Chapter Nine
Christine stared at the spot he had been mere seconds before, briefly wondering how he managed to always disappear so quickly. And of course now that he was gone, she had absolutely no idea what she was to do. Was she supposed to return to her room like an obedient puppy? Or was this her chance to explore her surroundings a little more?
With little hesitation, she ended up choosing the latter option and slowly walked out of the dining room, pushing back the feeling deep down in her stomach that she shouldn't be doing this. He was the one who had left her alone without any specific instructions.. surely he didn't actually expect her to just go to her room when she had a chance to explore!
Of course, that helped soothe the feeling but it didn't push it away completely. Ignoring it, she walked down the long hallway, admiring the dark wooden flooring and many paintings which adorned the walls. Curiosity overwhelming her, she stepped closer to one of the paintings.
It was breathtakingly beautiful. Whomever the artist was had painted the most gorgeous red rose she had ever seen in her life. In fact, the only roses that she would have to compare the painting with would be the very ones that he himself had given to her all those times…
She sighed, gently tracing the strokes of the paintbrush with her fingers, remembering how simple those times were when her Angel had been just that… a celestial being from the heavens. Had it truly been only three days ago when she had still believed that he was indeed a true Angel?
Christine shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the past and regret that she had trusted so easily. Meg had always warned her that her personality was too trusting, that someday someone would take advantage of her sweet personality. And of course, she had been right.
She turned away from the rose, curious to explore more of this place she was now to call "home". Walking down the hallway, she saw many doors, but had no strong urge to enter into any of them except for the one that was way down the hall.
It was in the darkest corner of the hallway, for though there were many candles lit and adorning the walls of the hall, they stopped two doors down from where this particular door was.
She stopped directly in front of the door, reaching out and touching the silver handle to open it. She pulled her hand away, however, when she thought she heard footsteps coming towards her in the hallway. Nervously, she slowly looked over her shoulder behind her, expecting to see a very tall and very displeased certain person staring at her from the other end of the hall.
But to her surprise and glee, there was no one in the hall, and the mirror at the beginning of the hallway reflected nothing but the empty dining room. Sighing in relief, she turned back to the door and once more put her hand on the handle.
Turning it, she walked quickly into the room and shut the door behind her, her heart racing in her chest nervously as she did so. As she closed the door all the way, she felt her body relax slightly, though she truly had no clue why.
Christine slowly took her hand off the pure silver handle and turned from the door to look at the room. But it definitely was not what she had expected…
The room wasn't huge, but it definitely wasn't small either. But what caught her attention the most was the seemingly thousands of paintings which hung on the wall.
Slowly she let her gaze travel over each and every one of them in horror. The paintings… were of her.
In some she was smiling, in others she was simply staring off into space, and one in particular had captured her sleeping.
It was as if she had stepped into a roomful of mirrors, for that was exactly how accurate the paintings were of her. Everything from her hairline to the way her nose was shaped had been captured to the utmost perfection.
"So she has gone exploring, I see.. Does this room meet you're approval Mademoiselle Daae?"
Christine turned sharply to confront the ever-familiar voice of her Angel in surprise. He was standing right behind her, with that triumphant smirk on his face, as always. How he had managed to get into the room without her hearing him, she would never know. Of course, he did many things that seemed to make him almost unhuman in his uncanny abilities to appear and disappear at will.
"Must you always sneak up on me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she quickly looked down at the floor, avoiding his intense gaze.
"I was not, as you say, 'sneaking up' on you, my dear. As I have previously mentioned before, this is my house and I may come and go as I so wish to. I do hope that is not a problem for you, Christine."
"It's not." She muttered, turning away from him to look at the paintings once more. "Who did these?" she asked curiously, wondering how one could paint her to such perfection when she obviously had never posed for any of these paintings before.
"I did."
He smirked, taking a graceful step towards her as she looked up at him in shock. "You? But how did you do these when you have never even seen me posing like that?" she asked, slightly intrigued but mostly extremely horrified.
"I watched you all the time Christine. True, you never actually posed for me per say, but I have seen your beautiful face far too many times for me not to be able to paint you simply from my memories of you."
She stared at him, growing more horrified with every passing second that he spoke to her. She slowly dragged her gaze away from his to inspect the paintings once more, suddenly starting to feel very sick to her stomach. She turned towards the door and started to walk past him, but he gently grasped her arm, smirking at her as his gold eyes glittered dangerously.
"Leaving so soon, Christine? Oh but you haven't even seen the best painting! I am quite proud of it, and therefore you absolutely must see it."
She followed him, completely unresisting, as he led her across the room and through a door that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She felt as though she had no mind of her own, which was pretty much the way she always felt whenever she was near him.
Upon hearing the door closing behind her, she looked up to look around at the room she was in, but it was completely dark. Flinching, she inched closer to him, having a fear of the darkness which now currently surrounded her.
He smirked at that, using her closeness as an opportunity to wrap his arms around her, just as a light started to slowly shine on a particular spot in the room.
Christine's eyes automatically were drawn towards the light, but she immediately felt lightheaded when she saw what it was.
It was, once again, a painting of her. But this was one pose that she herself had never even felt herself in.
In the painting, her hair fell gently past her waist in tight chocolate curls which looked as if they were made of silk. Her emerald eyes shone with life and happiness, and a small smile graced her face, revealing her teeth ever so slightly. She was holding a small bouquet of red roses, and the ring on her ring finger matched the one Christine was currently wearing.
But what shocked her the most, however, was the absolutely stunning white ruffled wedding dress she was wearing.
The world slowly started to spin and then turn black as Christine fell unconscious. She did not notice the dark glint in his golden eyes, nor did she know that he carried her to his room shortly afterwards.
….*…..
"Christine, you must stay strong. You can go on without me little one.. my Little Lotte…"
Christine sobbed, holding onto her father's body with all her strength. "No, Papa! Don't leave me, please! I need you still! I'll be all alone…"
Her father opened his mouth to respond to her, his face contorted in pain and yet still he managed to give her a gentle smile. However, his eyes grew increasingly lifeless and his head slowly fell back as he started to take his last breath…
"No!"
Christine let out a strangled scream, tossing in the bed as the nightmare of her father's death continued to go on, torturing her with every single detail she had for so long wished to forget.
Immediately he was by her side, recognizing her distress about a nightmare. It was easy for him to identify it as such, because he, too, suffered from nightmares often. Of course, he couldn't imagine that his Christine would suffer from nightmares as horrid and gruesome as his own, but he guessed that they were more than likely concerning her father's death.
Gently he took her in his arms, his hand stroking her hair gently. "Christine, my darling wake up… It's just a dream. Christine…"
Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him, her eyes filled with utter terror. Christine started to cry, clutching onto him for comfort as she closed her eyes and simply let him hold her, drawing comfort from his mere presence.
{Guess what! An early update YAY! Many thanks to those of you that have already reviewed! I love to hear from you guys! Also thanks to all of you that have followed or favorited this story! It inspires me! So, till next time! Review? :) ;) }
