by Bea Paige
He walks towards me, still playing. His fingers fly over the strings as his jaw clenches with concentration. His music builds around us, rebounding off the walls, filling the space up with sound and energy. With nowhere to go, the sound returns inwards, covering my body with invisible vibrations, puckering my nipples.
For the first time since he picked up the violin and began to play, Erik’s attention fixes on me and only me. I’m vaguely aware of Ivan taking a step towards me at the same time as Erik. Tension builds alongside the sound. We’re on the verge of something that will either break us all or bring us closer together. No one is going to come out of this unaffected. Not even me. Especially not me.
Emotions I’ve kept at bay these past few months in the company of these men builds within my chest. I’ve been swimming against the tide for so long that I’ve forgotten how to just be. To be still, in the moment, now.
There’s always been a battle to fight, a memory to run from, pain to overcome. But here in this room I’m forced to stop, to accept what’s coming.
For better or worse, I chose to see this through and that’s what I’m going to do.
As Erik moves closer to me, I risk a glance at Ivan and Anton, at two of the men who mean a great deal to me, even if I’m only admitting it now.
Ivan is shaking, he’s strung tight. I can’t even decipher what he’s feeling, the emotions that ripple across his face are too complex to digest in the fraction of a second I allow myself to absorb them. Next to him, Anton is furiously drawing. His fingers moving across the paper just as quickly as Erik’s are moving along the strings. Both are frantic in their concern, Anton pours his worry into his art whilst Ivan tries to keep his at bay, locked behind a rigid stance and shaking fists.
Erik keeps moving closer, drawing my attention back to him. The rust coloured orbs of his eyes penetrating my own. This time I don’t look away, understanding now that he needs to see within the depths. He needs to see me, so I let him.
I remain still, submissive, patient. I wait for the storm to hit.
And just like that, it does.
Within four strides Erik is standing before me having discarded his violin and bow. He’s panting hard, his nostrils flaring as he draws in oxygen, as he breathes me in. There’s nothing in his eyes that I recognise as Erik, the man who held me, who hung onto me, keeping him in the present not the past. Now when I look at him, there’s nothing but an emptiness that chokes me, that no longer thrills but terrifies me.
I’m looking into the eyes of a monster, and once again I’m the girl trapped in the bowels of Cerulean Blue. I’m the daughter of a woman who was raped by a faceless man drunk on whiskey and high on cocaine. I’m Rosie, abandoned by her mother because I reminded her of the stranger who hurt her. I’m Rosie, the scared girl who only ever wanted to be loved, who searched for love in the arms of a monster, who became a darker version of herself to survive the pain he inflicted.
Now here I am, at the mercy of another monster. At the mercy of these men, two of whom claim to love me, who do love me. I know it. I feel it.
I feel.
Fear, real blood curdling fear boils inside my chest as I pull at the rope that binds my wrists and keeps me trapped. For the first time in my life I no longer want the monster. I want to be free. I want to live.
Erik stops at the foot of my bed breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. Half a second later he’s upon me, straddling my hips. His weight is heavy, oppressive. This isn’t like it was before when we fucked. Even then, I could still see the man within. Now, he’s gone.
There’s intent in his eyes. Erik means to kill me.
“Erik?” I say, my voice cracking as he leans over me. But there is nothing even remotely human in his eyes. Caught in the past, his hands close around my throat.
“No! Please…” I manage to whimper, tears streaming down my face. I let them fall.
I want him to see me, the woman who dances inside his heart.
I reach inside myself searching for the demon who protected me as a child. She’s gone. At some point over the last week she’s disappeared and though I feel afraid, I don’t feel sad at her loss because something infinitely more powerful remains in her place.
Me.
Time slows down once more as Erik’s fingers tighten and Ivan shouts, the sound taking forever to leave his mouth as he moves agonisingly slowly towards us both. All the while I break open for Erik, the man behind the monster. I let out all the years of pain and disappointment, the feeling of loneliness and heartache. I let it fall from me. With every tear, a piece of stone falls away from my heart, revealing it bit by bloody bit.
