second part of the chapter. I finished this a long time ago, just haven't had the chance to publish it. Thanks for the reviews, I am deeply humbled.

r&r

xxx

"So how did you and Erik meet?" The question stops my spoon reaching my mouth.

Shooting a glance at Erik, he dabs his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Music." He lies easily.

No Erik's stupid, vile father. Erik has threatened me into this marriage while I have no clue as to the reason why and treats me like a possession that he can toy around with.

"Oh, really? I didn't think beautiful people exist in the music industry; God makes up for their beautiful voices by making them...well, less appealing to the eye, shall we say." He's looking directly at Erik and I watch as Erik's knuckles curl into a fist. "But you however, Christine," he drags his eyes away from Erik to slide them up and down the ivory dress that dips down in between my breasts. "Have proven my theory wrong, haven't you?"

I smile tightly and want to spit in his face.

Gabrielle is staring at a wall, smiling distantly; probably thinking of her past. I would do that, if I could. But my life has no happy moments. Only the smallest fraction if time I spent with Raoul.

I suddenly feel a weight in my chest.

I'm going to cry.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen. I am not feeling too well at the moment, so I'll get going to bed. Thank you for your hospitality." It is the best and worst excuse I can think of.

Pushing my chair from underneath me, I leave the hall blindly, my eyes filled with tears.

Crying against a wall, I feel someone's arms scoop me up and walk us back to my room. His hands are warm, comforting...familiar.

"Raoul," I whisper between my sobs, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"Heyyy," he croons gently, as he places me onto my bed. "What are you crying for?" He splays out next to me on the bed and pulls me close, his soft hand stroking my hair.

"For being me." My hand rests on his hip and I put my head on his bicep. "You know, when I first got put in the institute, I found a huge stack of books. I must've read all of them a million times, but what I noticed was that in every book I read, there was always a girl who needed help. And suddenly a weird coincidence dishes out a handsome, dashing, witty man who just happened to be a prince." I single and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I am pathetic. "He would help her or rescue her or whatever, and then they'd fall in love and get married and live happily ever after." I lift my eyes up to his to see them focused intently on me. "And after shutting the covers of the books, I would disagree angrily. Because I knew that if I ever got out, I would fight for what I believed was right... And yet here I am, engaged to a genius musician, who can kill without thinking and then touch me in a way that makes me shiver, but my love is somewhere far away from him. It belongs to you. I'm not fighting for what I believe in, I'm just a stupid girl who can't make up her mind. I don't believe in what I'm doing."

"Never apologise for being you, Christine." He plants a kiss on my head, "besides, do you think I'd still be hanging around after all the shit I've had off Destler, if you weren't worth it?"

I snivel and shrug miserably.

"Well, I wouldn't." Kissing my lips softly, he takes the hand resting on his hip and places it on his heart. "So, how are we gonna get away together, then?"

"You're being serious?"

"Of course," he says bring a hand to his shoulder and placing it there like a wound. I miss his hand being on my hair. "I already have a place we can stay, but my brother will be there. Do you remember him?"

A memory swirls of a boy a bit older than me and Raoul skipping stones into the water on the beach. His expression was sour as he looked across the waves but he must have only been about ten. I had remembered thinking what could make a ten year old look so bitter, but lost in my games he question flew from my head.

"Philip?"

"Philippe," he corrects. At my stare, he laughs softly. "You know Julia is French. And besides, he answers to Phil more than anything."

I squint my eyes at him as he seems unable to understand what he has just said. "Isn't your mothers name Julia?"

"Yeah, why?" He's suddenly tense.

"You didn't call her mother."

"Oh, well I meant to." He stands up off the bed and walks to the door. "I'm on night patrol. I'm guarding your door tonight. Is there anything you need before I go?"

A butterfly in my chest flutters from my heart up my throat and out my mouth before I can stop it. "Stay." It is a snowflake on the air; swirling around hitting him in the face as the blood leaves to return in a blush and his eyes pop in honest disbelief.

"No! Not like that," I sit up on the bed and dive my legs under the covers, as I feel the traitorous red begin to travel up my neck and stain my cheeks. "Just sleep here, in this bed with me. Please. You look like you need the sleep. When was the last time you slept Raoul?" I see him begin to shake his head as I quickly add, "please. I want you to stay with me."

He looks at me for a long moment, then sighs. "Fine. But you're taking the blame if Destler barges in on us."

I almost laugh, but manage to stay serious, hiding my smile. "Deal."

And with that, we curl up together and fall into a blissful sleep.