C: Welcome one and all to the tenth chapter of Roses of Life!

E: We are both so very, very excited about this! Erik has worked so hard these past few months and he made it to the double digits. To celebrate, Erik is watching Sweeny Todd and later on The Phantom of the Opera, 1973 version.

C: And I'm at Disneyland! Thank god for ROTC.

E: Still hate it personally…I'll keep my musicals, thank you.

C: Sure…Okay, we just want to say one thing before we send off this chapter and it is in regards to the change in genre's.

E: Erik has decided that, seeing as he has looked back on the events leading up to this chapter, this story more fits under the genre of 'drama'. It's not so much of a romance comedy. Mainly, when I think of a romance comedy, I think J.D. and Elliot from Scrubs and this is far from it, especially in this chapter.

C: So Roses of Life is now under the genre of Romance/Drama. Pray that you know how to find this or you will have a big problem finding it if you rely on genre alone.

E: Not that many people do. So please, Erik implores you to read the chapter.

C: We'll see you at the ending author's notes.

Roses of Life

Hair twirling, skirts fluttering, and voices rebounding across the stage. This was what Sorelli surrounded herself in as she instructed her students. It wasn't rehearsal, seeing as she hadn't given the managers the script yet, but everyone was still hard at work. The ballet girls talked to each other as they perfected their form. Finally sure of herself that she was able to leave her girls by themselves, she traveled backstage and towards her room. Finding it empty, as expected, she sat herself comfortably down on the chair and took hold of the large play and opened the front of it. "You've outdone yourself, Erik," she muttered under her breath as she thumbed through the pages. Finding another note in the back, she removed it from amongst it brethren and scanned her eyes over it.

I realized that you forgot to inform me that I have a detective on both me and Christine's tail. This is what this play is for. I knew that this would only be a matter of time, so I planned ahead. The both of us have talked about it, and we decided that, since Christine is going to star in it, we will lay out a plan to avoid his 'trap'. Don't ask much about it, let's just say that he'll wish that he would have left us alone.

-Erik

A sigh escaping her pale lips, Sorelli folded the paper then threw it into the dying fire, watching it slowly begin to burn. Secretly, she was worried for what he had in store for the opera house. His traps never ended up well in the end. It was only yesterday since she had visited the couple, and she wanted to go again to make sure that the two of them were okay. Fingers playing across the words, her head jerked up as she heard the door to her room open. Seething rage began to boil deep inside of her as she saw Marcel stand in front of the doorway. Smirking, he backed away then walked down the hallway. Curious as to what he was up to, Sorelli followed after him and into Christine's old bedroom, seeing him searching through it. "What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"Most of the clothes in here are missing," he noted. Sorelli's eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

"Since it appears that Miss Daaé will not be returning, I'm cleaning out the space," she replied through gritted teeth. "We need the room." Marcel simply smiled at her as he gave the room a quick survey, then walked past her for the second time. Damn it! she thought as, once again, she tailed him back to her own room. Walking inside, she saw him looking through the belongings on her desk. Unable to her back her gasp, she stormed inside and yanked away the photo he held in his hands. "What are you doing?!" she shouted. Marcel simply glanced up at her then, digging into his coat pocket, took out a piece of paper and giving it to her.

"A warrant. It allows me to search your room," he explained.

"I know what a warrant is! Where did you get it? Only the courts can issue those!"

"They did, Madame Giry. I retrieve it this morning. It seems that the judge agrees with me, that we need to find Miss Daaé…and soon." Moving away from the desk, he walked over to the fireplace and bent down beside it. A strained silence passed before it was broken by Marcel once again. "Where is your daughter, Madame?"

"She's taking a day off today and went out to the city," Sorelli said, her voice reeking off hatred and disgust with the question.

"I see…" he said, reaching into the ashes and embers. Retreating his hand, he held a single scrap of paper, with 'Erik' written onto it. Standing slowly, he took out a handkerchief and placed the brunt scrap in it. "Don't get worked up, Madame, but you are now the prime suspect in Christine's disappearance."

"That is ridiculous," Sorelli stated as she walked over to her desk and replaced the picture she had been holding. Brushing the glace, she stared at the picture of her and her daughter until she was forced back to the present as Marcel stood before her.

"Some of my men and I will come and see you later. If you don't have anything to hide, then there is nothing to fear."

"I don't know what you're talking about. That letter was not from who you think it is."

