Christiana screamed as she felt the blood soaking her gown, and the white hot pain in her side. Her mothet just stood behind her, examining the butter knife she had stabbed into her daughter's side.

  Christiana needed to get away, but the pain was blinding and she had no idea where she could go. The hospital did not occur to her. She could barely think. She just needed to get away before her mother killed her.

   She staggered out the back door and into the woods, clutching her side. Everything hurt so much, but she began to run, her pained mind fearful of being chased by the woman who had raised her. Another wound and she'd be dead. Christiana, having tasted freedom, was not ready for death.

   She had never been in the forest before. She had no idea where to go. However, she could run a few miles before getting tired. Usually. With her waist bleeding, she stumbled quickly more than ran. The darkness prevented her from seeing very much.

       To her, she was in a barren wasteland. She felt trees and shrubs pull on her hair, catch on het gown, tearing it, and tripping her, but she did not see anything more than their shapes and outlines, dark figures blending in to a dark backdrop. The fact she was nearly cross-eyed from pain didn't help either. Her vision was red.

     She did not know how long she fled. She did not know where she was. She just kept going, stupidly, blindly. Finally, slowed to a walk. She counted the minutes in her head, sixty seconds at a time. She got up to half an hour's worth before closing her  eyes and stumbling a bit, feeling faint from the loss of blood. But she had to keep going.

  Christiana screamed again as she tripped and fell into a tree.

    But she got back up and continued to wander further. The snow was hard beneath her feet. The wind chilled her bare arms. She was freezing. She wanted to give up. But she couldn't give up, not until she couldn't fight anymore.

   Unfortunately, that time came not very long after her pain was numbed by her despair.

    She sank down to her knees, suddenly, as her legs gave out. Her gown pooled as a white and red bubble around her, blending in with the snow. She toppled and did not get up. She doubted anyone was around to hear her, but decided to try to call for help anywhere. Not afraid of busting her vocal chords, Christiana used her last bit of energy to scream. She put all her pain, rage, and darkness into the scream.

    Christiana fell into the darkness.

                               🌹

    Erik was barely two miles from his home when he heard an earsplitting howl of pain in the darkness. A woman sounded like she was dying.

    His fear of people sank down as his goodness surfaced. He had to help whoever it was and he started to run in the direction the horrible scream came from.

     He came to a small clearing. He surveyed the area, grateful - abd smug  - he could see abnormally well in the dark, thanks to all his years spent in a basement and unlit cage. The sight before him however, was one he wished he never saw.

    A girl in a white dress with tangled caramel hair was lying on the ground. Crimson dotted her white dress. Erik recognized the dress. He also recognized thr girl and nearly died right there.

  Christiana.

   What cruel fate had decided to twist his life so much that he was to have his love given to him only in death? But was she dead?

   He gently knelt beside her checked her pulse. She was in fact, alive. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned her onto her back. Could he do anything about her wound? Not in the middle of the forest. Her bodice was soaked in blood, but it appeared the wound on her waist, from what he could see, was not terribly deep.

   He carefully lifted her into his arms and started back to his home. How was it possible that he had found her, that she had come this far on foot? He was miles from the town!

    And what would happen once she was healed? When she woke up? Well, he'd find out whoever hurt her and he'd kill them. No one hurt his heart and got away with it.

   Erik smiled, thinking about strangling Ray. But then Christiana would never strangle anyone. She probably couldn't kill.

   When they arrived back at his home, he placed her in his room - he would offer her a spare room once he knew she was alright, or so he claimed - and located his medical supplies.

   Erik had spent three years studying medicine, so he knew exactly how to treat her. Unfortunately, he did have to take her dress off to stitch up her waist. Fortunately, she had on undergarments. But seeing her even in them fely wrong. His eyes were not meant to behold such beauty, nor a woman's body. But he focused on cleaning her wound and the dried blood staining her pale skin.

      Once he had finished, he pulled out one of his shirts and put it on her. He would order clothes for her once she woke up and told him what she wanted to do. Over night delivery was, after all, overnight. Sometimes faster with the right tips or threats.

    He dragged his desk chair to her bedside. Now all he had to do was wait. And write some music.

   For some reason, Erik found he had no issues with writing down music in his notebook, with Christiana in the room. Her presence seemed to make everything come out... fluently. The pieces of his musical heartache fell into place. She inspired his opera. She fed his pain, darkness, and elation. If only now, she could stay with him forever.

A N

Okay, these last two chapters were garbage. But I promise the writing will get better. Also thanks to my newest reader. I hope you find an Erik who can cook, sew, and decorate of your own. (Smiles pointedly at you, you know who you are.)

    AlexWritesAgain