I cry for the girl I was. I cry for the child whose mother never loved her because of the actions of a man who took what wasn’t his to take. I cry for the loss of a childhood, for the innocence of a girl who could have grown up to be someone very different. I cry for the man I loved despite the pain he caused. I cry for the father I watched die because I was too fucked up to save him. I choke on my tears, swallowing the salty taste. Every past hurt, every single disappointment, all the pain that has ever been inflicted is being purged from me beneath this man’s hold.
I let it all go, just like Erik asked me to do.
With every tear shed, something in the depths of Erik’s eyes glimmers, comes to life. There’s something in me he recognises. Agonisingly slowly his fingers unclasp from my throat. He pulls back, confused.
Time speeds up.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Ivan reach for Erik, hauling him off me. Anton stands too. His drawing fluttering to the ground.
“Stop!” I shout as Erik falls to the floor.
Ivan stands over him, his whole body quaking as Anton rushes to my side. Erik isn’t the only one who feels murderous.
“Are you okay, Rose?” Anton asks, cupping my face in his hands.
I nod, hauling in a painful breath. Erik’s hands were around my throat for mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity, a lifetime. Anton leans over me and unties the rope, then hauls me into his arms, clasping me against him.
On the floor, Erik looks up at Ivan. He’s still lost, caught between the man and the monster. I see both within him. The danger hasn’t passed, not yet.
Ivan glances at Erik, then at Anton, before finally resting his gaze on me.
“You saved me, now it’s my turn to save you, Rose,” he says before holding his hand out to Erik. The second Erik is on his feet, Ivan leaps away from him, landing lightly just by Erik’s discarded violin. He bends over, scooping both it and the bow up gracefully. Then he pirouettes back to Erik and hands him the instrument.
“Play again, Erik. This time I’ll dance.”
Chapter 33
Anton pulls me to the corner of the room as far away from Erik as possible. He holds me against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around my front as we watch them both.
Erik picks up his violin and rests the bow across the neck. As he drags the bow slowly across the strings, the first note lifts into the air causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand. I hold my breath, too afraid to even breathe in case I break the spell spiralling in the air around us. Anton and I watch, waiting for the thunder to rumble and the lightning to strike, causing devastation and destruction. Erik tips his head to the side, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His body’s stiff, waiting to be drawn under, waiting to drown under the sound, and the memories, and the fucking pain.
A small, sick part of me is jealous of the fact that bitch has embedded herself into his consciousness so deeply, so irrevocably. My ego takes a knock knowing that he thinks of her, even if it is in hate and rage.
I want him to think of me. Me.
The note lingers, long and sharp, penetrating my skin, my muscle and bone. It delves into my veins, rushing a torrid path all the way to my heart. Erik lifts the bow off the strings, and for a moment I truly believe he’s going to stop playing. That he’s decided the danger just isn’t worth
it. I’m not worth it.
Fearing that he’s decided to stay in this cage for the rest of his life, I move towards him involuntarily, but Anton’s arms tighten around me, holding me back.
“Wait,” he whispers.
Ivan flicks his gaze to us both, he ripples with unspent energy, reminding me of the man I first met at Browlace. He’s uncertain too. He believes Erik has given up.
We’re both wrong.
In a sudden rush of movement, Erik’s fingers fly over the strings as the bow moves frantically. Notes tumble into the air, filling up the space and spreading around us like bubbles fizzing in champagne.
In response, Ivan’s head dips, his body arching, his arms spreading out like wings. Then he flies, churning up the notes with grace, elegance and an undercurrent of steel.
Within seconds I’m reminded of the dancer he once was; Luka Petrin.