"The handwriting appears the same," he responded to her. Again, his steel eyes gazed into hers, as if he was trying to force the veil of secrecy she had away to see her darkest secrets. "Are you harboring secrets from me about the Phantom?"

"You have no idea. You're just guessing. That's the only thing that is legible in the first place. Besides, the Phantom never signs his letters 'Erik'." Marcel stared at her again, his eyes capturing hers, refusing to let go.

"Just start counting your days," he muttered before he finally turned heel and left the room.

Waking up from a deep, restful sleep, Christine found herself beside Erik as usual. The only difference this time was they weren't anywhere close to their bedroom, much less their own bed. Turning her head, she saw that Erik still slumbered and gentle lifted herself up away from him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Erik mumbled, his words slurred as sleep try to keep its hold on him. Christine froze, smiling slightly, as he wrapped an arm around her thin waist and force her to lay with him again. Feeling his burning skin against her, she moved closer for the warmth as she realized how cold it was. It was then she noticed; they were both completely naked.

"What'd we do last night?" she mumbled, trying to remember what happened after she went downstairs to Erik after Meg and Sorelli left. Smiling, Erik buried his face into her hair as he gently kissed the top of her head.

"We tried for a baby, love," he stated simply, resting his head atop hers. Silk slid across her skin as she sat up again, Erik still firmly attached to her. "No…" he said as he yanked her back down onto the bed. It was obvious he still wanted to sleep, but had absolutely no intention of doing it without her beside him. Giggling, he held his head in her arms as he closed his eyes. Watching him listen to her heartbeat, she slowly stroking his jet-black hair and let her mind wonder.

"Erik…" she said, suddenly remembering something. "Erik, dear, Meg is coming over later. Remember? Before Sorelli came you promised you'd take us out to the city?" He groaned in reply as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her.

"Please tell me that I promised for later today?" Christine shook her head.

"No, Erik. Besides, it's past noon. Now, come on. Let's get out of bed and get ready before she gets here," Christine urged patiently. Letting out another groan of displeasure, he forced himself to sit up completely and reached over to the other side of the bed they had fallen asleep on. Not bothering with her own clothes, Christine walked out of the room and saw that they were still in the underground chamber that was Erik's spare room containing his organ. Christine frowned, suddenly feeling saddened that Erik still seeked refuge and safety below the soil.

"I might have to punish you later for waking me up, Christine," Erik teased her, walking up behind her as he covered her waist in his arms.

"Oh really?" she teased back. Smiling in return, Erik picked her up easily and began to carry her out of the room and back to their own bedroom. Returning to their shared bedroom, he placed her on the plush bed then he strode up to the large dresser containing her clothes and picked out a simple dress that was a lilac in color with white trim.

"Yes, really," he said as he sat behind her. Leaning back so she rested against his chest, she watched lazily as Erik dressed her. "You're just like my little doll," he whispered into her ears as his hands idly wandered. One traveled upward and slipped through the collar of her dress and the other rested in between her leg, pressing against her. Christine was unable to help but whimper softly as the above hand found her nipple and rolled it between two fingers till it hardened with need.

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," she whispered back, leaning her head back as he began to cover her neck in kisses. Closing her eyes, she could feel her face flush as he continued to torment her. However, he stopped as a knock was heard from the front door. "Meg's here," she stated.

"She can wait," Erik muttered. Laughing softly, she pushed him gently away from her as she quickly ran a brush through her hair then walked up to the aged wood. When she opened it, Meg stood before her smiling and the two girls embraced. As they talked happily, Erik came walked out fully dressed with a hat held low over his face and holding Christine's jacket in his hand. "It's going to get cold," he said as she took it from him.

Without anything left to retrieve, the group started out and, with much thanks to the passageway, managed to arrive a way off from the Opera Populaire and on the bustling streets. Holding onto Christine's hand, he allowed the girls to lead him deeper into the city.

Some time had passed and before long the sun was begin to retreat to the other side of the horizon. The trio, not following the path of the sun, still bustled about excitedly. That is to say, Meg and Christine did as they dragged along Erik who had long ago been driven to the point of exhaustion. It wasn't to stay that he was weak or anything, but traveling with two women filled with unending energy were proving to best him. Within the span of a short four hours, the girls had caused him to walk around the city totaling a distance more than he had moved in his entire life.

"Erik?" Christine asked, turning around to see him about to pass out. He appeared, if it was possible, paler than he already was. Sighing with worry, she motioned towards Meg who helped him into a nearby pub and into a booth in the far back.

