And here is the chapter when things get exponentially more crazy. Specifically, Erik gets more crazy. Or was he always this crazy and hiding it well with Christine being so close? ...yeeeep...

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. Keep 'em up! (especially as I have encountered some real writers block around chapter 15... probably do to my promotion...at least I got a promotion? Yay?)

Enjoy!

If I were Gaston Leroux and owned POTO and it's characters, I wouldn't be cleaning the toilets today because the house cleaner can't come in... (this is for my business mind you. I'm not rich enough to have my own house cleaner lol)

Chapter Ten

The next morning, or at least, what she understood to be the next morning, Christine lay in bed longer than usual. Her father had always taught her that staying in bed too long was no good for the body that is ready and willing to move once awakened, but she couldn't bring herself to starting her day. She had lost all sense of routine having had each day since being there be changed dynamically. This only fueled a pit of anxiety that was usually kept at bay. A light headache stuck in her temples and a queasy feeling grew in her gut when she asked herself, What happened last night?

Replaying the events of dinner, she remembered the wine, remembered how bright his mask seemed to her in all the dim lights, then she got to the couch..but how did that happen? Not having remembered putting the diary on the nightstand, she took it anyway and began to write, hoping it would rejog her memory.

Fourth day here? Fifth?

I don't remember...oh God I don't remember anything. OK dinner: salad. He made me keep drinking. I've never even had more than half a glass before! Daddy told me that only immature people lose control of their drinks and I always wanted to be as mature as I could…

It was like I couldn't stop my words from coming out. I mentioned his mask. I don't think he liked that but I can't remember now… Um, God it all hit me so fast! So much faster than I would have ever wanted! I wanted to go to bed, but I didn't go to bed, no, I was on the couch...but how did I get there? I stood, but I didn't stand, not really and he… He carried me! He must have! That's it! But why...I was close to him - no - sitting on him. And he was keeping me there. Why didn't I move? Why couldn't I move? What did I say?

It felt nice. He even felt nice. Warm even.

Through a blurry mind's eye she began to remember snippets of things. The lights having been dim. The smell of something relating to aftershave. The feeling of fingers lightly dragging through her hair, just over her sensitive neck. That was one of her favorite feelings, something that Raoul hardly did and she was too shy to ask for. It reminded her of the days her mother would do her hair in the mornings and how it always calmed her. Sometimes her father would playfully scratch her there and it spoke to her of love.

The feeling of Erik's arms around her, how eventually a blanket had been wrapped around her, locking her tightly in a comfortable cocoon that he kept tightly to his chest. His quiet voice singing her the most beautiful songs. And what she thought had been the combination of the roughness of his mask and the softness of his lips on her temple. Lastly, her dreamless and heavy sleep.

At one point she remembered waking during the night with an intense need to use the bathroom. She was in her bed, still in the same clothes, even with the blanket around her, just under the sheets as well, but there was an indention on the top of the comforter on the other side of the bed, a warmth that had left when she came back to where she had been sleeping, and the feeling of eyes watching her exit the bathroom. It felt to her like the closest encounter with a ghost she could ever remember and she was sure to tuck the comforter over her head once back in bed.

Her feelings were mixed. While what she had remembered of the night before were comforting to her senses, they were just as uncomfortable to her heart. She didn't like being some kind of doll to him. She definitely didn't like having had that much wine. Regardless of how relaxed she may have been at the time, she still did not like him. The feeling of dislike grew in her so much that she eventually left the bed, went into the bathroom and threw a few random items from the sink. They all landed in the tub and she sighed, deciding that a good shower was what she needed.

Erik had not changed clothes since the day before. Light as it was, he did not want the scent of orchids to leave his shoulder, or the even slighter scent of wildflowers to leave his arms. She was perfect. He went beyond his own boundaries the night before. Once she had passed out on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck, he wanted to keep her there much longer, but knew the bed would be of better comfort for her. Scooping her up inside the blanket, he eventually took her to the bed and placed her under the sheets. Not having her with him brought a painful coldness past his arms and right into his core. He never wanted her to be even that far away.

He knew what he had done was wrong. It hadn't been planned as it happened, but it was just too easy to do. During the meal he noticed her head begin to sway, her eyes begin to drop, but most notably, she relaxed, completely relaxed. He thought that if he could only show her that he meant no harm to her, that he could bring her small pleasures that he knew she craved, that she may not be so frightened any longer. Granted, he knew he had given her too much, that the first glass most likely would have been enough, but his hopeful thinking lead him to even take a sip himself.

