Christine was incredibly lucky to have been allowed the pleasure of leaving Erik still the upright virgin that she was. It was, perhaps, his own innocence that had kept her intact. He had never imagined that in his life he would be granted that moment. A moment alone with Christine where, despite layers of garments, he was able to be pressed between her dancer's legs. A moment of sheer authority over her that left both of them breathless.

But she would no doubt return to her handsome lover, forgetting the passion and the beauty of such an intimate moment with her masked tutor. She would forget the feel of his misshapen lips sliding against hers in an overwhelming kiss.

Erik could weep at the way that such a touch had broken his heart into two. If her simple brush against his deformed cheek had broken him, then he was damned to burn in the fires of an eternal Hell with the kisses and touches she had displayed towards him in the last day. If he had taken her like he had desired to, he would have died. He didn't deserve the beauty of a moment like that with Christine.

Christine deserved her first time to be with someone handsome and whole. Someone who could perform for her the epitome of perfection on her wedding night. She deserved a room that was bathed in warm golden candlelight and not blotted out by darkness to conceal the face she had already seen. He wouldn't ruin an intimate moment with Christine by forcing her to stare up into the hideous abomination that was his face.

But she had stared up into that face, even dared to touch it with her curious exploring fingers, and kiss it. Christine had defied the logic that for so long he held to. No one could accept him for his face. Except Christine had done it now. She had accepted him like the virgin angel that she was. But he couldn't let her mar her perfection with his sin. To steal her innocence and lose his own seemed to be a sin far worse than murder. He had spilled the blood of many poor souls, but to draw that blood from Christine was not his right in life.

He didn't deserve to take her body when he possessed Christine's voice, her mind, and her soul already. He swore that he owned Christine, that she was his – but he was willing to let the fop be her first and only. He could deny himself the joys of the flesh that he longed to sample. He wanted to know how it felt to be one with another human being. Not like the exquisite feel of a kiss, that until mere hours ago he had also been denied. He wanted to know the true meaning of bodies entwining in passion, two hearts made one, two wholes combined into one.

If there was anyone that he had a chance with experiencing such breathtaking and blinding beauty with, it was Christine. But he could not bear to break her heart by forcing her into his bed. It would be force no matter how willing she was to be with him. She was innocent enough to convince herself that she had to please him like she had always done. Her kisses were no doubt in response of some obligation she had convinced herself she to him. They were not true affections, who could willingly show affection to a hideous monster like him? When a mother couldn't love her own son for his unfortunate face, why would a young, living, angel chose him? Not when there was a handsome and rich fop begging for her hand and her heart.

Raoul had a world of beauty and safety to offer Christine while Erik could only provide a dark cavernous world beneath the Opera House bound to the maniac maestro that made his life by composing music and murder. That was the difference between men. Raoul had pure intentions despite his immoral behaviour with past suitors and friends of the night, while Erik had darker intentions with an innocent and previously untouched body. They were polar opposites, and to Erik he was not the most favourable selection.

~o~

Christine did not want to be left alone to mull over the last eighteen hours of her life, but all alone in the quiet dormitory posed the perfect opportunity for her mind to argue with itself. She lay haphazardly spread across the dormitory bed, the very one that she no longer liked because she had experienced the lush comfort of the swan bed bellow the Opera House. The bed she wished she could return to nightly, but he would never allow it.

Erik treated her as though she were a fragile porcelain doll that would break at the slightest touch, despite the two occasions he had thrown her to the floor like disobedient dog. He contradicted himself more than she contradicted herself. He would deny himself of her touch, shy away and become coarse and then he would throw her to the ground and pen her beneath him as though she were a wanton whore for punishment.

She would not allow herself to be treated like that. If her were going to press himself against her amidst layers of clothes then he should follow through with the actions and not leave her to attempt to unwind the coil that was tightly wound inside of her.

What was she saying? What was her mind thinking? Where did these fantasies of letting him have his way with her come from? Was it the ballerinas that so frequently talked about their latest conquests as the laced their shoes? Or perhaps the chorus girls who talked so openly about last night's screwing as the powdered their faces?

The dark fantasies that played in her mind could only come from an outside source when her own experience was limited to bating away Raoul's adventurous hands and feeling him pressed against her hip as he cradled her against a wall passionately. But never had Raoul's advances flooded her mind with such sweet delicious feelings. Never had they set a fire burning inside her belly that she feared wouldn't be doused. Never in her life had she felt such longing for another human being.

Until Raoul had reappeared in her life she had never kissed a man, except a childish kiss she had shared with Raoul when they were very young. But she had thought that his kisses were satisfying, that that was how kissing a man was supposed to feel. She wondered why it was that any of the ballerinas enjoyed kissing, it felt cold and unfamiliar.

Erik's kiss had turned her soul inside out and flooded her veins with a strange dark desire. Now that she was alone and away from Erik, no longer feeling the strange cold heat of his body pressed close to hers she felt incomplete. It had first been his voice that left her ears longing to hear it again, then his music that left her soul striving to experience it again, then his touch that left her skin crawling for the slightest brush, her lips thirsted to feel his consuming kiss, and now he left her body aching to feel him everywhere.

She begged for God's forgiveness for the sinful nature of her thoughts, but they filled her with such bliss that she felt that they could not be wrong. How could something so glorious be wrong? Wrong was the fact that she felt confined to the silly decision to marry Raoul. Perhaps it was some providential blessing that it had not been made official yet. She still had time to escape from the binds of a marriage she didn't truly want. Was this the answer to her prayer? Her father's heavenly guidance?

Bless his soul if he was guiding her towards the right decision. He had always told her to follow her heart. To look with her heart and not with her eyes, the heart always knew and the heart never lied.

With Meg's encouragement she had thought Raoul was the answer to her prayers. She had knew him once and it only seemed like God's doing to bring him back into her life for some reason. But now it seemed like a terribly wrong choice. She didn't love Raoul, but she wasn't certain if she loved her Phantom.

"Christine?"

Christine bolted upright in her bed, seeing Meg standing in the doorway of the dormitory. In her hand was a red rose, tied with a thin black ribbon. "What is that?" She knew exactly what it was, it was a token she had become all too familiar of with Erik.

"Mother says that this was just delivered for you. As well as an order from the higher power insisting that you are to be returned to rehearsal with no further repercussions. The owners as well were just informed that you are to play the lead for Ill Mutto. Mother says it's ludicrous for Carlotta to accept the role of the Page Boy. Come, before there is any further insanity caused in your absence." Meg passed the rose to Christine, giving her a slight smile. "Who is it from?"

"It is from him." Christine couldn't help but let a bright smile form on her lips. Despite whatever madness Erik was causing with the Populaire, she knew that it was not over. She could control the rest of her decisions. She would break off her engagement with Raoul and convince Erik to allow himself to accept her. It would work. She was certain of it.