"Are you two trying to kill me?" he questioned as he bent over onto the wood, gasping for breath. They both laughed in unison as Christine placed a caring hand on his back.

"Meg and I just want to stop at one more place."

"Okay, just give me a minute and I'll be good," he muttered breathlessly. Christine shook her head.

"You'll stay right here. Just rest up, okay? The place is just down the street. We'll be fine, we're both adults."

"And women," he added, managing to stand up once again on shaky legs.

"Don't be stubborn," Meg said, joining in with Christine. The man heaved a sigh as the two women forced him to sit back down on the chair.

"We'll be in and out in five, ten minutes tops," Christine assured him. Looking up at her, he closed his eyes, thinking, then nodded his approval. Smiling, she kissed his cheek then hugged him. She knew that he still was completely against it, but was still excited that he was sacrificing his comfort for her happiness. It was with that thought that she left the tavern with Meg beside her and stepped into the crisp night air. As they both walked outside, Erik noticed as two men near the front eyed them, smiling. Holding a small, quiet conversation between each other, the two men shook hands then got up and went outside too. Getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Erik lowered his hat and stood.

Tightening her coat around her, she walked with Meg down the few blocks to the store they wanted to stop by and entered into the warm room. "Hello, Mademoiselles," the store clerk said cheerily as the bell above the door chimed. Meg and Christine both smiled and waved as they gazed through the store.

"Oh, Christine, look at this!" Meg said happily as she arrived at a glassed counter. Pointing at a necklace, Christine gasped as well at the stunning beauty. A silver, delicate chain held a small onyx set into a slightly larger diamond. The design was simple, yet breath-taking. This had been the fifth jewelry shop the two girls had gone window shopping in.

Christine tried to look through the rest of the shop, but still kept coming back to the beautiful necklace until, with reluctance, she had to leave as the shop closed. Stepping outside, she noticed that the air turned bitter with cold. Bracing herself, she huddled close to her friend and managed to make their way out onto the street. Suddenly, Meg stopped her as she turned to look behind her.

"I thought I heard something…" she whispered to Christine as she stared nervously into the darkness. Christine shook her head as she pushed her friend onward.

"Probably nothing. Let's get going before we get lost," Christine muttered, slightly irritated at how absurd her friend was acting. As they continued to walk on, again Meg stopped as she turned around completely.

"I swear to God, Christine, I heard something!" she insisted as they both stared at the darkness.

"Don't be silly. Come on, we need to leave," Christine said sternly. Turning around and walking forward, she ran straight into a large man standing before her. "I-I'm so sorry," she stuttered, trying to compose herself.

"It's okay ma'am," the man said, smiling at her. For some reason, Christine found the smile odd. Nervously, she smiled back at him as she held onto Meg's hand. "So…what's wrong with you're friend there?"

"Oh…she's just hearing things," Christine said timidly, backing away from the man slightly. The man was still smiling as he looked past the two girls.

"Don't always be so sure of yourself," he muttered in response. Before Christine could reply, she felt a sharp object press itself against her neck and her mouth was covered by a filthy hand.

"Don't scream, goldy, or your friend here will bleed all over the place," the man behind Christine said to Meg as the taller man in front of them walked up behind Meg. "Now, place nice girlies and we won't hurt your pretty faces," he muttered as he led the two women down a side street and into an abandoned alleyway. Shoving the two girls onto the ground, they both stood in front of the only exit.

"I call the brown-haired one," the shorter one said, staring at Christine. Wrapping her coat around her, she attempted to shield herself from his view. The taller one shook his head in disagreement.

"We can't. Haven't you read the paper? They got a reward on her for her return," the taller one said.

"What if she squeals?"

"We can just rip out her voice?" the taller one offered, looking down now at Meg. "We can blame it on the Phantom. Besides, I prefer the blonde myself."

"Deal then?" The taller one smiled as he reached into his pocket and took out a knife. The metal glinted in the soft moonlight, causing a chill to shoot down Christine's spine. Was she going to die?

"Deal," the other man said as he gazed lustfully at Meg. Crossing each other's path, the larger man grabbed Christine, lifting her up as the other grabbed Meg and shoved her forcefully into the wall.

"No!" Meg screamed, tears falling down her face as the man's filthy hands grabbed towards her. Quick as lightening, the man pressed a knife to her neck and whispered something to her that caused her to visibly tremble.

