Many things he'd endured, but Erik was uncertain he could endure her eyes turning cold. He looked at the small hand that she'd left on his own. If he told her and she pulled away, he did not think he could endure that, either. Better not to... Erik swallowed, and finally caught her hand in his. Folding the tips of her fingers between his thumb and first three fingers, he drew her hand up to his lips and brushed her knuckles before releasing her hand. He couldn't. He couldn't feel her pull away.
And yet, he knew she probably would -- and with good reason. He needed to know, though. He needed to know that she knew him. He needed to know that she could accept him for who he was. Swallowing again, he forced his fingers open to release her delicate little hand.
"All of it," he said, his melodic voice turning soft. Christine looked so very much like his mother, so very much. His mother had never looked at him with softness, never kissed him as Christine had. "I was..." He should have practiced this. He swallowed again and dropped his gloved hands over the arms of his chair. Concentrated. By degrees, the uncertainty of the man disappeared. What was left was the powerful aura he carried around with him -- nothing weak, nothing less than dignified, and wholly commanding. He drew himself up from the chair and stood, though it was an effort indeed. He needed to stand.
"I was born without a face," he finally said, as simply as possible. "My mother hated me and I hated her. I was also born with perfect recall. There was no time when I did not wear a mask. On my fifth birthday, I first refused to wear it. It was then that my mother brought me to a mirror..." Erik paused. Skipped a little of that story. "I became fascinated with mirrors, after that, and quickly mastered the art of illusion. I could make anything disappear, Christine; it was magic! I could make anything disappear -- anything but my face."
Erik drifted to the window of his office and stared into the night. "I also loved architecture, and my mother allowed me to be privately tutored by... oh, he was a very well known master. I learned ventriloquism as well. But my true skills were in music. It's always been music.
"My mother was young and widowed, and still quite beautiful. A doctor came to our small town and became enamored with her, but he was convinced that I was ill and needed to be sent away. Eventually, it seems our town agreed; they came for me when I was 9, and ended up killing my pet... they nearly killed me, as well. Her doctor saved us, but I knew I couldn't stay. He was sure to propose, and rather than continue to ruin her life, I left them to start a new one together.
"I was found by a Gypsy camp, who discovered in me an oddity that would generate a good income for them. They named me 'The Living Corpse' and caged me. I eventually gained some freedom when they learned of my skills with illusion. I was more valuable as a showman, then, you see. They took me through Europe, where I learned a great deal about herbal remedies and medicine. The Gypsies feared me just as my town had feared me. When I was 12, I..." Erik paused, glanced over his shoulder at Christine, and avoided the topic of rape. "I killed my first man," he finished. And waited. And finally turned to look at Christine again. His eyes were hooded, his face a mask in itself, and his shoulders were squared and hard and tense. He showed no emotion on his face. He'd shut himself up inside his own persona and watched from the inside for what she might think of him.