How can I describe to you the increasing excitement I felt as the time grew nearer? It was almost as exciting as it was to finally have her. Not quite… but close.

I spent more and more sleepless nights pondering. Would she accept me or would I have to fight her? Should I be firm or gentle? Would she miss her old life or would she see how much better off she is here? How long until she gives in to me? How will I win her trust? Could she love me?—or at least like me?

I know I've said it before… but it was so much like the way I felt about teaching her lessons. The excitement, the anticipation… only now it was heightened. Oh how I loved her!

The Chagny situation was still touchy, but I believed it was at least past critical.

He was in the Navy—well, the Reserves—and it had originally been my plan to have him shipped off to some place unpleasant. Unfortunately, though it pains me to admit it, even my influence only goes so far.

To be fair, I believe that had I really set my mind to it, I could have made it happen. I have manipulated governments before. Computer hacking, blackmail, manipulation—I have a whole bag of tricks at my disposal.

However it all proved to be unnecessary and, though I do harbor an ounce of resentment towards the boy, I have no plans to go out of my way for his assassination. I can hardly blame him, after all. Who wouldn't love Christine?

But… she is mine. And he would just have to accept that.

But what was I saying? Ah, yes, I remember. For once it seemed that Christine's sense of pride worked in my favor. Though her prospects were becoming fewer and fewer, she continued to politely decline the young man's offer of help.

I'll never understand Christine… on the one hand she wants to maintain a glimmer of independence (at least in her own eyes) and, on the other, she is afraid to be alone.

Well, at least she won't have to worry about that last one ever again. As for the former… well, she'll learn to trust me eventually.

At any rate, she started seeking more desperate options, finding a shabby but inexpensive apartment in a questionable neighborhood and a waitressing job at a restaurant that someone of her caliber should never step foot in, even as a customer.

I let her hold on to those plans. Her depression seemed to be mounting as it was and I thought it would ease her stress level a bit to not worry about finding herself homeless on graduation day. Couldn't have her failing her exams due to unnecessary anxiety. And it wasn't as if I was ever going to actually let her near those places.

Moreover, I was still trying to pacify her suspicions. If a graduate from an elite private academy could not secure even a waitressing job… it goes without saying that she'd begin to question if all was well.

Her depression worried me, though. I watched her close down, become withdrawn. She spent much of her time in her room but I don't think she was sleeping much. In the mornings she barely dragged herself out of bed, going to class with circles under her eyes and trembling hands. She jumped at every noise and kept looking over her shoulder.

Perhaps the worst part of it was that nobody seemed to notice. Once the excitement of her stunning performance died down, she seemed to slip back into the shadows… poor, invisible Christine.

It's an odd thing, really. She glows when she is on stage performing… but she seems to thrive just as much when she is alone in the practice room with me. I've never seen anything like it… someone who is indifferent to fame in such a way. It's usually an either/or sort of deal. Either people shine in the spotlight, or they shy away from it. Christine just… is. She doesn't really care who's watching—she just wants to sing.

I can relate to that.

Actually—I thought, just as the realization hit me—it is not quite that simple. She just likes to sing, true. She doesn't care who is watching… she just doesn't want to be alone.

How could I have been so stupid?

I felt the intense need to hurt myself. I had been so caught up in my plans to make her happy that I had ignored the fact that she was dying before my very eyes. All the life that I had cultivated in her over the years was slipping away and she was once again looking at the world through those dead eyes that I had been so moved by so long ago. She had become that same little child she had once been—the one frightened into indifference.

All this time I had repeatedly told myself to be patient… that she would hold out and wait for me. It was only a few months… late December to early June. I thought she would last that long. I thought I had given her enough strength that she would continue on without me (a prospect which had hurt even to imagine… but I did anyway for her sake). But it would seem she needed me more than either of us realized. I would have been overjoyed had I not been overwhelmed with grief.

I glanced at the calendar again. (I don't know why I'd been doing that as I would never forget the date in my mind… a nervous habit I suppose.) Briefly I considered moving up the date of our meeting, but I quickly repressed that thought. Though the notion sent a bolt of electricity straight to my fingertips, I was determined to see her graduate.

Not to do so would be enormously selfish. Obsessed I may be, but not selfish… at least not completely. I was doing this as much for her as for myself. We were meant to be together.

So an early kidnapping was out, but I still needed to be with her. She needed me—by then I had become wholly convinced of that. And I missed her.

I guess that could only mean it was time to pay my girl a visit.