A/N: Thank you so much to all my reviewers! It means so much to me! Sorry for the long wait, btu I just wanted to get this up before I go on vacation. So after this I won't be able to update until tuesday. So enjoy this chapter and please review!

Chapter 3

"Emma?" asked Erik, who was truly in awe that I would come all this way after him.

I looked at him with sadness and joy. I was happy that I had finally found him, but was also pained still by what had happened only yesterday. How would I explain all this to him?

"Hello, Erik," I said politely. "I am glad that I have found you at last."

Erik looked stunned. "Why?"

I was a bit saddened by his lack of more complex questions, but I still continued on. "Something has happened."

"What? Is Christine alright?"

My eyes narrowed. Of course his first concern was for my mother, and it took all my strength not to yell in his face. I took a deep breath and continued onwards. "Well…"

But before I could continue, Nadir had something to say. "Pardon me, but would you like to finish this inside? You look awfully tired. Perhaps something to drink as well?"

"I would be most grateful, Monsieur," I replied as he ushered me inside.

When I first entered the house, its beauty nearly took my breath away. It's walls were covered with the most wonderful artwork, mainly paintings, and the inside trim was all gold. Then I went into the living room, where the fireplace was burning brightly and there were two big maroon velvet chairs sitting in front. There was also a patterned green area rug covering part of the already green carpet. The white accents in the rug particularly added more beauty to the room, and it glowed stunningly against the fireplaces' flames.

The whole house awed me beyond all reason; I had no clue that someone could live this richly, and by themselves too! I wondered if Nadir had ever had a family of his own, but when I stole a glance over at him, there did not seem to be any hidden sadness under his calm demeanor. I watched as he walked over to the one of the chairs and sat down. He leaned forwards and grabbed a teacup off of the coffee table that was placed in front of him.

"Would you like some tea, Mademoiselle?" he asked politely.

"Yes, please," I replied as I too went over and sat down in the other chair.

Erik was still standing in the hallway; he had yet to enter the living room after Nadir and I. I was unsure if this was because he did not want to speak with me or if he was still stunned that I was here. Either way, I would be sure that I would talk to him, for that was the whole reason that I came here. Yes, I could not forget that. The politeness of Nadir and the beauty of the house had almost made me forget the whole reason that I had come here in the first place. Perhaps it was good that I had for a moment forgotten all my troubles of the past day or so, but I still desperately wished to speak with Erik on the matter. Still I had my guesses on how he would react to the news of Raoul's death. First I could see his eyes light up at the mention of my father dead, and then turn to sadness for the pain that it had caused me. Of course, I would prefer to get this response, but it was the other reaction that I thought I would get. He would hear of the news and then jump out of his seat asking questions about Christine. Why did she do it? How is faring with a death on her hands? Where is she now? He would ask all these about how my mother was doing without even noticing the pain I was in. Indeed, I did not want that response.

Coming out of my thoughts I turned my attention back to Nadir, whom had just moments before given me a cup of tea. I did not fancy tea much, but I needed something to drink, and my manners told me to accept the cup that Nadir was offering graciously. After I had taken a sip of the steamy tea, I looked over at Erik who was now standing by Nadir. Nadirs also looked at Erik and then back over at me.

Placing down his own teacup, he stood up. "Well, I think I shall go for a quick morning walk. It looks quite lovely outside, and I do enjoy the scenery."

Before either Erik or I could object, Nadir had gotten up and went out the door. Now I was alone with Erik in the room, which for me was somewhat uncomfortable. I did not know what to say to him and what I wanted to say I didn't know how too. It was apparent to me that Erik was in the same discomfort as I, though of he course he was expecting me to speak first. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably and then moved into the seat opposite of me that Nadir used to be sitting in before he left. Once he sat there, the silence continued on until I couldn't stand it anymore.

"So how long have you been living here with your friend?" I asked casually without making any eye contact.

"Just since that night I visited your house," he replied coolly. I could tell that he had not completely gotten over what I had accused him of, though I myself still believed that he only wanted me because of my mother.

"Nadir seems nice," I said, still not ready to take on the subject of my fathers death.

"Oh yes, very much so."

"It's a lovely house as well," I continued as I looked about me at the room.

"I actually helped design it for Nadir," Erik stated.

My gaze shot over to Erik who was looking at the flames in the fireplace. I did not expect his skills to have traveled this far; I only thought he had helped build the Opera House.

"Really?" I asked, trying to stifle how surprised I actually was.

"Yes," he continued as he looked at me. I tried to hold his gaze, but found it too painful, causing me to look away and fiddle around with my now empty cup. "After he saved me and took me here," said Erik," the house was only just finished on the outside. The inside was completely empty and unfurnished. I took it and added more rooms and carpet and the fireplace. Actually, everything in the whole house I did. Nadir was horrible at it." Erik chuckled. "He actually wanted one room to be brown and orange. Two horrendous choices, if I say so myself. But alas, this is how it came it to look."

"Well, it looks splendid," I said as I nodded my head.

