Author's Note: -cheezy grin- Yeah, I named it after myself... if this looks like you've read it before... SHHH! -giggle- Anyway, onward with the story!

Death's Requiem

A transition from 'the living corpse' to simply, 'the corpse' wasn't going to be anything to outlandishly difficult for Erik.

Broken heart… broken heart… dying of a broken heart? But who would play his Requiem? The siren would no longer sing!

It was after all, his will, was it not? He was allowed to give up the will to live at any given time in his life, and this just happened to be that time. Christine, ah! His Angel. He had experienced true happiness feeling her warm lips pressed against his forehead, her tears sliding down his face. And in that moment of happiness, selflessness had taken over, and he had allowed the beautiful blond soprano to take flight with the young and handsome De Changy. And, ah! How his heart broke.

Dreams and fantasies… and he had realized it all to be nothing but false assumptions the moment that she pulled off his mask to reveal… his face. The horror that had pierced her blue eyes quickly made him lose control. He had twined his long fingers in her hair and demanded that she pull off this seconds mask. The feel of her nails piercing the flesh of his disfigured face did not penetrate the rage and pain that had shattered through him in those moments. With that look, she had all but assured him that he could not have her, by her own choice.

But, when the time came to make her live up to the promise of marriage, for it had been his ring that she had placed upon her finger, those tears… damn those tears! Erik had indeed suffered torment inside when he felt those tears, warm salty… those Angel lips pressing to his forehead. Nothing could have forced him to thrust such suffering and unhappiness upon her in that moment… and so, she had escaped with her Vicomte.

In truth though, what did he have to compete against the young man? Surely his voice rang more beautiful than any, and his intelligence… his accomplishments in building his house, his torture chamber… But no, the young man had innocence, youth, and strikingly handsome looks to support his love for Christine. All that Erik could offer was his undying devotion… obsession.

And so, what was left in this life? His Angel had taken fligt…, his last grasps at happiness had been snatched from him?

The Persian, he had already been informed of what was to come. Erik had simply relayed the events, and the outcome to him. Death… he was dying… dying of a broken heart.

And yet, the question still remained: Who would play his Requiem? The siren would no longer sing.

Mindless drabble, all of it! If he were to die, and it was a fact imbedded within his very soul now, he could simply hold Christine to her promise to return. The ring on his finger being his last rights, as she looked upon his dead body, not so very different from the shell that he now inhabited.

Oh Christine! She had broken his very soul, and damned him to Hell.

Damned to Hell, as he was sure to go… for the heinous acts that he had committed in his life. Murders… murder damned the soul. Only to be misunderstood—

not evil, for the deeds… deeds, half hardly committed by him! It was the Siren… the Siren simply sang their Requiem, bidding them adieu, and showing them to the door. However, when he realized that his heart had broken, when he realized that he would die of this ailment, the Siren had fled…

The Siren had fled! Who would sing his Requiem? The Siren could no longer sing!

WvWvWvWv

Erik's insane... get over it.

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