Morning came quickly, and sleep was nowhere in sight for me. Holding my head in my hands, I gazed out the window from the corner of my bed. I was not necessarily tired. I must admit that I slept rather peacefully in my new room for the past few months; basically the entire duration that I have been in this house.

I awaited the dinner that I was invited to, for several reason. One being, that even though this room was very large, it was starting to feel so confining and tiny. Any opportunity to leave would be exciting.

But most importantly, I wanted to see Erik. It was strange to feel that way, but it was not for positive reasons.

I wanted very vehemently to learn more about him. Marie always strove clear from discussing anything dealing with him in the past. Except the one warning conversation she shared with me. Plus, every encounter I had with him was impossible to make any conclusion from. His love was merely words, and his actions ran with his emotions, which shift uncontrollably from one spectrum to the complete opposite.

Did he really love me? That was the question that would not depart from my mind. Was his love an enigma? Was it a false, complex lie? I never received any love that was not friendly, or family related; so I had no way of judging this. My experiences in love of this kind were nonexistent. The only knowledge I had was from what I read in novels.

What would it feel like to be in love? How can someone distinguish love from an infatuation, or a deep feeling of lust? Love, when you really think about it, is such a strong word.

The only thing that I truly could comprehend at that moment was that I wanted desperately to someday feel that kind of love. Even if it's just for a small second. If love really is all that generations of people have measured it up to be, then that second should last me a lifetime.

The day passed relatively quickly, and before I knew it, dinner was only an hour away. I wore a plain black dress I found, some weeks earlier, at the back of my dressing cabinet. It was a v-necked, full sleeved, dress that ran down to a little above my knees. I tried to do something productive with my hair, but I decided to leave it down, since it was more comfortable. I'm not entirely sure if I felt excitement, or anxiousness, while I waited for the door to be unlocked, but my nerves were most definitely jumping about, with anticipation of some kind.

I stared at the door, awaiting the moment he would come to get me. In that short time, I thought over the situation of the mask. I could not understand why he still wore it. What could he possible be hiding? Was he deformed? Or was he still trying to keep his identity unrevealed? Worse, maybe it was some weird kick he got out of wearing it. From all of the strange qualities he has shown me, it was not an insane insinuation.

As I muddled through my thoughts, the bedroom door began to open. I stood up sharply, from my bed. Quickly, I tried to smooth out the fabric of the dress, and tugged it down to it's proper length. I looked up to the door expectantly, but halted my movements when Marie walked into the room.

In her hands she held my dinner tray. My eyes moved from her face to the food. She smiled fully when our eyes met.

"My, do you look pretty!" She said kindly. Walking to my side, next to the bed, she placed the tray on the covers. "I didn't even know there was a black dress in that old cabinet."

I opened my mouth in confusion, which she took as something different then the thought that was cruising through my mind.

"Don't worry. I'm allowed to speak to you again," She placed a hand on my upper arm. "I don't know why I wasn't allow to in the first place, but now we can go back to our normal chit-chats."

She sat on the bed, and immediately began to fill me in on every small happening around the house, that I had missed in the past few days. "Sit down. Eat." She gestured to the food.

Kneeling beside the bed, I quietly ate my dinner. Although it's terribly rude, and I hate to mislead Marie, I could not help but pretend to listen to her. I was severely lost in my head, and amongst many questions. It seemed that Marie did not know that Erik wanted to dine with me, but he would have let her know. Did he change his mind? Did I do unknowingly do something to anger him?

"Are you alright, dear?" I looked up to Marie, my face blank.

"Oh, I'm fine. Please tell me the rest of the news," I smiled. She dismissed her concern as meaningless and once again began to quickly jabber on.

When I finished my meal, Marie picked up the tray and walked to the door. "I have to bring this back to kitchen."

I watched her steadily. She was acting very peculiar, I thought. She did not even wish me a good night, like she usually does. I propped my chin in my palm, wondering why the dinner with Erik was cancelled.

My thoughts were interrupted when the sound of footsteps hastily approached the room. The door opened, and Marie once again peered her face through the opening.

"Are you ready?" She asked, the smile that was once on her face was now gone, but her voice still retain her usual kindness, although it was now dimly evident.

"W-what?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"I am to take you to Erik. Please hurry up, I talked to you for too long, and now we're late." I could see the meekness appear in her eyes, which only seem to come about when Erik was involved. I stepped quickly to her side, and closed the door.

She practically ran down the hallway, with me clumsily following her, in the terribly lighted area. Marie found her way with no problem, however, and almost immediately, we reached the destination. Stopping in front of one particular door, Marie gave me a small look that was given so quickly that I could not determine what it meant, then walked away.

I looked at the handle, for a moment. A feeling of fear was creeping up my stomach towards my chest. Glancing at the spot where Marie once stood, I could clearly picture her face and body, and the anxiety that was expressed. I clenched, and unclenched my hands.

