Christine smiled and wrapped her arms around Erik. I shuddered in disgust. I never wanted to be with a man again. One had hurt me, badly. I'd planned on my first time to be with a lover, husband specifically. But no, I was raped. And worse than that I was now carrying. So was Christine, only she was a happy mother-to-be with Erik's child. I don't know why she came back, but she chose to. She was in love with him…
I don't want to say that I am too. But, I have feelings for him. Strong feelings. I want to be held by him the way he holds her. Gently and sweetly. He'd never hold me like that.
Erik was recovering from a bullet wound. Raoul had shot him. But, from what we know, Christine killed him out of anger. Raoul is rather smart, I'll give him that, he very well could have faked his death, but I don't think he is that good at thinking ahead. Erik gives me vocal lessons in exchange for me to bring them food, soap, clothes, and other things they may want or need. Christine is due in a month, I'm only a month a long, no one assumes anything. Not even Maman.
"Here, I brought the things you'll need this month." I smiled and sat the bags down. Erik acknowledged me with a humph and Christine stood with a little effort and came and hugged me, thanking me profusely. I don't like her while she's pregnant. She's annoying.
"Oh, Meg, you don't know how much I appreciate you do you? No, you don't! I thank you very much. From the bottom of my soul!" God, shut up. I thought, she went blabbering on and even Erik looked like he was about to pound down on the organ with his forearms and cover his ears.
"Oh, no problem." I smiled cutting her off. She looked surprised, obviously forgot completely what she was talking about and proceeded to go on about something else. Erik started playing the notes in his head and Christine shut up and listened. He gave me a look of contempt and I shuffled out.
Really, I have no idea what I've done to receive that man's hatred but, I've got it. Ninety-nine percent of the fibers in his body loathe me. The other one tolerates me because Christine is technically my sister, and I lover her as if she was. She's childish, and naïve, and doesn't understand much of anything, but I love her all the more for being that way. I am a thinker, and a sarcastic woman at that. I'm short, but I have an ample bosom, blonde hair, and blue eyes and a very curvy body. Unlike most ballerinas. See, Christine is my opposite. She's tall, not well endowed when it comes to breasts, brunette, brown eyes, and a more boyish figure. But- she's a singer, and thus men like her more, they respect her more. She's not a member of the corps de ballet, she's a diva. And they love it.
I don't.