She quietly walked into the pitch black room quickly locking the door behind her. A chilling breeze suddenly swirled around her freezing their in her lungs. She began gasping to catch her breath, but as soon it was there it was gone having barely ruffled the hem of her skirts. She fell against the hard oak door feeling the carvings on the door scratch against her bare arms and shoulders. For a few moments she just stayed pressed against the door breathing deeply trying to remember why she had come.
She had come into her dressing room late that night after dining with Raoul. The night had been lovely, but she couldn't help feeling like someone was watching her the whole time. After dinner she and Raoul had went on a carriage ride around Paris. It was then that Raoul told Christine what she had already expected. He loved her and wanted to take their courtship to the next level. Though she cared about him she was unable to say that she loved him back. Instead she simply said that she was not sure if it would be possible, because of her rehearsal schedule. He protested, but she told him to give some time and ask her again. Truthfully she knew that it would be pointless for him to try again, because her feels were not as strong as his were. Her heart though she wouldn't let her self admit it lay with someone else.
Raoul ordered the carriage to take Christine back to the opera house much to her delight. He offered to accompany her to her room, but she told he she would be alright despite the resent attacks at the opera house. "I don't feel that is safe for you to be walking alone with that opera ghost loose." She laughed to her self and gently kissed him on the cheek goodnight.
It was true that it was not safe in the opera house alone, but it would be even more dangerous if he had accompanied her. She knew how the opera ghost could be. His jealousy and his passion. The murder of the stage hand had frightened Christine, because she knew he had done it for her. His love for her was becoming clear to her, but what she wasn't sure of was her love for him. Could she really love a man who has killed innocent people. What kind of future could they possibly have underneath the opera house? She wanted to experience the world and he would never allow her to if she stayed with him. But he had never forced her to do anything she did not want to do and never been unkind to her. He was a good man, but sometimes that isn't enough.
She reached her room and found it unlocked. He had been in her room, she could feel it. She reached for the gas lamp on the wall and turned it on. Her room was beautiful shades of pink and red. As soon as she stepped through the door she immediately faced a tall mirror reflecting back her image. She entered the room and began to undress.
When she finished she walked towards her bed with beautiful white sheet, but stopped and gasped. A black rose with a red ribbon tied around it lay gently across her white silk pillows. A note rest beneath it. Trembling she picked up the note and read it. "Come to me my angel of music"
There was a candle gently flickering across the darkness. Something was laying next to it, something red. She pushed away from the door. Her legs were threatening to not support her weight. Her body was shaking, the flame kept calling to her and she could feel its pull on her getting stronger with every step. She reached the candle and placed her hand on the long stemmed red rose resting next to it. She gently picked it up and felt the silk black ribbon tied around it. At that exact moment the candle went out leaving her in the darkness. Her breath caught in her lungs. There was nothing, but darkness and the sound of her pounding heart that had leapt into her throat.
The darkness gently brushed against her, but she was paralyzed, unable to fend it off though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. A gentle caress lingered on the back of her neck, while soft hands found their way to her middle. She felt weaker with every touch and caress on her neck. The hands worked their way up and down the front of her bodice. Her stomach felt like a giant pit. Suddenly she felt his chest against her shoulders. He was solid and even in the darkness had a commanding presence.
"Christine," he musically hummed inside her ear, "what is it that you desire the most?" She let out a slight gasp as she felt him breath gently against her. The feeling deep in her stomach was enough to make her scream. She felt like the room was spinning and at any moment she would fall over into his arms. "Come now Christine." He pressed her to him making her tremble. "Tell me what it is you want."
"Take this feeling away." She didn't know where her voice had come from, but now that she had it she wasn't going to waste it. "What feeling?" he asked lightly against her neck. "I can't stop dreaming about you. You walk in my dreams as if they were your own. When I look in the mirror I don't recognize my face and I swear to God all I can see is you. I'm empty and when you touch me you are touching what part of my soul I have left and that emptiness. It makes me weak and I can't breath. If you were to leave me I would fall and never be able to get back up." She hadn't realized how badly she was trembling, but he kept his arms around her giving her the only support she had ever had since her father died. " I think I'm going to die," she breathed. He chuckled softly in her hair. "You are not going to die my angle, because I am going to fill your emptiness.
"Please" Christine said weakly as she fell against him. He caught her and held her in his arms. He didn't need to hear anymore. He carefully carried her down to his lair to swan bad with satin sheets and silk pillows. He watched as she placed her hands on her stomach and tightly closed her eyes as if she was in pain. He grabbed both of her hands and pinned them to the bed on either side of her. Her chest and stomach heaved greatly. "Eric!" she softly cried. "Shh my angle, don't speak." A single tear rolled down her cheek. He reached out and wiped it away before it could fall. He leaned towards her and brushed his lips against her until they were apart.
Her hands found his mask and began to pull it away from his face. He grabbed her wrists and forced her hands back down. He pulled away from their kiss and looked into her eyes. "Don't do that. It stays on." "Please allow me take it off without struggle. I don't want to look at your mask, I want to look at you." He stared at her unsure of what her reaction would be if he allowed her to remove his mask. Christine's hands gently began to reach for the mask and this time were met by little resistance.
Her eyes remained call as the cavernous and very bruised flesh appeared from beneath the white porcelain. His face no longer frightened her. She pulled him closer and kissed his rough skin. Unable to stop himself Eric felt tears burn his eyes. He put his head next to her's on the pillow and buried his face in her dark hair. She could hardly breath as it was, her thin body was not meant to support so much weight that was baring down on top of her. Plus the corset she was wearing wasn't helping. "Eric," she breathed. "Eric I can't barely breath." "Oh God, I'm sorry! I didn't realize I was...I'm sorry." He said rolling off over gently.
"Eric please hold me," Christine said softly. He slid his arms around and kissed her shoulder. "I love you Christine and I want you to stay with me." "I know you do." "With time you will love me too Christine." With that he closed his eyes and began to fall asleep. "What you don't know is that I think I already do" Christine thought to her self and soon fell asleep.