That was when his fear had been brought up. While she had never spoken of it, she had noticed the mask and was thinking of it. He had to get her to a place where she couldn't see, to a place where she could only feel his love with no distractions. It was then that she agreed to marry him. She had agreed on it and he wondered if she would remember what she said this morning. His mind turned into a frenzy of thoughts as soon as she had fallen asleep. Arrangements had already been in place, but now there was a living bride to fill in the gaps!

Now that their future was in place, it seemed all too natural to him to take the opposite side of her bed, staying on top of the comforter, but laying down just inches before her. Her face was so peaceful and the way her hair fell around her face made her glow angelically. He reached out and placed a hand on her warm cheek, eventually placing a few strands of hair behind her ear. The darkness wrapped around them and he brought his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. Her nose was touching the nose of his mask for brief moments until he slowly, tentatively, and as shyly as a child, learned just a bit to the side, and kissed her pink lips.

It had only been for a second, he was not going to take any further liberties than that. She made a small noise in her sleep and pulled away as she woke. She did not see him on her way to the bathroom and he was gone once she came out.

His thoughts of the night before were interrupted by Khan, who stood directly before him, blocking the entrance from his library to the hall (which had not been opened prior to his assistant's coming in). Khan looked tired, but ready for a fight. He held a news paper in his hand.

"Khan you imbecile! She's awake!" he was inches before him, ready to take a hand to his neck.

"It's over, Erik, you've won her." Khan said quietly, holding two pages of the paper out for him. Erik snatched them away and gave himself some distance to read it away from Khan. The story was clear on the front page..

Millionaire Son Found Dead.

Raoul Chagny, a recent graduate of Juilliard and son of investing tycoons Roberto and Benetta Chagny, was found dead in his parent's pent house approximately 6:45AM, three mornings ago. He was discovered unconscious in his room by his landlord Jon Marvolio. Police and inspectors on the scene are stumped as to what happened to Chagny. They are near concluding that it was a suicide by a rare type of middle eastern poison. The poison is highly expensive and rare, but because of Chagny family's extensive reputation with wealth, the inspectors (turn to page C6 for complete story)

Erik turned the pages a bit too quickly and ripped a few advertisements clean off. It was no matter to him, he never read those tacky things anyway.

…were not too surprised. What has baffled inspectors was that according to close friends, Chagny was very content with life. "The last person to talk to him was his girlfriend, but I was the second to last as far as I know. He was very happy with life. He had a pent house from his parents, he was planning a new career as an actor and he had a fantastic girlfriend and an upcoming touring show…" says Edward Chang. The only conclusion that makes any sense is the sudden disappearance of his fiancee. No one knows why she ran away so quickly. It is for that reason that the police are under the believe that he may have ended his life. That case is currently under investigation while police search for Christine Daae. As of now, she is no where to be found and police have a warrant out for her arrest. If anyone knows anything of her whereabouts they are asked to contact the New York Police Department without delay. As for Chagny, there will be an open funeral in two days at the…

Erik didn't need to read the rest. It didn't concern him and to put a damper on things, the writer was one of his least favorites on this particular paper. Nonetheless, a smile crossed his face as he folded the paper and moved to a far shelf, pulled at a tall book, and hid the paper in a secret compartment behind it. Everything was working. Best of all, Marvolio was not in suspicion. He always knew of his dark past even if he had tried to turn from it. Erik knew exactly how to make him turn back his new life to relive a little of his older deeds. The plan could not have been more perfect and the Chagny's could have not been more ignorant.

"No one suspects a thing?" Erik asked quietly.

"No one."

"All the DNA samples were fixed?" His voice so low that Khan could barely hear.

"I arranged it all myself, as you requested."

"Everything else is in order." Erik walked towards a bookshelf and lay a hand over the wood.

"He is...safe. And where he will not be a bother."

His finger clenched the wood, "Yes."

"If nothing else, Erik," Khan took a step forward, "that was very good of you."

Erik pulled away from from the shelf and Khan and attempted to set his interests on books from across the room, "Don't lecture me on good and evil. I have a tendency to get them confused." He picked up a Korean medical book and began to look through the pages in order to distract himself further. When he turned around, he found Khan still there and hissed, "Why are you still here?"

"The girl?" his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"What about her? She doesn't concern you."

"Is she...coping?"

"She fine." he snapped, "Leave before she's ready."

"I doubt that, Erik. Unless she has a case of Stockholm Syndrome, she will never be 'fine.'"

He waved a finger into Khan's face, "That is not what this is. Not after all I've done for her!"

"You kidnapped her-"

"I saved her!" he boomed.

