After shutting my bedroom door, I turned and leaned against it with a sigh.  Now that I was alone and had a little time to think, I was already doubting my actions.  Maybe Erik’s right, and I am mad.  But, then again, so is he.  I heaved a deep breath and caught myself as my ribs responded with a sharper ache.  Yes, we’re definitely both mad.  But at least I’m a crazy with a bath in my immediate future.

            I was a little unnerved about not having my own things with me, but Erik was right.  There was nothing I could possibly need that was not provided here, so I may as well take advantage of the situation.

            I went back into my lovely green marble bathroom and started the water running.  It was a huge tub and was going to take a long time to fill.  I set the water just a little hotter than I could stand, anticipating it cooling as I waited for it to fill.  This seemed total, unheard of luxury for me, and I half-intended to sleep in the bath!  As I went to leave the bathroom again, all the bottles and containers caught my eye, and I investigated until I came up with what looked to be a bath salt in a feathery-light floral scent.  I tossed a handful of it into the running water, and went out to find something to wear to bed.

            I pulled a long, sleeveless, white, cotton nightgown out of the drawer and laid it on the bed, looking forward to pulling it on once I was actually clean.  Then, regretting the necessity of leaving such filthy garments anywhere in my lovely clean rooms, I disrobed, finally deciding to just stash the clothes in a corner.  I’d figure out what to do with them tomorrow.  I also took the rose Erik had given me out of my hair and laid it carefully on the vanity.  Then I grabbed the cotton robe, which had beautiful long lace on the sleeves, and headed back to the bathroom.

            My bath was almost full, and the bathroom was full of delightfully scented steam.  I laid my robe and towel on the counter around the tub, and, on a whim, lit all the candles in the room.  It was filled with a dim, comforting glow, flame yellow on the ceiling, but a warm pink from the glass holders across the space of the room.  Then, I sank into the tub.

            At first, it was agony.  The water was very hot and screamed across my dozens of cuts and scrapes.  But that faded, and the healing warmth seeped into my poor, battered muscles.  It seemed the most heavenly thing to let my back and neck relax, and float near the surface of the water.  This had been exactly what I needed. 

As the stress of the days activities left my body, my mind began to drift.  I refused to think on my new, bizarre situation, opting to avoid all stress.  Instead, I watched the candlelight dance on the ceiling until my eyes gently closed and I gave way to light, pleasant dreaming.

       I woke with a start to a loud noise, and almost drowned before I remembered where I was.  Coughing out a lungful of scented water and struggling to sit upright in the now lukewarm water, I wondered what I had heard.  Was Erik in the outer room, or was it some strange noise the Opera made when settling for the night?

            I heard the noise again.  It was my own stomach, complaining loudly about its severe emptiness.  I wondered what to do about it until I remembered Erik’s promise to leave a dinner tray outside my door.  I hoped he had made good on that promise.  The long rest in the slowly cooling water had done wonders for how I felt, and now I was seriously hungry.

            I got slowly and regretfully out of the tub.  The water was a little grey with dirt, and though I felt cleaner, I knew I could probably still use a shower in the morning.  Estimating how my sides and muscles would feel in the morning, I thought it would have to be a long, hot shower. 

            My bath made that satisfying gurgling sound as it flowed down the drain.  I dried myself with a towel so soft, I felt like I was a little girl again, pretending to be drying with soft fluffy clouds.  The robe was just as gentle against my skin, and the long patches of lace made me feel quite elegant.  It fit perfectly, and I did a little twirl in the mirror.

            It was then that I had a realization.  I was not feeling anywhere near as nervous and out of place as I should, and now I had it figured out why.  I felt like I was in my own personal fairy-tale, which meant no real harm could come to me and everything HAS to turn out all right.  But this was reality, and that was a dangerous idea or feeling to have.

            Or, if I must feel that way, then remember fairy-tales before modern society, and Disney, got a hold of them.  Remember when they were dark tales, full of terror and secrets, and the heroine just as often died a grotesque, torturous death as she got her fair prince and lived happily ever after.  Just like real life.

            I felt a small kernel of unease settle into the pit of my stomach.  Good.  Everything will probably be fine, but if I’m a little worried, I’m a little wary.  And I don’t really know if I can trust Erik yet.  No proof, just my gut instinct.

            Yet, when I opened the door of my room slowly and there was the tray, I couldn’t help but WANT to trust Erik, and rarely, if ever had my gut been wrong before.  I did not hear Erik in the other rooms, and the door to his room was closed; I assumed he had gone to bed.  But the scent I had already come to associate with him, candles and roses, flowed into my room from the hallway, reminding me of his elegance and grace.  And of his eyes, that I already felt I knew too well.

            I took the tray with a shake of my head and managed to close the door with my hip.  The aroma coming from the bowl of soup was making me ravenous and I settled eagerly on the love-seat to inhale my supper.

            But, there was a folded piece of paper with my name on it resting against a glass of wine.  The writing, done in red, could only have belonged to Erik.  Never having seen it before, I would still pick it as his against dozens of others.  It just seemed his style.  The note inside was brief, but thoughtful enough to ease a little of the nervousness I had talked myself into. 

Again, welcome to my home.  I look forward to our lesson tomorrow morning.

Erik

            And there was another rose.  I looked about for something to put this one in with water, but could find nothing.  I briefly contemplated adding it to the silver vase with the white ones, but it just didn’t seem right.  In the end, I laid it on my bedside table, sad that its beauty would fade so fast.

            Then I laid to on the soup, cheese and crackers.  The delicious soup was still warm, so either Erik had taken his time, or I hadn’t been dozing as long as I thought.

            Once full, I decided to try and be a proper houseguest and clean up after myself.  Leaving the glass of wine next to my journal and the rose on the bedside table, I carried my tray out the door and back to the kitchen.  It was very dark, but I remembered that Erik’s home was mercifully uncluttered, and needn’t worry about stumbling on unseen objects in the dimness.

            There was one dim light right over the sink when I got to the kitchen, and I rinsed my dishes quickly, and as quietly as possible.  Since I didn’t know where anything in the kitchen was, I just left my plates stacked in the sink.  I didn’t want to wake Erik, if he really was already asleep, by bumbling around his kitchen.  Then, I slipped back to my own rooms.

            The cotton nightgown felt just as good against my clean body as I’d hoped, and I put out all lights in my room except one of the electric bedside lamps and a candle in the bathroom.  Feeling more tired than I had in ages, I really just wanted to sleep, but I was going to make myself write about this peculiar day in my journal tonight, just like I wrote every night. 

            I have been kidnapped by the Opera Ghost, and it was my idea… I began.

            I sipped the wine as I wrote, growing sleepier, but determined to finish my strange tale of the day.  When I had, I slipped Erik’s note and a few petals from my roses between the appropriate pages, laid the journal aside and turned out the light.  The barely visible glow from the candle in the bathroom would be enough to remind me where I was if I woke in a panic in the middle of the night, but I doubted I would.  The bed was so soft and comfortable, and my situation too bizarre to bother contemplating.  Life is meant to be simply lived, not thought out I thought sleepily to myself and wondered if Erik would agree.

            I heard a single soft click from the hallway as I presumed the building settled for the night, and knew nothing else but dreams of red roses, black silk and blue eyes until I woke.