I can do this, I told myself strongly. I can do this.

So, with those failing thoughts of encouragement, I quickly opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind me.

To my surprise, I stepped into a music room. It was not as fancily decorated as the other places around the house, but it was certainly a wonderful sight to behold. The large piano in the corner, the violin on a table, the sheets of music littered around the area, was all strangely comforting. There were only two large armchairs, which were arranged near a blazing fireplace. One empty chair faced me, while the other was turned away.

Hesitantly, I walked towards the empty chair. The room was very silent, except for the sound of the fire whipping softly about, and the random crack, or pop, from the deteriorating wood. Although I tried to look confident, I could not help but wring my hands together, as I looked about the room. Finally I stood before the chair.

"You are late," Erik's voice stated.

I whipped around, in a jumping movement, scared out of my wits. He sat in the opposite chair, with his legs crossed, and his arms perfectly resting on its sides. The gloved fingers on his hands, curled around the ends of the chairs arms.

He was not dressed as fully, as the other previous times that I saw him. At this moment, he still wore his black pants, and black top, but the top button on his shirt was undone, revealing very pale skin. I stared at that skin for a second, before averting my gaze so he would not notice. It felt strange to see that small patch of uncovered flesh, for it made me realize that he was a man, that he was actually real. Of course, I knew this already, but every time I saw him he was always a figure in black, making him appear fictionalized, an untouchable; now I could see that he was not something conjured in a dream, he was human like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," I replied, unsure of what to say. I looked deeply into his eyes, just as he did to my own person. He shifted his gaze down slightly, and very slowly nodded his head. Glancing behind me, I realized that he was gesturing for me to sit.

I grasped the end of my dress and lightly pulled down as I sat, to make sure it did not ride up. Crossing my ankles, and placing my hands on top of one another in my lap, I set my eyes upon his feet; for I did not dare to met his extreme stare.

"Would you like something to drink?" He suddenly asked. No emotion was evitable in his voice.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure."

I watched his legs uncross and move to stand. His feet disappeared from my vision as he walked to the other side of the room. Listening to his moving footsteps I continued to gaze at the bottom of the chair, where his legs once were.

The stiffening fear was still grasping my stomach, making my body a cautious state of high alert. I was paralyzed in my mind momentarily, still trying to gather some kind of understanding.

"You are a woman now," He said loudly, obviously showing that he knew that I was lost in my thoughts. His actions worked, and my concentration was restored. I snapped my head up to the sound of his voice. His body was turned, partially away from me, with his head twisted in a sly manner towards my direction.

"Are you not?" By the way he asked that question, I could imagine his eyebrows were possibly lifting in egotism.

I felt my face go rigid. The anger was starting to build within me, for his entire aura was simply wrecking self-satisfaction. That's how well he spoke; he could easily express his true thoughts without actually saying the words.

He turned away from me completely, and faced his back to me. I think we both knew that his point was driven across. I have been acting like a child, for me it was completely agreeable under the circumstances, for him I was an adolescent.

So, even though I knew in my heart that I was just a seventeen-year-old girl, I could not help but call out, "Yes, yes I am."

"Have you ever tasted wine before?" He asked, with a continuous tone that further pushes my anger. I was glaring at his back, but then halted when he spoke that question. It was then that I noticed the small table, with some liquor upon it; well, it really only had two bottles of wine, and one clear glass filled with a golden liquid.

"Yes," I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Just a glass, once."

"Would you like some?" He suddenly turned and held his arms out, which were holding a bottle of chilled white wine.

I looked up to his blank face. What was he getting at? Hesitation could not be denied on my part, but I answered, with a feeling of slight suspicion. "Okay."

His back immediately faced me again.

I only had been in the room a few seconds, and somehow he was already the dominating role in the conversation. It was so evident that he was completely confident and sure of himself. At least, that was what I was first lead to believe. But to get some equivalency back I changed the subject.

"I thought we were going to have dinner," I said quietly.

Pouring the drinks he answered quickly. "I do not dine with other people."

Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I set myself back to normalcy when he began to walk back to the chairs, with both my drink, and a small glass with golden liquid in his hands. That was a strange statement to make, I thought.

"Then why did you ask me?" I asked, raising one eyebrow: not in a crass way, but an instinctive movement.

"My apologizes for misleading you, but this is what I truly meant," He replied handing my glass to me. He did not sound sorry, but I held my designation back when I removed the glass from his hands. I gently grasped the neck of the drink instead of the upper half, where Erik's long fingers spread around.

"I felt compelled to explain some things to you, since your confusion is unending," Erik said factually. He moved to sit and once again crossed his legs; only increasing his manly persona. In his right hand he grasped his drink, which he kept steady on his elevated thigh, and his left hand replaced itself on the arm of the chair.

