CHAPTER SEVEN:

Erik POV

My angel fell back, unconscious from apparent shock. I lunged out and cradled her gently, lifting her in my arms.

She wasn't very heavy. I had lifted far more corpulent people in my time. Keeping her secure in my arms, I carried her to my bed.

I considered whether I should have shown her the mannequin so soon. She might have fainted from horror for all I knew. I wouldn't be surprised. Horrified faces weren't exactly new to me.

Laying her down on the red satin blankets of my bed, I noticed how tightly the strings of her corset were tied. Hesitating for a moment, I quickly undid the bow and pulled the strings looser, trying not to let my fingers rest too long on her décolletage.

This seemed to help, for she exhaled loudly and began to breathe more freely, but did not wake up.

I had a perfect view of her tantalizing red lips. It would be too easy to just lean down now and… No!

I banished those thoughts from my mind. I was sure I would not be able to control my actions if I succumbed to the urges that whispered in the dark recesses of my mind.

I did, however, let my hand brush beneath her jaw, trying not to savour the feeling of her delicate skin too much. She was far too perfect, and I scorned myself inwardly for disturbing her slumber like this, though she hadn't stirred, even slightly.

"You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night," I sang to her quietly, to ensure she didn't wake. I reached up to the long cord connected to the curtains and pulled down once. The black lace draped down over her, creating a partial screen.

I watched her for a moment, her eyelids flickering slightly as she dreamed. A little smile crossed her face, and I was almost certain it wasn't me she was seeing.

I left her alone with her dreams, after winding up the monkey music box that I created to remind me of a long lost toy I once had with the gypsies. Gypsies! Even the name filled me with loathing.

I shook that thought from my mind and moved silently to my model of the opera house.

Pulling out an embossed card, I began to write my next letter to the new managers. They hadn't followed my instructions very well, and I wasn't pleased with them at all.

I finished the letter very quickly, my mind over-flowing with ideas of what to say. I took my time signing my nom de plume "O.G." I couldn't help but smile when I thought of it.

Slipping the card into the envelope, I sealed it with my signature seal, a skull leering out of the wax. I set it to dry on the table, entertaining myself with the model. I moved the figurine of Carlotta over to the fat one of Piangi, and made up a few foolish conversations in my head to pass the time. I knew I was far too old to play with toys, but somehow I enjoyed it. I supposed it was because I was never allowed to engage in such childish activities when living with my mother.

I revelled in switching the heads of Carlotta and Piangi, her sausage-like tresses cascading down Piangi's fat stomach.

I never understood how he put up with that woman. She was utterly unbearable! I supposed he was desperate for any woman, and Carlotta's standards were fairly low. All she needed was a pack mule to throw her belongings on, as long as he had at least the air of a Don Juan.

Don Juan…

The antics caused my creative genius to kick in, pestering me with notes to a captivating song.

Giving into the urge to create, I stroked the cheek of the figurine of Christine with my fingertip before striding to my organ, and began to play gently, so Christine could continue to sleep.

I don't know how long I was there. I didn't really keep track of time that well, but I know eventually Christine's voice joined in with my music.

At first, I thought I was imagining it, but in time I realized she was behind me.

"I remember there was mist, swirling mist, upon a vast glossy lake. There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat… and in the boat there was a man!"

She was making sense of her surroundings. Well, it was a good thing; I couldn't deceive her forever, or at least it would have been callous to do so.

I looked back at her. She stood outside the threshold of my bedroom, still wearing her nightgown, but without her stockings. She gazed at me with innocent eyes like a child, and I looked back to my music.

All of this was for her, but I could see in her eyes she returned none of the devotion to me that I had shown to her the previous night.

I closed my eyes. It was completely out of my character to pursue her like this, when it was so plain that I didn't have a hope in the world of capturing her heart. I had always been able to get what I wanted through force, but I doubted that would get me anywhere with her.

I felt her slowly approach me, and her hand rest upon my shoulder. I turned to look at her, curious at her newly found courage. Her hand reached toward my face, and I pulled back a little.

Her fingers caught my cheek and began to caress it, which I had never experienced before. For as long as I had known her, I wondered what could ever repay all that I had done for her, but the simple touch of her hand melted away all thoughts of debt to me.

It was hardly anything to relish, but the action was more loving than anything I had ever received and I couldn't resist the sweetness of her touch.

I let down my guard willingly, basking in the radiant warmth of her palm. I regretted it a second later.

My mask came loose from my face, and I heard the gasp of repulsion as she drew away. It had been a ruse! Of course she wasn't going to give me affection, who on earth would want to? Anger and betrayal flooded my mind, and I threw her to the floor.

"Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon!" I yelled at her as she cowered at my feet. I stormed to a mirror, covered by a white sheet and tore it off. Removing my hand, I forced myself, and her if she watched, to look at the abhorrent mess that made up the right side of my face.

"This is what you wanted to see!" I breathed, before throwing my hand over my face again. All the self-control I had possessed evapourated and the monster within me rose up in a violent rage.

"Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free!"

I strode down the stairs, pushing over a candle as I went.

"Damn you… curse you…" I stood in silent rage, staring through the waters as I thought. A foolish mistake, I should have seen it coming.

