Evangeline stammered from her bed, each porcelain leg acting quickly and clumsily. Her stomach roiled and turned acidic within her as her mouth began to grow watery in disgusted preparation. She stumbled finally into her nearby bathroom, releasing into a depository her sickness. She vomited until Christine ran from her room two doors down to discover the source of commotion.

The angel stroked at her sister's hair as she heaved above the toilet. "Oh, Evangeline, let's get you in bed; your ill." Evangeline turned to her friend. Complete sadness in those wide green eyes. "Christine-" she turned back to continue being ill, cutting her own self off. She recovered soon enough, and fully; her eyes calmed and determined looking.

She sat weak on the floor as Christine began to draw a bath. "Thank you." She mumbled. Her determination turning to shame. "Don't worry sweet, come climb into the tub and clean yourself. I'll have a maid outside, so you can just call out if you're feeling sick again." Evangeline nodded.

As much as Raoul wanted her to adopt this girl, her motherly instincts weren't sated by caring for a young adult; a young adult only a year younger than her husband and herself at that. She stroked the girls head before leaving the room. "Have a nice bath my dove," she smiled. She was resenting Raoul for expecting Evangeline to fill this empty void for them. Or maybe she was resenting Evangeline. She turned as she was shutting the door to look at the girl. No, she could never resent such a lovely creature. Not yet.

"My dove," Evangeline whispered as she sunk into the water. Erik floated into her thoughts like a dream and a nightmare. His swirling black hair and gray eyes poison to her peace. All she owned of him was that memory. It was their memory. She traced the lips he had so passionately kissed, recalling the sweet taste of them; recalling the way his hands touched her skin in water like this. How he held her in his arms the whole night after, the way he hugged her hips as they slept. It was a sin she did not regret, but was punished for. He didn't love her.

It was only a couple of weeks ago, and the month between them felt like a lifetime. A month? She felt nausea from a new reason; stress, anxiety, fear. No. It was malnutrition; it had happened before, she had skipped her 'time' before.

She pulled at her hair; no. She hadn't been malnutritioned; she had been well fed, better fed than in her whole life before living here. Even after she was kicked out, she skipped only breakfast and lunch before finding Christine, and she was fed a hefty dinner in compensation.

Oh no. She clasped to her scarred abdomen, imagining the idea of tiny feet kicking back at her. Oh god. What would she do? She was a dishonor on the De Chagny's. They would never let her stay; she and her baby would die in the Parisian streets all because of-no. It wasn't his fault. She would never blame him for this.

She rose from the tub, shaking with cold and fear. She couldn't lie to Christine. She couldn't. She was kind, and good; maybe she would help, and if not she would surely comfort her, and extend her stay with them. "Christine" He voice trembled as she placed a towel on her small figure.

A voice from the other side of the door responded. "No miss, the Vicomtess is just downstairs, would you like me to get her for you?" Evangeline hesitated. Her fate would be completely in the hands of Christine. Little did she know they weren't hands but claws. "Yes please," She whispered and added, "Can you fetch me some clothes first and tell her to meet me in my room?" "Yes ma'am." The maid shuffled off and returned with a white dress. White for purity. Tears of shame flowed into her lovely eyes.

"Innocence lost, unprotected," She sobbed her lullaby. The note rang truer than it ever had.

She cried while clothing herself, making note to splash water into her eyes before she spoke to her Angel. The angel of mercy and goodness she betrayed before she met. Her little feet pattered onto the floor towards her room. She prayed they would not be the last pair of little feet to wander in this house. Evangeline opened and closed the door to her room, sitting herself on the bed. Before Christine could say a word, she spoke. "I am with child."

Coldness filled Christine; she was disgusted by the girl. This was against all of her morals, all that was right. Christine rose and smacked the girl, her long nails like stones against her cheeks. Evangeline fell sideways onto the bed and sobbed into the blanket. "You, you-!" She accused, "Get out now! Get out of my home you-" She stopped scorning the girl for a sin she longed to commit herself. A child. How simple. She would do no wrong to adopt it, would she? To care for the mother, and adopt the child if something bad were to happen, if she were to abandon the child or by some unfortunate reason be killed in child birth? Yes. The world was full of possibilities. Christine pulled on her brown curls, acting out disappointment and caring against every negative notion she held for this girl now. "We aren't to tell Raoul." Was all she said. Evangeline nodded as the tears rolled and plopped onto her lap.

"What happened Evangeline?" She stammered. Was it his? Had he raped her? How would there be any other answer to this if it was his? She began to pity her again, releasing her hatred and assuming the worst, being informed of that it was not. "I-I loved him." Christine spoke bitterly and curtly "Who was it?" she asked out of obligation. She, already knowing and doubting the answer she would receive.

"An angel," she whispered. "An angel of music."

Christine now acknowledged her resentment of the lovely creature she once doted on. She had gotten pregnant on her first try. Christine, who had stayed pure for her husband, abided all of god's rules, who longed for a child so urgently; yes, it was Christine that was not pregnant, and this scrawny whore who was. She had gotten pregnant on her first try. Perhaps this was god's plan for her; Perhaps Christine must perform god's work to punish the sinful. Her head was spinning sickly and twistedly, unlike it had ever thought. It would be a shame if anything happened to Evangeline during child birth.

"Never wear white again." She walked out of the room, pale and plotting unlike the angel of mercy Evangeline saw her as.

Yes, much more like a grim reaper she plotted.