. Over and over they played the measures. And over and over, Kiera barked orders at her pianist, her voice tense. She clenched her jaw as she played and forced the melody. Glaring at her accompanist, she stopped the music with a screech, breaking a string on her violin.
“You know, I think we might as well call it a night. It’s late.” Kiera placed her instrument in its case and turned away.
The pianist grabbed his music. “I think the song sounds lovely, Miss McDougal. Your performance will be great.”
Kiera was silent as he left the stage.
The stage manager climbed the forward stairs to Kiera. “You know he’s right, Kiera. The piece sounds good. You’re just too hard on everyone.”
Kiera shook her head. “Thanks Henry. But really, you’re not exactly a music expert. This has to be perfect, and right now…” She released a heavy sigh. “Right now it’s not even close.”
Ien loved the passion Kiera had for her music. It was a quality they both shared as artists. A relentless pursuit of perfection.
“You’re going to stay and keep practicing aren’t you? I swear you’re going to wear out your fingers at this rate.”
Kiera laughed, unleashing a wave of longing in Ien. “Well, I have to get this right, don’t I?”
“You have nothing to worry about. But, I know you won’t take my word for it. The rest of us are leaving, so be sure to lock up when you go.”
“I will.”
“You have someone to walk you home, right? Maybe that boyfriend of yours?”
The faint red color rising in Kiera’s cheeks stabbed at Ien’s heart. “Yes, Henry. James is coming to get me soon.”
The stage manager shook his head as the few remaining stage hands laughed and cat-called.
“Henry,” Kiera said. “Thanks.”
“Any time, ma’am,” the stage manager said as he and the rest of the crew left.
Kiera paced across the stage and sighed. “This is never going to be right.”
Ien’s heart screamed in his ears. He stared, the crescendo of desire building to unfathomable heights. Kiera reached up to her hair and released it from its bindings. Copper curls cascaded down her back. Ien swallowed hard, imagining the feel of her hair against his fingers. He took a deep breath and sighed. The familiar sweet honey scent of her skin filled his senses.
Almost.
Don’t rush.
Don’t scare her.
He couldn’t tell whose voice was speaking, his or the others. He didn’t care. At this moment, there was only room for Kiera in his thoughts.
She replaced the string in her violin then attempted the concerto again. Her notes were flawless, yet empty. There was no substance to the music, no emotion. “Uhh! Why can’t I get this right?” She slumped onto the piano bench and fingered the notes.
The stage lights reflected off of Kiera’s milky skin. Ien trembled, his breath coming in short spurts. He couldn’t take anymore. He had to take her. Now. He stepped from the curtain wings, still hidden under the cover of shadows criss-crossing the stage.
He cleared his throat. “Kiera,” he said in a quiet whisper. His voice quivered with her name.
“I wish you were here, Ien.”
“I am.” His words died on his tongue.
“You’d know how to help me find the story in the music again. Our music.” Kiera wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked in Ien’s direction and smiled. “I need you here with me. I can’t play this without you. It’ll never sound right without you.” Her voice dropped, scarcely more than air passing from her lips. “Why did I say I’d play this song? It’s nothing without you.” A small sob escaped her lips. “Why did you have to die? I need you.”
The longing in her voice matched Ien’s. It coiled around him, coaxing him forward. He stepped onto the stage, staying hidden from view. “I’m here, Kiera. I’m here.”
Startled, Kiera stood. “Who's there?” she asked. “Show yourself.”
“Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. I just…” Ien choked on his words. He settled his thoughts and stared straight into her eyes. “I just needed to see you again.”
Her eyebrows pinched together like she was attempting an impossible puzzle. She stared into the shadows, looking for the source of the voice. Nothing.
Shaking her head, she straightened up and tightened her shoulders. “You can’t be here,” she said into the darkness. “Whoever you are, you need to leave. Now.”
Ien smiled. He always liked it when she acted tough. He knew the fear that hid underneath her bravado. “It’s me, Kiera. Ien.”
Kiera’s legs buckled for a moment. She grabbed the piano. Her complexion looked almost translucent. “No. No. No.” She shook her head. “You’re dead,” she said through gritted teeth. “This is just my imagination.” She turned away.
Ien took a tentative step towards her, still hiding in the shadows. “It’s not your imagination. I’m here. I’m really here.”
She turned back to Ien, her eyes damp. “James, is that you? Stop fooling about. You’re scaring me.”
The mention of James dug into Ien’s heart. He stepped out of the shadows a few feet from Kiera, the hood of his cloak shrouding his face. “I’m not James.”
The color drained from Kiera’s face as she stepped backwards.
One step.
And another.
The scene froze for what felt like an eternity before the air split with the sound of Kiera’s scream.