"I wouldn't worry about her if I were you," the man next to Christine whispered. "Now, just be real still and this'll only hurt a bit." Christine closed her eyes, praying for a miracle to happen, for Erik to show up and save them both. When she opened them again, she nearly thought she was dreaming.

"And if I were you," a familiar deep voice muttered to her assailant, "I wouldn't touch her." The man, clearly caught off guard, whipped around to face his opponent only to scream out in a sudden pain. "Christine, leave!" the voice demanded from her. Terrified, she readily complied as she stepped away and up against the wall, doubled over in fetal position.

Erik watched as the man that was about to hurt Christine fell onto the floor, writhing in pain. Looking up to Meg, he saw that the man that was holding her down now stared at him in shock. "The fuck!? Claude, talk to me!" the man shouted, staring down at the bleeding man. Lifting his head to look at Erik, he retracted the knife from Meg's neck and held it out in front of him. "You bastard! You killed Claude! I fucking kill you!" the man shouted as he backed away from Meg. The girl, her emotions and adrenaline at its limits, passed out onto the ground.

"Oh really?" Erik said, bored, as the man rushed towards him. Side-stepping, he grabbed the man's arm and snapped it in two like a twig. Screaming in a horrible pain, the man fell to the floor, holding his arm. The bloody bone protruded a good two inches from his skin and his arm bent in a sickly manner. Smirking, he stepped over the man as if he was trash and walked up to Meg, still passed out. Easily able to pick her up, he carried her gently as he walked up to Christine. Wrapping his cape around her, he covered her face as she stood. "Just follow me," he whispered as he took her hand in his. Feeling her tremble, he frowned as they walked back to the inn.

Stepping into the warmth, he walked up to the owner, still carrying Meg, and held out a handful of gold coins. "Your best room for the night. Full meals and candles," he ordered as he slammed the coins down onto the counter. Taking the money, the managers silently handed Erik the key and together him and Christine walked up the stairs until they arrived in the two bed room. Laying Meg down on the bed furthest from the door, Erik turned to Christine and wrapped his arms tightly around her, still feeling her tremble.

"I almost lost you…" he whispered, burying his face into her shoulder as he held onto him as well.

"I'm okay Erik. Really, I am," she whispered back.

"No, you're not," Erik said sternly as he backed away and held her head in his large hands. "God, Christine, you were almost killed!" Tears begin to form in her brown eyes as she thought back to what nearly happened to her and realized that he was right. "I should have gone with you. To hell with your 'I'll be fine', Christine!" he shouted. Water falling down her face, she buried her face in his chest as she began crying.

Sighing, Erik held her gently in his arms until she managed to regain her composure again. "I-I'm so sorry…" was all she was able to say. Keeping silent, Erik helped her towards the other bed and guided her so she was resting on her side, gazing at him with glistening eyes.

"Just go to sleep. We'll go home tomorrow morning, alright?" he whispered, brushing back her curls from her face. Gazing longingly at him, she held out her arm and took his hand.

"Don't go," she muttered, terrified.

"I have some unfinished business to attend to, love. Now, just go to sleep and when you wake up I'll be right here next to you," he said, trying to smooth over her worries as he took the blanket from the bed and rested it over her. Kissing her forehead, he grabbed his cape and reattached it to his body before leaving the room.

Making his way out of the building, he took his mask out from a hidden pocket and placed it onto his face before readjusting the hat he wore. After he was sure that his identity was completely concealed, he made his way back to the alley he was in earlier, but found the two men missing. Looking down onto the dirt ground, he saw a large trail of blood leading out. Smiling, he followed the route like a cat stalking a mouse and soon came upon an abandoned apartment. Like a breeze on a summer day he slipped through the door and into the hallway.

Seeing the blood lead into a door, he stood beside it as he heard the two men conversing. "I swear to god, Claude, I thought you were dead! Damn fucking bastard sure hit you hard."

"Like you're one to talk! Your arm is all fucked up James! Jesus Christ, that man is bat-shit crazy," Claude said as the other man moaned in pain. A silence went on until Claude finally spoke again. "I'll be right back. Lemme go and get some more bandages," he said before the sound of chairs being pushed back replaced the voices. Hiding in the shadows of the wall, he watched as Claude opened the door and limped outside and down the opposite hall. Slowing his breathing so he was completely silent, he peered around the corner to see that the other man was looking out the window.