A ballet God. A dark angel, a beautiful, gifted dancer soaring across that hardwood of the stage. Even when he was surrounded by other dancers it was as though he danced solo. The spotlight on him and him alone, everyone else faded into the background. His talent, his light too bright to focus on anyone or anything else. Here with us in this confined space Ivan dances with the same kind of magic.
He’s intense, brave, fucking breathtaking.
He dances to save his Erik from himself, to save me, us. I’m in awe, caught in the tangled web of his purity, his brilliance. After Svetlana died, he vowed to never dance again, cutting out a piece of his soul to punish himself for the actions that led to her taking her own life. But he didn’t hold the knife to her wrists, he didn’t carve it into her flesh, severing arteries so she could sign out of this world. He made mistakes and paid for them over and over in the worst possible way; through grief and self-destruction.
Now he’s purging that pain. Erik isn’t the only one severing the strings that holds him to the past. Here, right now in this room Ivan finally lets go too.
My heart bursts open, it beats loudly, strong and true. It bleeds in time with the rhythm of his movement and the sound of the notes that Erik conjures for us all. I feel my heart unfolding, a rose blooming from the emotion that pours from them both, the same emotion I can feel pouring into me from the shaking man who holds me close. Anton breathes heavily, as affected by what he sees as much as I am. We are captivated, the pair of us, observing something precious, something that has the power to destroy as much as heal.
Ivan dances with abandon. Like a leaf carried in the wind, moving with an invisible energy. Erik matches him note for note, his fingers flying fast over the strings, playing as though possessed, and I suppose he is in a way.
With every step from Ivan, with every note from Erik swirling in the storm about us, with every beat of Anton’s heart against my back, I fall hopelessly, into an unknown future where hope, and the possibility of love exists.
Together they make something beautiful, and Anton and I can only watch it unfold, helpless against it and the way it makes us feel. With every minute that passes, my breathing becomes less rapid, slowing to a steady rhythm. Anton’s arms relax their hold, his hands skimming my stomach, coming to rest on my hips.
“This is all for you, Rose. You’ve cleaved open our chests and stolen our hearts. Every note, every step, every brushstroke, every fucking heartbeat, it’s all yours…” he whispers into my ear. Sliding his hand upwards, he places it over my heart. “Do we have your heart in return, the promise of it at least?”
“I can promise that I won’t abandon you. I can promise that I will learn to live again. I can promise you that. My heart needs to heal. I need to heal first, and then… I have hope.”
Anton presses a kiss against the curve of neck. “Then, together, we’ll help you to do that.”
There’s a certain kind of freedom to my confession, and with it the energy in the room changes. Like a storm dispersing, we are left breathing in fresher, cleaner air, feeling safe now there’s no imminent danger.
Anton’s fingers begin to draw small circles on my skin as we continue to watch Ivan move with the ebb and flow of a man who has found a reason to dance again. Minutes pass as we all co-exist in this bubble, waiting for the moment when it’s going to burst.
But it doesn’t burst. Erik still plays, Ivan still dances, and Anton and I still sway in time to the music until the tune changes, slowing to a different kind of rhythm, one in which possibilities exist. Where hope exists.
Erik plays with a freedom I haven’t seen before. The tightness around his mouth is gone, a softness appearing around his eyes. He’s no longer frowning, fighting against the memories. No, the change is subtle, but it’s there, and for the first time since Ivan handed him the violin again, he turns to face Anton and me.
Before us stands the man, not the monster.
There’s recognition, warmth, joy as he looks directly at me, the sweep of his dark blonde hair falling in his eyes with every movement. I know that there are a thousand things he wants to say; I see the words brimming on his lips and within his eyes. But right now, he expresses every word playing only for me. Something crucial shifts between us.
It might take time, it might take months and months of persistence, but I know deep down in my very core that we’ll be okay so long as we aren’t afraid to bare ourselves. From this moment on I make a silent promise to myself. I will live, I will open my heart, and I will let love in.
Erik smiles, understanding me as much as I understand him.