I could still feel his penetrating gaze on me as he spoke. "You know, Emma, I was quite surprised when you showed up on this doorstep. I truly did not believe that you would come after me or ever want to see me again." He paused. "So tell me, my dear, why did you come here?"

I swallowed hard. This was the moment that I had been dreading. Would he care about how I felt? Or just ask about Christine? I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I turned towards Erik and was just about to speak when a knock came at the door. My head swiveled to look at the door and wondered who would be out there. Surely it would not be Nadir, for he would not knock at his own house. I wondered if I should get up and answer it, but my gut told me not to answer someone else's door, so I stayed in my seat. When another knock came from the door, I heard Erik rise from his seat. I watched as he walked briskly to the door and opened it.

I gasped when I saw who it was and could only imagine Erik's response to the woman standing there. It was my mother. Why she knew he was here was beyond me and I was deeply confused. My brow furrowed as I strained my ears to listen to their conversation.

"Oh, Erik," my mother cried. "I am so glad that you are here. Is Emma here as well?"

"Y-Yes," Erik stuttered. "Would you like to come in?"

"Oh, thank you. I have had such a tiring day," she said as she walked inside. After going a few steps inside, she turned back to Erik. "Has she told you what happened?"

Erik shook his head. "No, not yet. We were just discussing that now, before you came."

"I am interrupting. Perhaps I should go," she said quickly as she turned to leave.

"I think it best that you stay, mother," I yelled after her, causing to stop immediately. "You of all people can explain what happened best. I barely even know myself. All I have are my memories now."

Christine turned back slowly and walked into the living room where I was seated. Walking slowly she approached me and looked at me with pained eyes. I held her gaze with a hard look, to let her know just how much I loathed her at this moment

"Emma, if you would just let me explain…" she began, though I interrupted her.

"And what exactly is there to explain, mother? The fact of the matter isn't why you did it but that you did do it! Nobody was forcing you to! You did it of your own accord, and nothing you say can take away any of what you did," I said fiercely.
She now had tears falling down her face as she spoke, "I know that what I did was unforgivable, but please, if you would just listen."

I folded my arms as I still sat there. My silence told her that I was listening and she stood behind me as she spoke.

"Your father took everything that I ever loved away from me. My music, the Opera… I never told him how much it hurt me when those things were forbidden to me; I guess I was too afraid of what he would do. Over the years I let all that go and moved on with my life. Then when you disappeared, he… he developed a drinking problem. He would stay out all night it seemed and come home half awake and laying on the doorstep. He always drank and it seemed like there was never time when he was away from alcohol. But the other night, when you came back to us, he was still drinking. Even though you were safe with us, he still would not let the alcohol out of his sight. Then the morning of the incident, we started to argue and he began to get ruff with me. I ran away but he still followed me and it led into the kitchen. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I grabbed a knife. At first I only cut his arm, but he still pursued me after I ran off again. When he cornered me in the bedroom, he tackled me to the ground. I had no other choice but to use the knife. Please believe me, Emma. The only reason that I killed your father was out of self defense."

"You killed Raoul?" Erik blurted.

Both my mother and I shot out heads over to look at Erik, who was now standing in the living room with us. Before he was standing a little ways back in the hallway, but at the sound of "Raoul" and "knife" he couldn't help but come into the same room as us. Christine looked at the ground and tentatively nodded her head. I stood up from my seat and walked over to Erik.

"My father is dead, Erik," I said coldly. I turned to my mother as I continued. "And according to her, it is my fault."

Christine looked up at me, baffled as to why I would say something like that. "What? I do not blame you for any of it!"

"If I wouldn't have gotten lost and went away, my father would not have gotten a drinking problem and attacked you!" I yelled back.

"Your father started drinking of his own accord! No one made him become an alcoholic! No one made you get lost! No one made him attack me!" she said firmly.

"Christine is correct, Emma. Your father must take responsibility for himself. You cannot take it for him," Erik said calmly.

I turned my gaze on him. Of course he would side with my mother! He loves her and cares only for her. His whole goal in his life is to make her his living wife. Not to like me, or care for me, or anyone else for that matter; just so that he and Christine can live in their own perfect world. No doubt she killed my father just so it would be all right for her to go and wed Erik. They just want it to be all right for them to be together.

"I can't believe you two…" I said quietly. I did not really mean for this to be said aloud, but…

"What do you mean child?" asked Erik.

"All you two care about are each other. You just want everything to be perfect for you two, no matter who you hurt along the way."

"That is not true, Emma!" yelled Christine with tears flowing down her face. "You are my daughter and I love you! I would never do anything to harm you!"

"Then why did you kill my father?" I screamed back, letting all my anger out.

"Because he attacked me! He would've killed me if I had not retaliated!"

"Better him than you, right? Why are you so selfish?" I yelled before I turned away and stomped up the stairs down the hall. Behind me I could hear my mother crying freely now, but I didn't care. She needed to feel bad, to feel guilt, about what she did. If I needed to be fierce about it to make her see that what she did was not justified in the least, then so be it. I would not stand by and do nothing after what my mother had done. If she would not even apologize, show the smallest amount of regret, then I would not show forgiveness.

It is a fanfiction sin to read and not review!