Here's the second part
On the other side of the door you were in an entirely different universe and the only thing you could have seen was devastation... That depressing view wasnít only due to the appalling state of the apartment Ėwhich looked as if a tornado had passed at least two times-, but because of the current state of the man that was living there.
His name was Erik Destler and he was in an indescribable state of anger. He had never seen God as anything else other than a persecutor and now, if it was even possible, he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone else. The king of heaven had taken away the person that mattered the most to him and the day of forgiveness ĖErik was sure of it-would never come.
By doing that act, God had given him the last proof he needed to stop believing in his kindness. More, if the all mighty
had been able to restrain himself with his cruelty, Erik would be getting married in front of him in a few hours! But no, of course, God as the heartless master that he was didnít do anything and had let her died! She had been everything to Erik and barely ten months ago, they had been together; laughing and smiling in their own world, away from mischief and grief. Her name had been Jane and she was now gone, forever.
The worse thing of all wasnít only the fact that he had lost the love of his life, but the fact that even if he enjoyed blaming God for everything, he
was the guilty one; he
had killed her. He hadnít meant to of course, God had planned everything! That holy spirit had hated him from the day he was created and even before; making him with a face that only one woman could love and no, it was definitely not his mother. Jane had been that woman and to aggravate the curse he had placed on Erik, God chose to take her back and in the most unimaginable way.
Erik often thought of joining her, but he knew that God would never permit it; in hell he would be sent. He was now alone in a world where he truly didnít belong. The only person that was still there for him was far away, on another continent and Erik was a very independent man; he didnít need him nor did he need Jane... No, of course he needed her! But what could he do? Even in death they would be apart. He was probably one of those mistakes of Godís, not supposed to be more than a regret.
During the past night, the only thing that was on his mind was the smile of Jane when he had proposed to her. He was seeing it, again and again, as a woken nightmare that didnít want to end. At 4:00 that morning, he had gone mad. He had let all the fury he had kept locked those past few months flood away and letís just say that the result had not been beautiful.
He had begun his havoc by destroying every single mirror that was in his apartment. He punched them with such violence that the majority of them were now left in fragments on the Prussian blue carpet floor. He was so numbed by fury that he didnít feel anything, it was like his anger was protecting him from suffering; however, it didnít stop his skin from bleeding. After that, he had thrown everything he could against the white walls of his apartment. Chairs, tables and many other kinds of furniture were now in a pretty bad state. Well, so was he.
His entire body was shaking furiously and his bloody hands were in a despicable state. He looked as if he had run non-stop during two hours or more: his black and short hair was incredibly wet and his breath was irregular. He was a mess. All he wanted to do after that was to play piano; for music was the only haven that could never be taken away from him since he was its master.
In the tempest of emotions in which he was prisoner, Erik had completely forgotten about his bleeding hands and he had began to play a fast and repetitive rhythm on his keyboard. It was a scary sound to hear and a scarier scene to watch.
The Devil himself couldnít have produced such a thing.
It seemed as if Erikís madness was flooding around the room in such a strange harmony that it was frightening and wonderful at the same time. That song was full of rage, of sins and still, no soul could have resisted its temptation. More, his deep and mesmerizing voice made him look like the most powerful man in the world. Words were flying away from his mouth with such an inhuman strength that they seemed to create the same kind of wave that an explosion would have provoked.
Erik was so engulfed in the magic of music that he played for practically an entire hour without realising that the usually white keys of his piano had been darkened by a deep scarlet color. Disgusted with himself for tarnishing such a beautiful thing, he took a serviette and began to rub the keys frantically. Before he began the cleaning, he even took the time to slip on black gloves; he didnít care about the burning sensation on his skin, he just wanted the piano to be majestic again. This
is how he had spent the early hours of this distressing day of May. A day that could have been the most beautiful of his life.
Now, he was stretched on his queen size bed, his entire self empty of any energy. He didnít know if he had been there for a long time and honestly he didnít care.
Actually, he just wanted to sleep so deeply that this awful day could finally pass without him having to notice it. His eyes were closed and his whole body seemed less tense. He wasnít in peace nor in harmony with himself, but he was at least beginning to feel less keen; it was probably due to the exhaustion.Knock! Knock!
Erik sighed loudly. Nobody ever knocked on his door, so why
today? He was definitely not in the mood to talk to some dull-witted character.Knock! Knock!
That person was probably more stupid than he thought. If he wasnít there the first time, there was no way he could have appeared the second. Knock! Knock!
Well, apparently stupid was a euphemism.
