by Laura DeLuca
In that moment, Rebecca hated herself more than ever, and wondered how she could have ever doubted Justyn. She was just as weak as Christine, just as treacherous. Just as foolish because she was throwing away the possibility of real love due to childish fears and doubts.
Rebecca was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even realize when Justyn stopped singing. The music continued to play, but he had fallen into silence. She knew something was wrong, even before she looked up. He was standing in front of one of the many mirrors, and in the reflection, she could see the grimace he was trying so hard to hide. He was bent over, clutching his side. It gave Rebecca even more reason to chide herself. She should have known that he would still be in pain. He had just broken his ribs. And even though his mother was a kitchen witch, she wasn’t going to be able to magically heal broken bones overnight. In fact, Darlene had said herself that he would be hurting a lot worse the day after the accident. Judging from the look on his face, he must have been in agony. And she had added insult to injury, hurting him in a much deeper way. What kind of person was she?
“Cut the music!” Miss King called out in disgust. She climbed up onto the stage with her hands on her hips. “Justyn, is there some sort of problem?”
Justyn made an effort to stand a little straighter as he turned to face the director, but he couldn’t quite manage to drop his hand from his side. He whispered something to her, too softly for Rebecca to hear from the spot where she was still crouching in a huddle on the stage. The teacher’s face softened considerably.
“All right. Go get some rest. Opening night is only ten days away. I need you fully recovered by then.”
Justyn nodded and took a few tentative steps down from the stage. He was halfway to the door before Rebecca was finally over the shock of him cutting practice for the second day in a row and was spurred into action. She pulled herself up from the floor, and went over to Miss King, tapping her on the arm before she could go back to her regular seat in the front row.
“Miss King, is Justyn all right?”
She sighed, very heavily. “He wasn’t feeling well, Rebecca. I told him he was excused.”
Rebecca chewed her lower lip with worry. The teacher was watching her with a wary expression, waiting for the next drama to unfold in the never—ending string of dramas she’d been forced to endure since she had made her casting choices.
“If it’s all right, I’d like to go with him. If he’s not feeling well, someone should drive him home.”
Miss King rolled her eyes. “Oh, Becca, I swear this love triangle of yours is going to drive me to an early retirement. But fine . . . go. What good is Christine without the phantom, anyway?”
“Thank you, Miss King!” Rebecca called back as she ran to grab her book bag. She had just swung it over her shoulder and was getting ready to dart back down the steps when Tom grabbed her arm.
“You aren’t going after him, are you, Becca? Not again.”
Rebecca sighed, even more deeply than Miss King had. “Yes, Tom, I am. He’s hurt and he needs me.”
“I’m getting a little tired of playing second to that freak show,” Tom told her. She swore she could hear his teeth grinding. “If you go, that’s it! We’re through, Becca. For good.”
Rebecca stopped for a minute. Four years of fantasies were coming to an end. Four years of imagining herself beside the school heartthrob. Tom had proven himself to be a lot less perfect than she had thought. He had his jealous side and he was showing that right now. He was squeezing her arm so tightly she was sure he would leave a bruise. How did she know he wasn’t the person who had been terrorizing her? If she was truly the motive, didn’t it reason that Tom could be just as guilty as Justyn? Maybe Jay’s accident had been planned by them as a cover up, but got out of hand. Maybe Tom had even killed his friend on purpose to throw everyone off track. It was a stretch, but wasn’t it possible that the roles of Erik and Raoul had been reversed in their real life play?
She pulled her arm away from Tom. “Then I guess we’re through.”
Rebecca ran down the stage, and out of the auditorium without a backward glance. She hoped she wasn’t too late to catch up with him. Luckily, Justyn wasn’t moving as quickly as he normally did. Taking the hallway at a sprint, she was able to reach him just as he was pushing open the main doors.
“Jus . . . Justyn . . . wait,” she called out, still slightly breathless from running.
He paused for a millisecond, and she knew he heard her, but he kept walking straight through the door without turning around. What he didn’t realize was that Rebecca had her stubborn side too, and she wasn’t going to be put off that easily.
“Come on, Justyn,” she said once she had caught up. She slowed her steps to walk in stride with him. “Don’t be this way.”
He grunted. “What way is that, Becca? I’m not in character for the crazed killer you apparently think I am? Would it help if I pulled out my ritual dagger and held it against your throat?”
The harsh tone in his voice made her flinch. “That isn’t fair. I wasn’t the one who said those things.”
“But you didn’t defend me either. I thought after last night . . . I thought you had realized.”
He let the sentence trail off. Rebecca lifted the eyes she had lowered in shame, too curious not to ask. “Realized what?”
