A/N: I was looking at my account this morning and realized I haven't published anything since September of last year! Where did the time go? Anyway, I decided that wouldn't do... I had to post something, even though I have a story going. This is only a five-shot, based mostly on the musical. Enjoy and PLEASE review!

Every night she sang, and every night I watched.

Sometimes, I wished I could be right next to her, singing with her. Sometimes I wanted to be in the orchestra pit so I could accompany her with one of the many instruments that matched her voice. And sometimes I wanted to be in the audience, so I could appreciate her from all angles.

But all of those were impossible, so I stayed in my dark corner and simply watched.

Have you ever seen her sing? The way she moved her body in proportion to the music, the way her eyes sparkled even from that distance… There was something magical about her performances. Everyone loved Christine. She was stunning, she was musical, and she was perfect. People from all over the world wanted to hear her sing.

I should have been used to it, I supposed. After the show, she was always surrounded by her many fans. Many of them were men. She never showed the slightest interest in any of them, my little love. Instead, sometimes she would look around at nothing, and give a little small smile, and I would know that was for me.

But this time was different. She came off the stage, looking radiant and almost glowing, her skin giving off the shine of someone who had just had an exuberant time and loved every second. Christine loved singing onstage. I never regretted allowing her. I just wished she wouldn't come off.

When she came off, the men were waiting.

Didn't I tell you, I should have been used to it? That she cared nothing for them? If I said it didn't bother me in the slightest, I would be lying.

I hated them all. I hated them for loving Christine, for looking at her beauty when it only belonged to me! Damn them for even approaching her when she was so desirable, so wanted by so many people. I hated them with a passion! I watched them crowd around her, and she laughed and obliged them with their questions, but constantly trying to get through them, so she could get to me. I continued to remind myself of this simple fact, nearly chanting it in my mind with its reassuring repetition.

I stayed in my corner, snarling a little when a young man fell back nervously as she pushed through them. Run off, now, I thought sourly as he looked sadly at the ground and walked away.

Christine continued walking through them all, her attentions focused on other things that the crowd surrounding her. Me, I thought hopefully.

"Mademoiselle Christine?"

I hated his voice first, because it was masculine and full of confidence, the very men I hated. I hated his appearance next, because he was tall and dark and handsome. And then I hated him because he made Christine turn.

What was it about him, that made her turn when she had refused all the other's attention?

This was bad.

She turned to face him, and he seized her hand and placed a light kiss on it. I had seen that before, too… It still made me sick with fury.

"I have dreamed of hearing you for many years," he smiled, and I instantly hated his smile, his white teeth overbearing in their arrival. "And I must say, you have exceeded every expectation."

"Why, thank you," Christine said, and her voice was light and thankful. She was not trying to push this man away. She was being gracious towards him, inviting his further. Did I see her hand brush his?

He made a little bow to her. I hated his bow. "From my country, they often spoke of the coloratura soprano who made men swoon. They spoke of your ethereal voice, but they hardly managed to covey your beauty."

Other people were watching them now, looking interestedly at the man who had caught the prima donna's attention.

Christine didn't look ashamed. She was smiling now, stepping closer to him. Her voice was like the angel's, so intoxicating… She was drawing him in just as surely as she was drawing me in, my hands now clenched tight around the wallboard.

I shouldn't have been watching! I couldn't breathe for pain, for anger… She was betraying me!

"Where do you come from?" she asked politely, her eyes sparkling with interest.

"A small town in England, mademoiselle," he answered. "But I hope to make Paris my home."

Like hell you will. Go back from where you came from. We don't want you here.

"Your French is very good," Christine said. She was complimenting him! She was noticing his voice, she was commenting on his speaking… His voice… My voice was supposed to control her, and she was noticing his. "What is your name?"

She was asking his name. She wanted to know his name.

I fell to my knees in anguish. A few people nearby turned at the small noise, but none could see me.

"James Parrson," he answered, and I hated his name. What sort of name was that? I would remember that name for as long as I lived, and remember how much I hated it.

"It was very nice to meet you, James," she replied, laughing a little. She called him James. They were past formalities now. Maybe they were even in love…

"Would you join me for the evening downstairs while we have dinner?" he asked, and her face grew sad with disappointment. I always thought she was disappointed when she couldn't see me after her show. That's what she had told me, anyhow; she had lied.

How could I have hoped to gain her love, when men like this were around? For two years, she has worn my ring, sworn her eternal love, held me when I cried in disbelief, soothed my every fear and worry, given me anything I could have possibly asked for… And now we are finished. I have enjoyed my two years, and now she sees fit that I am released. She is released. She is no longer chained to her hideous husband, who watches her in the shadows, because he cannot be by her side.

Oh, I hate him! I want him to die in every possible way a man can die!

"I'm sorry, but I am busy tonight," Christine said, and I had never heard such grief in her voice. They were so close now, they were almost touching. The hallway was mostly empty, and still clearing out. They would be alone in a moment… or so they thought.

"Perhaps another evening, then?" he asked hopefully, and she seemed to give him a little smile… a seductive smile, that made me choke with pain. My head was hurting, my chest was hurting… beneath my terrible sadness was a terrible rage… Someone was going to die tonight. And if I couldn't get to him fast enough, then others would go, too!

"Perhaps," she answered, and their hands brushed again. They both stared at each other, their eyes swirling with love and affection.

"Then, with luck, I will see you another evening."

His fingers twirled with hers, and she had to take herself away.

Every night, she has sung, and I have always watched her.

But I will never watch her again. Because I will never allow her to sing again. She will stay down with me, away from other men! She will learn, that she has given herself to me, and she has no self left! All of her is mine, for me to take pleasure in, for me to control. How dare she even look at him! She knows I am watching!

Oh God, she wanted me to see. She wanted to flaunt herself to others, so I could see who else she could have. She wanted to show me that she didn't love me, that she was moving on. Two years has been enough for her.

I loved her so much…

I watched her walk away, looking over her shoulder, and blowing him a kiss. He blew one back, and stared where she had been for a long time. Smiling to himself, he strolled the opposite way.

My hands trembling, I slid down the wall where I sat frozen.

I began to cry, hot, heavy tears that drowned me.