Moving quietly inside, Erik stood behind him, still silent as he watched the man gaze out at the scenery. "Make any sound and I'll kill you where you stand," Erik whispered quietly as the man jumped in surprise. About to turn around, Erik forced him to look ahead as he leaned in close to his ear. "So, your friend thinks I'm crazy, does he?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," the man said shakily. Taking out a large knife from its holder, Erik held the shining metal up to the man's neck and pressed against it slightly.

"Don't lie to me James," he whispered dangerously. "Never lie to the Phantom."

"Claude is right," the man said bravely, sweat dripping down his face. "You're fucking crazy!"

"You nearly killed Christine," he responded. "Anyone who touches my beloved pays in flesh."

"Don't kill me. Please, don't kill me," the man begged pathetically. Erik smiled. Grabbing the man's shoulders, he turned the man around before he took off his mask. Staring at him, eyes filled with fear, the man trembled as he saw Erik's face.

"Now, pay the fine," Erik whispered, smiling. Raising the hand holding the knife, he drove the blade deep into the man's chest. Gasping as blood filled his lungs, the man violently trembled as he fell to the floor, the dagger slipping effortlessly out of the wound. The red liquid pooled below his body, but Erik was far from being finished. Having to hold back for so long around Christine, he now lost control to the man that long ago crossed the line.

Taking a fistful of hair, he pulled the living man's head back and pressed the blade close to his forehead. Making sure it was in the skin, he ran it back until his scalp fell away and the man fell down, dead. Trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline, he wanted to do so much more but forced himself to hold back until Claude arrived. He was who Erik was after, the man that tried to harm Christine.

"James! You there!" Claude called out. Panting slightly, he tossed aside the scalp then lifted the body and shoved it into the closet. Pressing his body into the wall by the door, he watched as it opened and Claude hobbled into the room. "James! Where the hell did you go!?"

"To the fiery depths of hell where he belongs." Walking behind the man, he rammed his fist hard into Claude's ribs, causing him to fall down. Moaning in pain, Erik immediately began to kick the man's stomach until he started coughing up the red liquid that made Erik's heart race. Flipping him over to where he laid on his back, he raised his knife again and smiled manically. "Join him," he said before he drove the knife deep in the man's eyes. Screaming at the top of his lung, Claude shouted out a string of curses as blood spurted out and covered both him and Erik. But still, he didn't stop.

Letting his instincts take complete control over him, Erik bent over the squirming body and took hold of his shirt. "Oh God. Jesus Christ. You're the devil! Satan walking amongst the living!" the man said, writhing in the stronger man's grasp. Not paying the least bit of attention to what Claude was saying, he threw him onto the chair. "Please, sir, please…!" the man begged. It was his last words, though, as Erik took the bloody dagger and drove it into the man's neck.

Blood sprayed the surrounding area as he retracted the knife and began to mercilessly stab the man over and over and over again. By the time all the blood had drained from his body, Erik finally stopped the stabbing. Picking up the lifeless corpse, he laid it on the bed and began to carve his flesh away from his bones, finishing off with decapitating him. Throwing the head to the corner of the room, he dipped him fingers in the pooled blood and wrote a note in the only blank space of wall.

When the task was finished, Erik casually walked out of the room and down the hall into what he supposed was the bathroom. Going up to he sink, he turned on the water and began washing the blood off from his skin. Doing the same with his clothes, he waited until they were completely dry before donning them once again and leaving the house. By that time, midnight had come and gone. Making his way back to the pub, he strode wordlessly into the room and to Christine's bedside.

Seeing she was still fast asleep, he bent down beside her and placed his hand on the side of her face. "Now one can touch you," he whispered as he gently brushed back the hair from her face. "You belong to me now and me only," he muttered. Leaning forward, he softly kissed her lips before withdrawing away and through the door where he spent the rest of the night downstairs.

E: Who liked the chapter!?

C: That was…violent.

E: Well everyone was saying about how Erik seemed too happy and OOC, so he snapped. –smiles-

C: But…why so drastically?

E: Because he's already a murderer. So what if he kills a few more guys? Less people to feed, after all.

C: Erik!

E: Christine, I don't know what you're talking about…

C: -sigh s- So I'm supposing you had lots of fun with this chapter then?

E: Tons. –smirks- Erik hopes that everyone liked it. Please review, as always. Can't wait to see everyone next chapter.

C: Goodbye everyone.