"Erik-" While he knew the distance was hardly even that, Khan had held his ground too long. Erik moved so quickly that he did not have a chance to step back before he found himself fully on the floor, the dark man's shadow falling over him.

"Erik?" A small chirp of a voice was heard behind the closed wall.

Khan couldn't see it, but the sharp click of metal being prepared to fire was enough. Erik spoke low enough to make the book vibrate, "Now." And in mere seconds Khan had left, leaving no time to sigh at the door as he usually had.

Erik replaced the small gun and opened the space between himself and Christine. She was found near the bathroom, a comb in her hand, her hair still wet from the shower. For a moment, he was lost at the idea of her taking that shower, how perfect she must have felt, letting the hot water fall down her bare beautiful body.

"Erik?" she repeated, now holding the comb close to her, as if in protection.

"How are you feeling, dove?" he asked, colder than he meant to, still swatting his previous thoughts away from his mind as if they were flies.

"I heard a fall."

"Some books, I believe."

"It sounded bigger." she said quietly, her trust in him even less than the day before.

"It was nothing for you to worry about. Are you almost ready for breakfast?"

She looked down to the comb and frowned, "I don't want breakfast."

"Are you ill?" he took a step closer to her and saw how she flinched, almost moving back into the bathroom.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Do you have a headache?" he restrained himself from taking another step forward.

Her hand turned into a fist, and anger was brimming in her soft eyes, "I don't want to eat with you. Not ever."

"Well since you claim to be too good for suicide," he sneered, "you will be eating with me again. Many times."

"No I won't!" she stomped her foot and he wanted to kiss her for she was so beguiling when like that. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"You're no good at being angry, dove, it simply does not suite you. Breakfast?"

"NO!" she screamed, throwing the comb to the ground.

He sighed, went to where the comb had fallen and picked it up, landing him closer to her than before. She was standing her ground as best she could, though he could tell how badly her legs were ready to run. He held the comb out to her, "You dropped this, dear," he spoke as smoothly as silk.

"I don't want it." she crossed her arms.

"How are you to finish your hair?"

"I don't care about it!" she swatted the comb that he still held.

"Temper, temper," He clicked as she scrambled out of his way as he crossed into the bathroom. The smell of soap and flowers still hung in the air and that air was still humid. He delighted in his senses for a few moments and then turned back around to her, being sure to keep his reflection away from the small mirror over the sink. She was unconsciously rubbing the ring on her left hand and he smiled, "My lovely," he whispered as he took her hand slowly and proceeded to kiss it. The contact they made with his lips made her jump and pull away.

"What happened last night?" She nearly screamed.

"You do not remember, my pet?" he asked very casually.

"You drugged me!" she accused.

"There were no drugs, I am sure of that."

"You made me keep drinking! It was your fault!"

"Perhaps we need to work on your tolerance, dove." he chuckled.

"Tell me what happened!"

"I'd rather show you." he purred.

"What?"

Before she could any further away, he took her wrist and began to move towards the library. She was not willing to move and tried grabbing the bed, then the doorway, but he was too fast. Finally she yelled, "I don't want to go in there!"

He went to the couch and sat, jerking her quickly so that she fell on top of him. "Let me go!" She squealed, but he kept her there, just as he had the night before, keeping her chest to his, her head to his shoulder, her legs wrapped together on one side of him even as she tried to kick him.

"Do you not remember this, dear Christine? You could not have been so far gone to not remember."

"I don't want to remember!"

"Be still, pet." He held her so close to his chest that she started to have trouble finding her breath. With his other arm, he pressed her legs into the couch so she couldn't kick him any longer. "Breathe, dove, don't faint."

"I want to go." she said through gritted teeth.

"Is this so terrible?" he asked innocently.

"I don't like you!"

"That was not my question, dove."

"Let go!" she cried.

"I'll make you a deal, pet, so long as you do not move away, I'll loosen my grip. This is not how I held you last night and how are you to remember if I'm not showing you the truth? Now, will you take my deal?"

There was a pause, then, "Yes." came her murmur.

He let her straighten up enough to look at him and tried to ignore her shaking. Her blue eyes sparkled slightly with angry defeated tears and she did not look at him, but instead glared at the opposite end of the couch. Blonde wet hair was now matted across her face and he reached to pull it back. When his hand made contact with her cheek she clenched her jaw and stuck her nose up, her eyes still not meeting him. He began to slowly stroke the back of her head as he had the night before and she winced.

"Is this so terrible?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." She answered back quickly.

"Lair." She tried to move away, but his grip tightened in her hair and on over her legs, "Our deal." He reminded her and she stopped, her back straight and alert, her shaking visible, but he went back to trying to sooth her.