I took a quick sip of the drink to stop myself from pursing my lips in agitation. Looking back to his unblinking eyes I swallowed the cool liquid.

Even though I tried, I could not hold his gaze for too long. I was just not strong enough. Whenever he looked at me, it was as if he could look directly into my mind and soul. There was no way that I could ever read his thoughts that early in our relationship; he was still a mysterious person that I felt I would never come to know.

"What would you like to talk to me about?" I said meekly. My god, I was so stupid and weak. I wish I could have had some backbone at that time, instead of the fearful little girl I was. Maybe if I was more dependent on my feelings, then certain conflicts could have been deflected; of course, I had no way of knowing that.

"You are the confused one, my dear," He said. He called me dear, I thought. Not only that, he called me his dear. "What would you like to know?"

I did not like his tone. He was so cynical, in every word that he spoke. Could you blame me for reacting? I snapped my head up to his and said icily, "Why don't you start with last night?"

Our gazes locked, and even though he did not break it by blinking, I could see his eyes held something that differed from the egotism it held before. Was he taken aback by my own anger? Well, I thought with satisfaction, that's a taste of your own medicine.

He breathed very deeply and moved his eyes down to his glass. "Last night…." He began, yet paused. Erik's voice was unchanging from before, but I sensed that something was brewing inside of him. That he was once again going to shift his mood; just by the way that he looked at the unmoving liquid in his glass, with such determination, as if it had to be closely examined, I knew that he was searching for the right things to say.

"I went to your room to check on you," His voice dropped very low in volume. I do not know if it was the emotion it held, or the dimness in which he spoke them, but I found myself leaning forward in my chair, ever so slightly.

"You were not there," Erik said. Was it sadness, I heard in his voice, or was it simply that he was so lost in the memory of the night before.

"I felt a terrible fear and…" His words died down to silence. I was gripped to every word that he said. He was literally moving me with his voice, but his body was completely still. That was how domineering his presence was, it was impossible to overcome it.

"I reacted badly," he stated lamely. Finally he looked up, but not to me. Instead he looked at the blazing fireplace.

That was it, I thought. He made me so frightened, and all he could say was that he reacted badly? He was opening up to me…somewhat, and I had to take advantage of that so I could not help but press on with more questions.

"Will the bathroom lock ever be replaced?" I asked.

"No," He said immediately. The reflective mode was broken, as he looked back at me. His eyes glazed by the orange glow casted out by the flames of the fire. "What happened in the bathroom will never take place again. Do you understand?"

I nodded quickly, although inside I was screaming that it was not my fault. He sighed in a manly, agitated way and once again turned to watch the fire.

While his concentration was not on me, I took in his appearance. The pale skin that was revealed, the black attire, the way the moving shadows shifted around his body from the light issued by the fire, but most especially his mask. He held a drink in his hand, did that mean that he was going to remove his mask to actually consume it? Or was the drink only for show?

In the back of my mind a small voice was screaming to not ask the next question that was buzzing within me, but he did say that he would answer anything I was confused about.

"Your mask," I said casually. "Why don't you take it off."

He did not react to what I said, so I kept talking…like the fool that I was.

"I could not help but notice that you have a drink with you. Since we are married, you can show me your face. You can actually drink it if you want. I don't mind." I looked closely at him, but he still did not move in the least.

"I really don't mind…" Suddenly Erik uncrossed his legs. He stood sharply, and with a stiff arm, threw the glass into the fireplace. His shoulders were raised to meet almost meet his ears, and his blank face looked directly at me.

He moved so swiftly and quick that I dropped my own glass in shock. The wine glass shattered on the ground, making an echo coarse throughout the room.

"Remove my mask?" He said quietly.

My wide eyes watched as he very slowly, in tiny, deliberate steps moved closer to me. I watched him come closer, all the while hearing a dull scream in my heart. The fear was once again holding and crippling me.

My head fragmentally rose to continue our fearful gaze.

He finally stood before me, and I swear that not a breath was taken, and not a thought was entailed. I was frozen in a perusing fright.

Darkness encased his face, for the light was behind him. I shifted my eyes about that bleak nothingness, trying to find his eyes.

My attempts were halted when Erik's hand lifted slowly. I looked to his approaching hand. His palm was open. And his fingers were softly spread, like he was reaching, or even begging. The gloved hand slide along my cheek, until his fingers slightly passed my hairline.

With the tips of his fingers betwixt the strands of my hair, his cupped palm laying on my cheek, and his entire thumb aligning under my jaw, Erik pulled my face up.

At first I thought he just wanted me to look back to his face, but he continued to gently push. My legs straightened beneath me, and I slowly stood.

Our bodies grazed one another, for we were so close, and our faces were tilted to look closely at each other. Mine was arched up, while his was bent down.

"Christine," Erik whispered. "I wish…"

He continued to pull me closer.