AN: I know it has been forever since I updated. I hate to leave things unfinished, so I hope those who were following the story will return for these last few chapters.

Thanks to Cora DeBlaere, You Are Love, Samantha, Eriksangelofmusic4ever, Petals Open to the Moon, Jo1994, fireprincess69, Maymayliu, TheBlackSister, gstoeckert, Sigee90, Thestral seer, LizzieLovesErik, serene11, sugarslave, and mangamichelle12 for giving reviews, or adding the fic as a fav or putting it on alert.

Many thanks to EriksTrueAngel for the beta read!

REALIZATION

Silence. Once again I found myself trapped in troubling silence. And darkness. The candle Christine lit a few hours ago had burnt out leaving the room cloaked in the blackness I used to find so comforting. There was no sound in the room, not even from Christine, for I have known for a long time that she is a quiet sleeper. When she stayed with me previously, I often had to check on her while she slept to make certain she still lived. Now, with her small body pressed against mine, I could feel the slight movement of her chest as she breathes in and out. Yet she made no sound. And in this silence, in this darkness, my thoughts were left to torture and plague me.

Thoughts of Christine... and how I had ruined her.

No matter what transpired this night, no matter how our relationship had changed, the facts remained the same. She encompasses everything that is light and beauty. She thrives in the sunlight and should be worshiped for her perfection. I, on the other hand, am the living personification of darkness and horror. I belong in the shadows, out of sight, no more than a mere haunting presence. Christine's youth and innocence are the polar opposites of my aged transgressions. We may be proof that opposites attract, but never has that axiom been proved to lead to fulfillment and joy. Momentary intimacies aside, I know I have brought Christine nothing but pain and anguish.

It could have been a different story, had I left her alone. The story could simply have been of a man who worshiped the voice of an Angel from a far. She would have lived her happy life in the sun while he praised every note she sang from the darkness of his ungrounded world. But no, that wasn't the story, was it? I had to perfect her tone. I had to meddle.

It could have been the story of a prima donna soprano who had been trained by an unknown but talented vocal instructor who wished to remain anonymous. She could have risen to that status without too much interference from her teacher. But no, I had to threaten the opera managers and steal Christine away.

It could have been a story where the skillful soprano returned from the company of her unseen instructor to continue her career on the stage. She would have traveled the world performing for audiences taken in by her beauty and her voice as well as the mysterious tale of her musical education. And she would have eventually married her wealthy, handsome Viscount. She would have become a mother. She would have grown old in her happy life surrounded by a happy family. But no, my jealousy and trickery damaged her mind too severely.

The story had changed into a tale nearly unimaginable. Our story, which should have come to an ending when she left me to marry that foppish Viscount, had magically been given a respite this night. We'd reached the thrilling climax, and now the page had turned, ending that chapter. We would pass through a slight d'animaux until we reached the tragic conclusion. It would have to be a tragic ending, of course. No story with a hideously deformed main character could end any other way. It would be powerful and emotional, but tragic none-the-less.

I'd done this to her. I'd altered the story too much. I'd created this catastrophe. I'd changed her. I'd ruined her. And she would soon come to realize that.

The way I saw it, I had two options. I could leave it alone. Christine would stay with me, loving me despite the darkness and horror that would come. I would continue to weaken until I would eventually die. It wouldn't take long, of that I was certain. A few months possibly, but I would die eventually. Christine would be left alone to face a world that would most certainly shun her for her choice to love me. She would be labeled a harlot, and her morals would be tarnished beyond repair. No one – no man – would ever want her. The idea of another man touching her was repellant to me, but I am not so blind to see that a woman left alone in the world without the support of a man would soon grow penniless and desperate out of hunger and need. No decent man would take her on as a wife. However, there are worldly men who might take her on as a mistress. I had watched young women fight against the suggestion of selling their bodies until they were too hungry to resist. I would not allow that for Christine. Which meant that Christine could not stay with me.

The alternative was that she had to leave me. The last thing I wanted was to be without her, but spending my final days alone was a lesser evil than spending them in her arms and leaving her behind to face the unforgiving masses. She would have to leave me. Have to. She'd only been gone from the world less than a day. If she returned, there might be some hope to save her from disgrace. But she would have to leave right away, and therein was the difficulty. After the vows she had spoken and how eagerly she had given her body to me, I highly doubted she would leave me without an argument. I had to make her see the clear logic behind the reason or she would never agree to the terms. More to the point, I had to provide a substantial reason for her to leave.

Even if it were a lie.

I was very good at lies. They have been at the foundation of my existence from nearly the onset of my wretched life. It would only make sense for my death to be constructed upon a lie as well. For that was what I knew had to be done in order for her to leave me. I would have to die. The purity of her love would bind her to me as long as there was breath in my lungs. That was what she had promised – to love me all the days of my life. She made that promise thinking my life would only last a few more months, yet my life would only last a few more hours. I would at least give myself a few more hours with her. I'm too selfish a creature to end it now and never hear her sweet voice again – never kiss her perfect mouth again.

I was also selfish in how the death would be achieved. I didn't want it to be painful. Nor did I want it to be gruesome! If my plan worked correctly, Christine would be awake and aware for my passing. My death would need to be gentle for her sake. I had scarred her so deeply as it was. There was no need to drive home the point with a horrific death scene. If I slipped into death the way one slips into sleep, she might not be left as traumatized as I feared.

It could be done. It could be done rather simply. I had the ability. The little vial of potion that would invite death was currently sitting on the far bureau. I'd placed it there believing I would have to use it to keep Nadir away. It never crossed my mind that Christine would be witness to its effects. My collection of potions included several that would steal my life away, but I'd never used any before. There were so many other more interesting and worthy methods of murder, in my humble opinion. I preferred theatrics and games to the ease and simplicity of poison. Yet in this instance, it would work perfectly.

The challenge was slipping away from Christine without disturbing her sleep. Testing my ghost-like abilities, I carefully eased away from the warmth of her lithe body. Christine continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the tragic situation that would soon befall her. She made no fuss and didn't stir. Quickly, not wanting to be away from her longer than absolutely necessary, I found the chosen vial and drank down its contents. The liquid tasted of sour berries and burned my dry throat. Had I consumed it unaware of its true nature, I would have assumed it was an old fruited wine that had fermented poorly. I swallowed it down and wiped any moisture from my deformed mouth. Then, I returned to Christine's side as carefully as I had left her. Only when my body was once again positioned next to her did Christine shift to fit more comfortably against me.

Then in the darkness, in the silence, I waited for her to awaken.