"Do you remember? Has your memory been jogged?" he asked again.

"Can we eat breakfast now?" she whimpered.

"So you do want breakfast?"

"Yes." No more than a whisper.

"Maybe."

"What more do you want?" her voice quivered, but this time it shook not with fear. This amused him.

"What do you mean?"

"You've won! You've taken everything from me! I don't even have my personal space anymore! What more could you want?"

In a second she found her back against the couch, her head on the arm rest. He cornered her there between his arms, her legs, she found, were now across his. He leaned down to her face, only inches away and she felt suffocated by the big white mask.

"Oh believe me Christine, I could want more. I could want much more, but I have not stolen that which I want you to give. Nor have I stolen you. You have always been mine and I've seen after your every need even as you refuse to even try to meet any of mine. At least, if nothing else, you agreed to marry me."

"What?" the word was hardly voiced.

"Last night. There was no show or anything. You just agreed. That will do."

"No-no I didn't!"

"Shall I show you how that took place as well?"

"Erik please-"

She attempted to sit up using her arms and as she did she misjudged their distance and nearly brushed the nose of his mask with her nose leaving them looking into each other's eyes, directly before each other. Both of their breaths became audible, a kind of electricity grew between them. Such taboo made her lean back slowly even as he pushed forward. There lips had only barely touched when she tore the mask away from his face.

Oh horror, horror, horror!

That's the only way I'll ever able to remember this morning! The only way I will ever remember him! Oh God his face! His face! How will I ever stop seeing it? I know I shouldn't have done it and that if was terribly rude of me. Daddy would not have been happy, but it was all I could think of! It was all that I could do in my defense...he was getting so close and I was getting scared. I couldn't just let him…

All morning he was being so terrible, monstrous in the ways he was out to jog my memory of the previous night...Oh God, I had been that close to him last night. That close to his face… But the way he was dragging me around, forcing me to sit on his lap, God I had to do something. He had taken everything from me and was now closing the distance between our lips too. His eyes were so piercing, I was sure I felt them take hold of my soul and for a moment, just one moment, I wanted it. I don't know why. He's such a terrible man, but there's something that catches me in his eyes and his voice. It seems familiar to me somehow, but I just can't place it. Now I don't want to place it. I never want to see him again, even if it means dying in this room, I never want to see him again!

When I pulled off his mask...Oh God what I did...When I pulled it off, for a second he didn't move as if in shock, giving me a full view of what was there. It wasn't until I screamed that he flew off of me to the far corner, shielding his face with his hand. He had screamed too. It was the first time I had ever heard something relating to fear from him. What I had seen...God what I had seen...Holes. So many holes over his face. Almost all of them running so deep into his skin that I could see the bone straight through. The good skin that he had was so little that he looked like a strange metal fence. Some were bleeding, had dried up blood, a few with puss. His nose was almost gone entirely, leaving just a stump where the bone was.

Once he turned back around, I was found on the floor next to the couch. I had fallen there somehow, curled up, crying, not knowing where to turn or what to do. The small sound of a wall sliding across the floor alerted me that he was shutting me into the library with him. I screamed and tried to run back to my room but he caught me roughly by my arm, turned me to his uncovered face, and when I refused to stay there, he jolted me to the floor. I tried to crawl away. All of my senses were on fire, my internal voice screaming for me to run or die, run or die, but he was on top of me, pinning my legs to the ground with his knees, and my arms with his broad hands.

He spoke like a monster, like what I have heard from scary shows when a demon speaks or something, it was all him now, growling at me like a feral animal.

"You wanted to see? Now see! Open your eyes and look at me Goddamn you!"

He took my hair in his hands and tugged my head back. I screamed and opened my eyes for a moment then closed them again.

"Open them or I swear I'll open them myself! Maybe I'll even pop them out you little witch!"

A thumb pressing over my eye lid made me open them to see all the horror awaiting me. It was like a bad dream. How could anything so terrible happen unless it was a bad dream?

"There now my Christine, my dove, my perfect little angel, look at your husband. Now, now, now, don't turn away. Look at me!" he leaned down on me then. I could feel the full weight of his legs over mine, his...area...too close to mine, his chest keeping me down, his arms now clutching both of mine, holding my hands over my head as if in bonds. Oh God I wanted to die right there! How much I missed my Daddy and Mom and just wanted them to take me somehow! God why didn't you let them take me?