Justyn grimaced, sucked in a hard breath through his teeth, and sat down on the bench at the edge of the student walkway. “Nothing, forget it. I don’t really feel up to convincing you that I’m not a murderer right now.”
Rebecca sighed and sat down next to him. She wanted to touch him, to comfort him, not only physically but emotionally. But she didn’t know what to say, and she was too afraid that he would push her away if she reached out to him.
“Are you okay?” That was the best she could manage.
“Considering the fact that your hero dumped me off a fifteen foot platform, I’d say I’m doing just fine.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Tom isn’t my hero. He’s a jerk.”
Justyn raised an eyebrow. “You’re just figuring that out?”
Rebecca felt a little annoyed at his patronizing tone of voice. Here she was, swallowing her pride, pushing aside her doubts, just to make sure he was all right, and he was giving her his normal Gothic attitude. She felt like tossing him off another platform.
“You know what, Justyn, you’re a jerk, too. The two of you have been treating me like some sort of prize in the macho wars since day one.”
He sighed and put his head in his hands. “If you think I’m that much of a jerk, then why did you waste your time following me out here?”
His voice didn’t have half the strength that it normally did, and she could see that it was hard for him to breathe without grimacing. He was making a valiant effort to hide it from her. It made her feel even guiltier.
“I’m the biggest jerk of all. I shouldn’t be arguing with you when you’re in pain. It’s just that you’re so frustrating sometimes.”
“You just can’t make it through a single statement without insulting me, can you?” He tried to smile but it turned into a grimace, and escalated into a moan. He put his head in his hands. “Aghhh, I should have listened to Darlene and stayed home today.”
“Darlene is a pretty smart lady,” Rebecca agreed. “Are your ribs hurting a lot?”
“My whole body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. And my head feels like it’s going to explode.”
Rebecca reached out her hand and gingerly touched the darkening bruise on his forehead. Even that light touch made him flinch. “You really got your butt kicked, huh?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an artist. Not a jock.”
“I suppose offering you a couple aspirin would be pointless.”
“I told you before, I don’t like to poison my body. Besides . . . .” He puffed his chest out to try to look tough. It wasn’t very convincing. “It’s not a big deal. I can take it.”
“Well, I don’t have any willow bark tea handy, but maybe I can help a little.”
“How’s that?”
“I don’t suppose you’re opposed to back rubs?” she asked shyly, and felt her cheeks flush.
He had to clear his throat to respond as he turned just as red as Rebecca had. “No, that’s pretty holistic.”
“Okay, then. Sit up a little.”
Rebecca reached her hands around to touch his shoulders, rubbing them gently. He was tense at first, a little unsure. She could feel where his muscles were tight and cramped. She kneaded the tight spots, and before long she felt his body begin to relax. She was never as sure of her fingers as she was at that moment. A warm heat was running through them and she knew he must have felt that same electrical charge that she felt every time they made physical contact. It was a connection that went beyond the physical and into something much more intense.
They sat like that for what could have been five minutes or five hours. Rebecca had lost her concept of time. They were silent for a while, but then he tilted his head up to look at her. Dark eyes watched her, filled with their normal melancholy, but also tinged with doubt and a little confusion. He wasn’t sure why she was there after the conversation he had overheard. She wasn’t sure why she was there, either. She only knew it was an urge she couldn’t deny, like the primal instinct to survive at all costs. Her instinct was to be with Justyn whatever the cost, however irrational and possibly dangerous it might turn out to be.
Justyn moved closer as he pushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. He moved his fingers down to stroke her cheek. He never broke eye contact, forcing her to look into the mirror of his soul. Rebecca felt her breath coming faster, her pulse starting to race. Her hands dropped from his shoulders to wrap around his waist, careful to avoid the area she knew was hurt. He moved closer to her lips, and she had no intention of denying him. She had no intention of denying him ever again.
“What is it about you that makes me feel like you’ve stolen not only my heart, but my soul,” she whispered as she leaned her head on his shoulder.
He smiled sadly, and continued to caress her hair as he sang to her in his clear, beautiful tenor.
“Your soul is filled with a beauty so rare.
With the power to bring both love and despair.
Which will you bring me, my angel of song?
A quick painful end or a love that’s life long?”
Beautiful words. Romantic lines from the play they both loved. Normally, those words coupled with his enchanting musical voice, would automatically make Rebecca swoon. But suddenly something occurred to her. It had never seemed quite as ominous as it did at that moment. Instantly her hands fell away from Justyn. She jolted back on the bench as far as was possible without falling off the edge.
Those words. They weren’t exactly the same as the ones she had heard before in the muffled distorted voice of her twisted stalker. It wasn’t the same verses as the ones written on the threatening notes. But both Justyn and the stalker used the same motis operandi. Could that really be a coincidence? The voice had a different tone. But could it have been Justyn’s voice? She couldn’t be sure. As the familiar sense of fear and mistrust slithered up her spine, she felt herself pulling further and further away from him, even as Justyn reached out to her.
