Decided to start this and see where it takes me. I technically got the idea from someone else, but it's still my own storyline. I don't know how many chapters it will be.

For the love of God, REVIEW PLEASE! I love you all.

I sat in the wooden rocking chair facing the only window in our small, damp house. Erik preferred that I didn't call it our house, for it was a lair, a lair in which only a monster would live in, and that I was the only exception. I wasn't fond of the word "lair", though. Erik was right—when one thinks of lairs, they envision monsters and evilness, when Erik—whether he wanted to believe it or not—was the exact opposite of such things. I always tried to persuade him into believing that, to convince him that he was an angel, more of an angel than I am or ever would be, but it only angered him further. It wasn't often Erik lost his temper with me—he has quite the temper, and he knows it—so he tries his best to maintain himself when I upset him. I really hate when I upset him.

And that's exactly why I was dreading the time when he gets home. He had been out for a while now, doing what, I do not know. He usually leaves a note or something when he leaves the house, but not today. It's been several hours since I'd find out, and yet I still could not keep my knees from shaking, or my stomach from fluttering. The medic's words rang through my mind still.

You're pregnant.

I shut my eyes and let my hands wander to my stomach. Nothing really felt different. Despite the morning sickness, increased appetite, and other symptoms that came along with pregnancy, I still felt like Christine.

But shouldn't I feel different?

It's been over a year since the night of Don Juan, and I haven't forgotten. Honestly, the entire ordeal of that night took a huge emotional toll on me. For months I wasn't the same as I usually was; it felt like time was passing slower, like I was missing out. Beautiful fall days felt gray. Erik's smile didn't hold the same feeling it used to with me.

After Raoul and I left on that dreaded boat—which, might I add, I still have trouble getting in and out of, and have in fact fallen out of several times—I thought of nothing but Erik. Nothing. I knew I had to go back, and I did. I don't regret it in the slightest. I love Erik with my entire mind and soul; he is my everything.

And yet, I still fear what his reaction to my condition will be.

In truth, I've always thought about motherhood. Since I was a young girl, my dying wish was to raise a little child of my own; someone who will never leave me and love me unconditionally; and whom I would love unconditionally in return. Just envisioning a sweet little baby in my arms made my heart flutter…

And then I heard a door slam shut.

I escaped my thoughts and quickly stood up, wondering how long exactly I'd been sitting there. I tried not to look too nervous.

"Christine?" I heard him call my name. I didn't reply, I didn't know how to.

"Angel?" He called again. "Where are you?"

I heard his footsteps approach the room I sat in, our room. I stared out the window still, paying no notice to my soon-to-be husband walking in the room. I gasped when he wrapped his arms around my waist, cradling my stomach.

Did he know! He had to know. No, of course he didn't. He's a man. Men don't detect these kinds of things.

My internal dialogue seemed to chatter endlessly.

"Angel…" he whispered into my ear. "Why have you not spoken to me all day?"

I kept my head down.

"Did I do something wrong?"

His whispers were heartbreaking.

"Angel…"

He was a heartbroken man.

"I need to tell you something," I spoke, finally. Keeping silence wouldn't make the issue go away. But was this really an issue?

"Yes?" He asked with so much uncertainty in his voice.

"Erik," I turned to face him, taking his hands in mine, "I'm with child."

His face completely paled, as if that were possible, judging by his already-translucent skin. He stood there, in utter shock, for a few seconds. When I heard a deep growl, erupting from…him.

"Arrgh!" He shouted, pushing me aside and twirling angrily around the room. I backed up against the wall, only for him to come up and grab me by my shoulders, forcing me to look at him head-on.

"How could you let this happen?" He growled.

"Me? I believe it is you who is supposed to be careful about this kinda stuff!"

"You don't understand, Christine. What if he is like me?"

He let go of me and backed away, sitting down against the wall and rubbing his face in his hands. "I don't want him to be like me…" his voice trailed off.

"If he is like you," I walked over to him, sitting by him. "Then he will be the sweetest, kindest, smartest boy—or girl!—to walk on this earth."

He looked at me. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Then I'll love him unconditionally," he faced me, "do you really not know me well enough to understand that looks don't matter to me?" He still kept his head down. I ran my palm over his back. "It's all gonna be okay, I promise…"

Repondez, si'l vous plait.

(respond please)