Here's where the story's main character comes into play. I hope you enjoy!

Evilredhead1212

She hated the smell. The same smell she'd smelled for the past few years. She sat up in the bed and looked down at the stranger beside her. She didn't even know this one's name. She hated her father for making her do this. When her mother had been alive she would protect her from his abusive blows. Now, instead of physical abuse, he used sexual abuse. There was a new one almost every night. "We need the money," was his excuse. But she knew that he had a secret stash of money and that someday, hopefully soon, he would leave her and go somewhere far away. But tonight is it, she decided. I'm not putting up with it anymore. She got up and nervously walked into the room beside hers.

"Your time's not up yet. Get back in there!" he said, blowing his cigarette smoke in her face, only making her more angry. "I'm not going back in there, and I'm NEVER doing this again!" she said, as she spat in his face. With speed that surprised her he smacked her across the face. She could taste blood in her mouth, but she wasn't going to give up so easily. She simply turned and looked right at him, her eyes telling him that she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Very well, bitch. We'll see how long you last this time. He grabbed her arms and threw her on the floor. She tried to hold his hands to prevent him from hitting her, but he was much too strong. Several blows came to her head and chest. Her vision began to blur, but she wasn't going to let him get her so easily.

She stayed on the floor, and let him think that she was out cold. As he turned to walk away, she got up silently and hit him over the head with one of his empty liquor bottles. He hit the floor with a loud thud, but she wasn't done. He squirmed slightly on the floor as she turned him over, making sure that he could see her. Thank God he's drunk tonight, otherwise he wouldn't still be on the ground. She began beating him with every ounce she had. "How do you like it!" she screamed at a volume that surprised even her. With one fatal blow to the head, she heard a cracking noise that made her want to vomit; yet it also made her want to rejoice. He was dead.

Erik watched from far off as his daughter pecked away at his piano. He would sometimes catch himself thinking about the way things were at the Opera House, still not believing that all this had come true. A huge house that was secluded from the city, the perfect wife, and now he had a child. Christine came up from behind and laid her head on his shoulder. "She acts more like you everyday," she said with a smile on her face. "And she looks more like you everyday," he said as he placed a light kiss on her lips.