“What’s wrong?”
“What you just said, what you’re always saying . . . it’s just like the message, like the calls and the letters.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The person who has been threatening me, the person who killed Jay and maybe even Mr. Russ. They always use lines from the play, just like . . . just like you. ”
Justyn looked confused at first and then horrified as the realization of what she was saying truly sunk in. She knew he was a good actor. His reaction didn’t really mean anything.
“Becca, it’s just a coincidence.” He swore to her. “I was just trying to be romantic. I thought you liked it when I quoted the play . . . I’m sorry if I scared you.”
He tried to reach out to touch her hand, but Rebecca jumped up off the bench, nearly tripping over her forgotten book bag in her sudden, panic stricken desire to escape.
“No, no . . . don’t touch me.”
She was really starting to freak out. She couldn’t control it. Hysteria was taking over. She was breathing hard, half crouched and ready to pounce. She was like a frightened, cornered animal.
“You really think I did all those things, don’t you?” The misery in his voice was undeniable, but Rebecca was too overcome with her own fear to dwell on it. “Why, Becca? Because I dress in black? Because I wear a pentacle around my neck? I thought you were different. I thought you could see past the stereotypes. I thought you knew who I was on the inside. You say you love the story of Erik, but you do you really understand it? It’s supposed to teach you that it isn’t the way someone looks that makes him a monster, but the way he’s treated that can turn him into one.”
Rebecca couldn’t meet his eyes. The way he was looking at her was too heartbreaking. His words made her ashamed. She wished she could tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t that superficial. But she knew that it would be a lie, at least partially. It wasn’t just because all the evidence pointed to him, but because he seemed to fit. If there was a killer on the loose, it had to be the freaky Goth boy, right? That was the conclusion everyone else had made. And she was the one who always followed the crowd.
She couldn’t deny it, not to him or to herself. She was afraid of him. Yet, something deeper inside of her was still drawn to him. She realized that despite her suspicions, she would never be complete without him, and she didn’t really want to let him go. But she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.
A little gold Suzuki pulled up in front of the school and beeped the horn. Through the open window, Darlene smiled and waved at her cheerfully, completely oblivious to the nightmare that Rebecca and her son were living at that moment. Somehow, Rebecca managed to lift her own hand in response, but she couldn’t even begin to force her lips into a smile. Darlene must have noticed her lack of enthusiasm because she frowned.
Justyn had picked up his bag, and started toward the car, moving slowly and with some difficulty, obviously in a great deal of pain. Rebecca watched him go, knowing she should be helping him, but afraid to move or even to speak because she knew that no matter what she said now, it was only going to come out wrong. Justyn always had a way of saying exactly what needed to be said.
“You were never a prize to me, Becca. From the first time I saw you on that stage, even before I heard your voice, I knew that I loved you. I thought I had found my soul mate. I guess I was wrong.”
Rebecca choked back a sob as he eased himself into the passenger seat. He loved her. Those were words she would have given anything to hear just a few short hours ago. Words that would have made her fling herself into his arms with reckless abandon. But now those words only tore her heart to shreds. They made her realize what a complete fool she was.
Even though they were too far for her to hear, she knew Darlene was asking him what had happened. Justyn just shook his head, and then leaned back against the headrest with his eyes closed. Darlene glared at her in a way that was beyond chilling. Rebecca had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t such a good idea to make a witch angry. What was worse was the horrible realization that she had just broken Justyn’s heart, and most likely lost him forever. And whether he was her real life phantom or not, she wasn’t sure she was ready to live without him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
An entire week went by without one single word from Justyn outside of when he spoke to her as Erik. Even then, his eyes seemed to glaze over, and she felt like he wasn’t really seeing her at all. She couldn’t believe how much she missed him. She had even resorted to changing her routes between classes so she might catch a glimpse of him. But he didn’t acknowledge her when she passed him in the hallway. She
was invisible again—completely invisible.
Tom wasn’t talking to her either, outside of the very casual, or the very necessary. Rebecca sighed as she watched him sitting quietly across the lunchroom. He had gone back to his old table with the basketball team, but he didn’t join in with their conversation. He wasn’t touching the pizza on his tray either, and she doubted that it had anything to do with whether or not it was actually edible. She had seen him scarf down worse. But everything had changed since Jay had died. It was like a part of Tom had gone with him. He looked so sad and lost without his friend at his side. And she had gone and made things even worse for him—just one more thing for her to feel guilty about. She was going to have to start a running list so she didn’t lose track of all the reasons why she should hate herself.