I could feel his breath like fire over my teary face. I thought the look of gold shimmers in his eyes might burn my eyes straight out. I screamed again and sobbed. While one of his hands kept mine above me, another one came down and started petting me strangely. Sometimes he would act like he was taking my tears away, only to smear them on other places, my ears, my neck, my forehead, sometimes my hair. God it was wretched! I could see the muscles moving and bobbing with his pulse through places where his skin was open. Blood started to move freely through some of the openings, covering the bone under it red.

"Are you happy now? Has this made you happy? How I yearn to make you happy, you gorgeous little snipe. You don't know a thing about being anything but perfect, do you? No. NO! You've always been showered with love and affection from everyone because your just so damn beautiful, you know? Even I fell into your trap, my love, my darling, doing more for you than any other, and this is the thanks I receive? Well no more. No more! Your perfection will no longer trick me! We're equals now, my dove, my pet, my little Delilah."

Blood began to ooze from his face and started to fall on my clothes, my neck, my face...God everywhere. And he kept smearing it in with my tears. I started to scream and cry louder.

"SILENCE! You should be singing for me! You voice is mine Christine and you will know it is mine. All of you is mine! Your body! Your soul! You will be my wife and you will either love me or never love any one ever again! I will be the last person you'll ever see and I'm never letting you out! EVER!

"I thought that if I could hide this from you, that you could learn to trust me so long as you didn't see, but no! I'll never be good enough for you now! I could buy you the whole damn world, but nothing is good enough for the little princess is it? You wanted looks! How vain! How vain you are Christine! My little angel is not so perfect, now is she?"

He was roaring like a lion. I was sure I felt the foundation shake though my own shaking. He got even closer to me, pressing his uncharred face to my cheek and speaking into my ear, "You scream again, just one more time, and I'll cut your tongue out along with your eyes." He pulled back and all I could see was his eyes. Everything was now too blurry to make out, but his eyes were clear and I was still.

"You want to know why I need you? Do you want to know? You healed me. Oh my love, my lovely, can you imagine? I used to be even more hideous than I am now. Yes, yes, little dove, it was far worse, black, infected, and unsolvable. There was no cure. I was forced into seclusion. Only loved for my terrible services and never anything more. Then one day, little dove, I found a broken song bird turning wild flowers into crowns. Don't shake your head like that, you know it was you.

"This little bird sang for me and as I dared to open her cage and let her fly free, my infections became less and less until all of what was left was the skin and bone. I may be scared forever, but I am healed. This is your work! How nice of you to share your beauty with me! Yes, I think I can go without your love now. I think I can go without your happiness too. I let you live your dreams, I let you fly, but I clip your wings now, my dove. I've been a good owner, have I not? Most little birds are never let out, but I was kind, was I not? But no, you have been a bad little pet and I can no longer trust you. You will stay with me and I will be the last thing you will ever see in this life.

"And you will marry me. Just as you said you would. You will be all mine and no one else's, understand? I will make you mine."

I thought I would faint. The lights around me were growing too bright. His weight on me made it so hard to breathe. I wanted to die and I was giving in to all of it, ready for God to take me away from all of his. Maybe I was unconscious, because the next thing I remembered was being held to his chest and being sat up with him. He was sobbing. I could feel his sobs shake my core, his huge tears wetting my forehead and hair as he rocked me with him.

"Why couldn't you love Erik? What has he done wrong? Erik gave you everything you wanted. He only wanted one thing. Now you'll never love him. You'll hate him forever. Why Christine? Why?"

He was speaking in third person. He had actually gone insane! I could hear his rough breathing and mine clouding together. Was it possible that he was just as broken as I was? His sobbing broke me into pieces. In that moment I felt so guilty. All I had wanted to do was die, but the idea that I could have been killing someone else destroyed me.

Everything was so hazy. No thoughts were running through my head, only actions took place. I can't explain them, because there was no thought to do so. My limp arms took shape and I became aware of how wide his torso was as I wrapped around his back. We were silent for a moment, no breathing, no thinking, nothing. Without warning he shoved me off of him and scampered away like a dog. The wall then opened to my room and I ran away as well.

And now, here I am, under my desk again, the comforter all around me, keeping me here. He is a man. Just a man. A broken man. And I am a woman. I'm not an angel, or a dove, or a healer. I'm just a woman, sometimes just a girl. Maybe he's sometimes just a boy. And I am broken as he is... It must be horrible to have a face like that. It's not like the scar on my knee or elbow that I've been able to cover up with my clothes and make up. Oh God, what if I'm just as horrible as he is? Daddy would have been so ashamed if he knew what I did today! I screamed over his face, thinking only about myself and not about how embarrassed and frightened this man must have been…

Oh God, what if I'm a monster too?

What do you think? Is she a monster? I want to know!