“No! You’re dead. I know you’re dead.” Her body shook as she backed away. “I went to your funeral. I placed a rose on your casket and watched as they secured it in the crypt.” Kiera swallowed back another sob. Tears streamed down her face as her knees gave way. She fell onto the bench with a thud. “This isn’t real. It can’t be.” She buried her face into her hands and cried.
He walked to the piano and sat next to her. “I know it seems impossible, but I am alive. Let me play with you again.” He fingered a few notes of the opening movement.
Kiera choked back a deep sob. She turned her head towards him. “Ien?” A fresh river of tears slid down her face, matching his.
His hands shook as he continued to play, “I'm here.”
She sucked in a breath and held it. “This isn’t real. You’re not real.” Her voice trembled. “You can’t be.”
He stopped playing and faced her, taking her hands in his. “I’m here. I survived for us, Kiera.”
The air grew thick as Kiera pulled away from his grasp. “I saw you die,” she whispered and her voice cracked.
“It was a lie, an act meant to fool the world; Mother’s last attempt to keep me from you.”
The world froze.
Kiera cautiously reached for the hood of Ien’s cloak. He stiffened, unable to breathe, think, move. An eternity of hopes waited on a single breath as she pushed down the woolen fabric.
Inhale.
In her eyes, Ien saw the reflection of his shame—tendons and ligaments, bone and flesh. Death’s mask.
Exhale.
Horror filled the whole of her.
Ien’s world spiraled into utter confusion. Kiera jumped to her feet, screaming. Stumbling backwards, she ran towards the stairs.
“Wait.” He reached for her arm.
“Get away from me!” She dodged his grasp, endless screams echoing through the empty concert hall.
“Kiera!”
“Help! Get away from me, you monster.” She ran through the doors, spilling onto the busy streets.
The cool night air bit into Ien’s skin. Tendrils of mist swirled around his feet. He inhaled sharply and followed her into the crowd.
Kiera’s voice filled the air. “…a monster, the devil…he attacked me…don’t let him hurt me…” Her words bounced off of the mist and buildings, forming a maelstrom around him.
The crowd closed in around Kiera. She looked through the tangled masses, searching. “There,” she said, her eyes meeting Ien’s. “He’s the one.”
The crowd turned towards him, their frenzy growing. Ien ran away from the horde. Fragments of Kiera’s words ensnared his senses as the wind howled around him.
“…not human…”
“…the devil…”
“…kill him…”
He ran through the labyrinth of streets and alleys, monstrous shadows consuming him.
27.
“When love is in excess,
it brings a man no honor nor worthiness.”
~Euripides (Medea)
~~
I can’t escape from Kiera’s words. They strangle me. Define me. She wasn’t supposed to react this way. She wasn’t supposed to be repulsed or afraid. Sister Anne promised she would accept me, promised we would have a life together.
Sister Anne lied.
I slow to a walk. My breath comes in ragged, uneven pulses. I wind back through the streets, hiding in the shadows. The crowd has dispersed and Kiera is gone.
Kiera is gone.
The thought is unsettling. I’m lost without her, unable to move.
“You’re giving up too easily, Ien. You need to try again.” Sister Anne’s voice comes from the buildings around me. Her words penetrate my mind and the scrutiny is more than I can bear. I run, confused and afraid.
Buildings give way to trees and meadows. The moon hangs high in the night sky, illuminating an unsure path. I maneuver through the forest, careful to avoid the small rocks and tree roots. Every step brings chaos, clouding my thoughts completely.
“Go back.” The voice passes through me like a cold wind. “Go back and find Kiera. She alone will heal you.”
“Show yourself!” My voice echoes against the trees.
“You must calm yourself, Ien. Before you lose your mind to your fear.”
Too late.
I stop, disoriented. I don’t know where I am.
“Calm yourself.”
“No! I won’t listen to you.” I grab my head and cover my ears. The harder I push, the louder the taunts. “You lied to me, Sister. You lied. Kiera abhors me.”
You’re so weak.
An abomination. A curse.
Who would ever love someone like you?
You’re a devil!
Each taunt comes in a different voice. Erik. Father. Mother.
Kiera.
They are relentless.
“Stop!”
I spin around, desperate to find a path through the incessant loop replaying through my thoughts. “Stop.”
“You have done this to yourself.” Sister Anne stands against a nearby tree. “You, alone, can change it.”
“How?”
“Kiera.”
I am doomed to madness.
“Get Kiera now!” The timbre in Sister Anne’s voice changes. She walks to me, her eyes no longer clouded over.
“You’re not Sister Anne.” I watch as the woman morphs in front of me, changing into Mother.
I lunge forward, latching my fingers around her neck.
“Ien, please. It’s me.”
“No. No. No.” I squeeze harder. She struggles against my hold. The frail bones in her neck break against my grasp, as does the dam to my emotions.
Rage.
Disgust.
Shame.
They fuel my strength.
My hands cramp, my knuckles whiten. “No more, Mother. No more of this game.”