Lefevre was getting more and more impatient by the minute. He knew that he could use his spare key, but he was still a bit afraid. He didnít know what kind of surprise was waiting for him in apartment 202 and if he was honest with himself he didnít want to know.
As he raised his hand to knock again, the door opened.
The man that appeared looked like a very sophisticated man to Lefevre. Except for the strange white mask that adorned his face, his appearance was impeccable: he was wearing a dark tuxedo with a carnelian silk shirt and his hands were hidden under gloves that fitted with his outfit. All of these little pieces of clothing gave him a look full of mystery.
More, for someone that had provoked such a huge crisis in the building, Mr Destler looked rather calm; maybe too calm. "Now that Iím here I hope you have a good explanation for bothering me at this hour of the day, monsieur."
Lefevre was stunned. Not only had that man caused him a lot of disagreements, but he had the nerve to ask him why he was there! That was completely ridiculous."If youíre here for the rent, Iím sorry to tell you that Iíve sent it two days ago. You should receive your money soon and next time, please, be more patient so neither of us will have to lose precious minutes of our time." "You know as well as I do that this is not the reason why Iím here!"
, said Lefevre in a strained voice while his hands were intensely fidgeting. "Really?"
Erikís tone of voice was beginning to anger the old man. He was speaking with such arrogance! Lefevre breathed deeply and closed his eyes; he was here to have a peaceful dialogue with his strange tenant, not to start an argument. "I am here because Iíve been informed that youíve disturbed some of my other tenants this morning. You wouldnít happen to know why by any chance?"
Even if Lefevre was surprised by his own audacity what surprised him the most was, with no doubt, the answer given by Mr Destler."Indeed, I do." "Well, explain yourself!"
, Lefevre practically yelled as he began to lose his dispassionate attitude."I was simply doing a few modifications to my apartment.""Modifications! What kind of modifications? Because from what Iíve been told, it would seem to me that youíve destroyed your habitation."
Erik started to chucked slowly. "I have read the rental lease my good monsieur and as it is written in point 3.10, every tenant can make modifications to his apartment as long as he assumes the responsibilities if any problem was to come out of it. I intend to respect that rule and if I recall, there is no mention of what is or what is not acceptable modification."
For a few seconds Lefevre stayed silent, unable to find anything to say back. That man seemed to be very educated but still, there was something in his attitude that appeared rather childish to the poor man; as if he was being manipulated by a kid that didnít want to get punished. Yes, that was it: his tenant was trying to use him as a brainless puppet. He had to react and fast."Well monsieur
, spat Lefevre with a growing rage, "That is not the point. You may have the right to do as you wish in this apartment; however, it is not a right to disturb peopleís peace of mind."
"In that case, I think you should go. You are quite a disturbing character and as you said, it is not a right to bother people, is it?"
Once again, Lefevre was left dumbfounded. What could he have answered to that anyway? His own words were thrown back at him and Mr Destler didnít seem like the kind of man that would give up on anything; there was no way he could win that argument. As the door closed in front of him, Lefevre wondered if he was getting too old for this job. He drove back home with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he should have been more firm, more prepared and should have used his authority, but he was a coward. It was so much easier to be the good owner than to punish his tenants! Anyway, it was the first time that something like that had happened and it was going to be the last; at least thatís what he hoped.
For what was left of the day, no more disagreements happened to Lefevre; he even had the time to enjoy a well deserved black coffee.
However, around 8:00 that evening the phone rang, again, and it was with a desperate voice that he answered.
"Hi, am I talking to Mr Lefevre?"
That was Lefevreís second surprise of the day. Even before answering the phone, he could hear Mrs John screams in his head but the person with whom he was talking was definitely not her. Her feminine voice was soft, angelic indeed."Are you still there?"
asked the young woman with a hint of anxiety. "Oh! Yes, my apologies Madame. How can I help you?"
"Well Iíve seen your little advertisement in the newspaper and I wondered if the apartment was still available."
That was a tough question. Yes, it was still available, but it was also on the second floor. Should he tell her that by living there sheíd have a strange and potentially dangerous neighbour? Well, this morning incident only happened once after all, he could lower the rent a bit and everything would be alright. "Yes, of course it is! When do you think youíll be ready to move in?"
This was probably the reason why Lefevre always found himself with special phenomenons as tenants; he accepted everyone with closed eyes."If it is not a problem, Iíd like it to be done before the end of the week. Wednesday, perhaps?"
"It will be perfect, miss?"
"Daae, Christine Daae."