I wanted to portray Christine in EXTREME denial (which you will undoubtedly see if you read). And I wanted to use the idea that she didn't stay with Erik, because she thought she was sick for wanting him. So she's really, really trying to convince herself here.
Now in this little standalone I really wanted to tweak my writing style. I have never really written like this, so it's new to me. You'll notice Christine repeats a lot of the same things to herself. And with this, I wanted to again convey how desperate she is to believe her own words. She NEEDS to believe in what she's doing. So you'll find a lot of repeating of statements here. ;;laugh;;
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I am getting married today.
I am going to be Raoul's wife. And I have never smiled more in my life. Words cannot describe my joy. The moment we are finally married, I may just cry from sheer relief. Finally, I will be his. Something I have been wanting. Something I have been waiting for. I need this more than he knows.
I actually have been picturing our wedding all day. All throughout the entire preparation, I have been imagining, thinking about it…
I start at the very beginning of the ceremony. After all, what better place would there be to start?
I can see myself walking down the aisle to him. And I won't take my eyes off of his face. God, he will look so happy. He will be beaming at me, and my stomach will not be twisting the entire time. I will not feel guilty. There is nothing to feel guilty for. I love him. This is right.
And as I walk that's what I will keep saying in my mind. This is right, this is right, this is right…
When I do finally reach him, he grabs my hands and I will not look away. I will return his gaze. I want to see my joyful face reflected in his eyes. I need to see the tears that must be from happiness and only that.
And when we get to the point where he puts the ring on my finger, I will not freeze up. My mind will not flash back to a time that a simple gold ring rested there, instead of the beautiful diamond one that resides there now.
When we say our vows, I will look deep into his eyes, and I won't look away. I will not want to. And the words coming out of my mouth will not feel like venom to me. They will not feel like the ultimate betrayal of trust to everyone involved. It will not feel like I'm slowly killing myself.
And when he leans in to kiss me after we are officially married, I will not imagine another's lips. And I will not replace the blue eyes, with a pair of gold. After our kiss, as he takes me into his arms for a warm embrace, I will not shudder. I will not squirm away. I will relish it. I will relish the love. This must be love.
The guests will congratulate me on becoming a De Chagny and I won't cry. I will not give in. I will smile proudly and make Raoul so happy. And the fact that he looks so overjoyed will not give me all the help I need, because I won't need any help. It will be natural. What we have is natural.
And later when the guests leave, I will not breathe a sigh of relief. I will miss them. I won't be happy about being able to stop acting for a while, because it won't be an act. It will be real.
When we finally arrive home after the wedding, Raoul will give me a proper tour. And I will not take as much time as possible. I won't delay. I won't try to slow him down. I want to truly become his wife as soon as possible. So I won't prolong this tour. If anything, I will speed it up.
When he gets to my bedroom, I will make room for him at the door gladly. I know what's to come. I want this. I really do. I want him.
While he takes off my clothes, I won't shudder. I will not cringe. And I won't moan to mask my whimpers of protest. I can do this. I will do this. For him.
For us.
And as his hands roam my body, I will enjoy it. I have been waiting for this. I need his body and hands against me. I want his touch. I want this. And I will keep telling myself that.
When he slips inside me, I won't cry out. It doesn't hurt. Nothing between us could hurt. And eventually it will feel good. The pain fades with the ongoing thrust of his hips. And I will want it more and more. I want more of him, because he feels so good inside me after the pain is gone.
And I will not imagine a skinny body above me, instead of his toned one. I will not picture his tan skin replaced with pale white. I will not see his strong arms become long, graceful ones. I will not.
And when he finishes with a shout of my name, I won't hear a hard, musical groan of "Angel…" instead. No. This is what I need.
As I reach up to touch his face, I will feel his perfect cheek beneath my hand. I won't picture rough, mangled skin instead. Who would want that disgusting, monster flesh when you can have this? No one. And that's why I will imagine nothing. Because I am normal. There is nothing sick and twisted about me, because I don't want that. No. I want this.
Raoul will roll over and tell me he loves me, and I will say I do as well. And I will say his name. I will not say anyone else's. I don't need to. I only need him. Raoul.
And after he falls asleep I will cry from happiness. Not sadness. Of course not. Only happiness could come from this. Only happiness.