A small noise reached my ears.

Chancing a glance at her, I caught the tears flowing down her cheeks and my temper dissolved inside me.

Oh, Christine…

My hatred was back, but this time it was directed at myself. It was because of me that my Angel cried. Everything in this world was frightened of this face! What could I do but be a monster. Even to my Angel I was a monster! I tried to do things for her, but, I could not bear to be imperfect. It was far too late for that.

I could not vent my anger at her, but yet I could not comfort her without her flinching away from me. It was best to try and reason with Christine.

"Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even dare to look, or bear to think of me." I could see she didn't want to, I didn't blame her for that.

I had scarred her for life, no doubt. She the last person I ever wanted to cower before me. I could see she only remained because of fear, but I didn't let that thought affect my will of iron.

I kept my hand over my face so she wouldn't have to suffer the repulsion evidently churning within her.

"This loathsome gargoyle, who burns in Hell, but secretly yearns for Heaven, secretly, secretly, secretly." My eyes fell upon the mannequin of Christine I had made, perfect in almost every way. But I could not make it love me, nor the real Christine either.

"Christine…" I rounded on her, and saw her flinch back. I didn't approach her as quickly as I first intended, but instead slowly climbed the stairs between us.

"Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster~" I severely doubted my words, but didn't think it was wise to let her know I had given up all hope. It was futile to look for a man, when there was only monster within.

"This… repulsive carcass, who seems a beast, but dreams of beauty, secretly, secretly… secretly." I looked at Christine, who I realized was crying not in fear any longer, but in pity… pity for me.

"Oh, Christine," I whispered, feeling my own tears betray me as I sunk down on the stairs. She was the beauty I dreamed of, the only thing that could save me from this Hell. I saw her approach, and looked at what she held in her delicate hand.

My porcelain mask trembled as she handed it to me. I reached out and took it from her, making sure not to touch her hand. She didn't need to be terrorized more than she already was.

Slowly, I put the mask on and stood up. I brushed away the tear that rolled down my cheek, feeling the impenetrable wall around my heart close up. I turned back to her, trying not to let compassion seep into my gaze. I could never be truly livid with Christine. I loved her far too much for that.

"Come we must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

~0~0~0~0~

Christine POV

The Phantom offered me his hand, and I took it. He pulled me effortlessly to my feet and led me down to the boat. I did not feel as entranced as I did last night. In fact, I felt very disconcerted.

The mystery behind the mask had been revealed and I had been utterly shocked to see my wild theory was correct. He wasn't the perfect man that I had wished him to be. He was disfigured, ill tempered and even ugly.

Still, I could not help but feel sorry for him, and I now could understand why he had hidden so long from me. No one could have accepted him before. He may never have had a mother or a father, which was a thought that startled me greatly. That would mean him and I were closer than I had first thought: we were both alone in this world.

He led me into the boat, and I sat down obediently, wiping tears from my eyes. I kept picturing his face, that I realized hadn't scared me that much at all. I had only be shocked it was damaged, not horrified with how bad it was.

Well, it had been extremely bad. Folds of mottled skin running up and down his cheek and temple; his skin around his eye pulled down so it sagged: it was as gruesome as I had ever seen!

But somehow, I couldn't fear his face, but rather I feared the horrific temper he had shown me. I had betrayed him, and he had punished me well for it. Even as he propelled the boat away from the cavern, my heart was pounding faster than it should have.

As we were halfway down the canal, the question Andre had asked yesterday floated into my mind.

"Monsieur?" He looked down at me sternly, no warmth within his gaze. I was a little discouraged, but I decided to ask anyhow.

"What… may I ask your name?" He did not reply, continuing down the river and I sat in silence for the rest of the trip.

I was left to wonder, and reflect on legend of the man who I had always doubted being real. Joseph Buquet was wrong. He had no parchment-like skin, and certainly there was a nose there, even if one side was deformed.

Even though he had been more vicious then necessary to me, I still felt I deserved it. I would have done the same thing in his place, especially with my hidden temper. Maybe we had more in common after all.

We arrived at the same landing platform, but there was no horse waiting there. He led me to a door that was partially concealed in the wall and opened it. Strangely enough it led to the hall leading to the ballerina's dormitory.

I nodded and stepped through it. I sensed this was the end of our time together, when he called my name out.

"Christine?" I turned back, looking into his mysterious eyes.

"My name is Erik," he murmured, and gestured I was free to go. I turned, but thought of another question.

"Erik, am I going to see you again~" I looked back but he had already gone. "~tonight…?"

I entered my dormitory feeling the weights of the past bearing down on me, and I lay upon my bed, exhausted. In an instant Madame Giry and Meg were at my side.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" Madame Giry asked, straightening my covers. I nodded, for there was nothing else I could do.

Meg rushed off, saying something about fetching water, and I looked to Madame Giry.

"I will tell everyone to leave you alone, my dear," she informed me, patting my hand. I grabbed a hold of her arm with a vice like grip, stopping her dead. I was a little delirious from shock and my eyes were growing tired as my tears dried.

"You said he was my Angel," I whispered, "but he was only a man." And with that, I slipped into my dreams, not able to keep my eyes open any longer.