The piece comes to an end, the last notes lingering in the air as Erik turns away from us both then crouches down, placing his violin and bow on the floor. Ivan stills, his chest heaving.
They look at each other as Erik rises.
My heart stops beating as the seconds tick by… then Erik grins, letting out a surprised laugh.
“Thank you, brother,” he murmurs, stepping towards Ivan and pulling him in for a hug.
Anton swears crudely, relief more than anything causing him to do so.
“Go to them,” he says.
I twist my head to face him, gripping his hand in mine. “You’re not sitting this one out,” I say, a smile pulling up my lips. “You don’t always have to be the observer, Anton. You’re a part of this family too,” I remind him.
“Next you’ll be getting on your knees and asking me to marry you,” Anton jokes, giving me that panty melting smile of his.
We both laugh and walk hand in hand towards them both. They pull apart, regarding us.
“You were beautiful,” I say to Ivan.
He nods, waiting for permission. I hold open my arms and Ivan walks right in, enveloping me. I breathe in his scent of sea air, musk and sweat, a heady combination. He’s so familiar and yet, somehow, he’s not. There’s a surety in him that wasn’t there before. He’s not lost his submissiveness, that’s not it. There’s just a certain kind of peace, acceptance. I press a kiss against his collarbone, laughing at how easy it is to be affectionate. There’s nothing holding me back, telling me to protect myself, and it’s thrilling in an unexpected way.
“The next time I dance, it’ll be with you,” he murmurs into my hair, before leaning back and kissing me. My heart soars.
“May I?” Erik asks.
Anton and Ivan stand back a little as Erik moves before me. I look up at him, as he stares down at me, his eyes no longer dark but a beautiful golden amber. There’s a lightness in them that wasn’t there before. His fingers graze over my neck.
“I hurt you…”
“You didn’t, Erik. That wasn’t you, that was the monster.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. You’re back and he’s gone. That’s all that matters to me.”
“You don’t crave him?” he asks, cupping my face in his palm.
I shake my head. “No. That isn’t what I need…” I admit.
“What do you need, Rose?”
I press my eyes shut and draw in a deep, steadying lungful of air.
“I need the man. I n
eed you, Erik. I need all of you. I’m ready to start living.”
“And if the monster is still a part of me?”
“Then I’ll take him too, until he isn’t.”
Erik brings his other hand up to cup my face and kisses me. His lips are soft and searching as he presses his body against mine. But even though I’m loving the feel of Erik against me, there’s one thing I want more right now than anything else.
I want out of this damn cage.
Pulling back reluctantly, I grasp hold of Erik’s hand.
“Are you ready to start living, Erik?”
“I’m ready to try,” he responds, squeezing my hand in his.
“Are you ready to let love in?” he retorts.
“I’m ready to try,” I say, repeating his words. I’m not afraid anymore.
“Thank fuck for that. I’m not sure I can take another night of watching you two eye-fuck each other,” Anton quips, lightening the moment with his crass remark.
“Shut-up, Anton, you know you loved every second of it. All that fodder for your art,” Erik responds with a wink. He laughs loudly, surprising himself with the joy he feels, as though it’s not allowed somehow. I have a feeling he hasn’t laughed for a very, very long time.
We all join in, reminding ourselves that there is joy to be found in living. Then, just as suddenly, silence descends as the reality of this moment sets in.
What’s the saying? The proof is in the pudding… I guess we’re all about to find out if Erik is really ready to leave his safety net.
Ivan nods to the discarded control. “Erik, it only seems right you should open the door.”
Erik lets out a long, steadying breath then squeezes my hand as he crouches down to pick up the remote. He holds the remote in his hand, his thumb running over the buttons lightly.
I squeeze his hand, reminding him I’m here, by his side. That’s all it takes.
Erik raises his free hand, points it at the door and presses the button. The door slides open, a draft of cool sea-salt air scattering goosebumps over my skin.