Author's Notice: Yes, the lack of updating, I know. Yes, school is a bitch, I know. Yes, this chapter maybe be confusing, I know. You're weird, I'm weird, so do the lord a favor a just read the chapter. But I am, however, a woman of my word and will NOT abandon this story because I actually love writing it. Anyways, I know I took a risk writing the last chapter, but I want all my readers to know that I did NOT have Christine lose her virginity to Arthur. I hope this chapter will help you all understand my version of Christine Daae a bit better and familiarize yourselves with an emotionally and physcological insecure teenager with desires and feelings instead of the open-mouthed beauty we have all programmed ourselves to expect. Most importantly with this chapter I hope you can catch my metaphors and subtextual meanings that pretain to the concept of the ths story and title. Anyways, writing this chapter was a challenge and I personally liked it. Let me know how you feel, though and drop me a review. :)
Have a nice day.
Chapter Twenty-One: Fresh Air
Christine laid on her bed and closed her eyes in unison with a sigh. Something was wrong, perhaps she was becoming ill or she simply didn't have enough sleep—whatever the case, it's discomfort piled irrevocably on her flat chest.
Thoughts of the past hours bubbled in her exhausted temples in wild rushes, everything was going way too fast that time had left her youth behind in psychological dust. Suddenly, that chilly, spacious, carefree, ingenuous lift that she never even knew existed before had evaporated from her wearied lungs and left her in a suffocated and heatedly smothering atmosphere.
Her mind rewound her projector of memories from the start of the prior night to the end of her rehearsal session fifteen minutes ago.
She saw through closed eyelids again how Arthur's guilty blue eyes turned almost white in the moonlight as the pale illumination danced and transformed again and again to adapt to his heaving, curly body. She remembered the ice-hot sting of his touch puncture every pore of her skin and felt his inanimate lips reapply themselves to her neck and breasts.
She instinctively grasped a breast immediately and felt its texture different from before. It was her same breast from before, but it was not.
Her eyebrows gradually came together inwards as the reviewed night replayed clearly in her head. The robe that never came off, only pulled down to reveal her breasts, would be one she could never wear again. She would never be able to sleep in another bed without thinking of him, touching her, kissing her, controlling her.
She clenched her sheets when she recalled one how the suction of his mouthy folds felt against her helpless collar.
She gasped when her memory-counterpart did before it rose from the bed to tell Arthur how she needed to leave immediately and hurried without another word through his door.
She recounted how during rehearsals her lover did show up and paced around her and her practicing peers, but even when he was not present in her peripheral vision she could still feel him bearing his stare from behind. As she pranced and frolicked on her cues and in rhythm to Carlotta's orders, she watched him from the corner of her eye looking right back at her silently—not with eyes thrilled of chase—but now eyes with expectance and patience for when she'd return to him again.
She felt like a helpless hare ensnared in the fox's mouth.
She felt while she was dancing as though somehow through paranormal abilities her chorus-mates unconsciously knew of her filth. Maybe they were observing her as well, as the girl who bathed in soil, who muddied her body and soul and greased her mind and spirit.
She just felt so dirty.
She tried to close her eyes and attempted to sleep, wake up, or breathe again, even existing seemed at the moment like a task too great to withstand with her kind of energy.
She twisted and turned in her boiling-hot sheets for what seemed like years, kicking off her shoes and yanking off her clothes until all that remained were her underclothes. It seemed as though fire licked at her feet and heat toasted her lungs as she grasped and yanked at her hair in desperation. She needed relief, she needed water, she needed to cool down and escape these fires that consumed her like flesh-starved hounds…
Hell was swallowing her up. She needed to get away.
Christine sprung from her bed with her cheeks flustered with confusion, where was she? Things began to encircle around her like the gowns of her chorus-mates—who were they? Everything unraveled like a mistreated doll—yes, I'd like to be one, with their subliminal smiles and giddy limbs.
She giggled inwardly.
She found her helplessness rather funny, as though she was her own audience outside of her body watching this thin, ugly corpse peel away all layers of sanity in her ridiculous posture—aha! look at that stupid grin! I suppose if I were that ugly I'd laugh too!
The audience giggled at the retarded idiot, wheeling around the dorm like a drunken bee, bussing some funny kind of growl in her chest.
The betwixt Christine stumbled towards the full-length mirror and hastily pushed at it, as though there wasn't much time left, while the other Christine kept laughing all the way.
She scratched her way between the opening when one was finally made and squealed in delight when she trudged into black water. She needed to hurry. Ha! This water tickles!
She allowed the searing pain of magnetism pull her crumpling body through the shallow water and lead her ultimately into a certain lair.
"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" She slurred as she climbed up the slope from the waters.
Erik's confused green eyes shimmered with shock and concern; he paced up to her after he rowed his lake-barrier back down.
Her white underclothes were plastered onto her thin frame and everything beneath became translucent as Erik blushed at the sight of her.
"Christine, what's the matter with you?" He asked as a distraction.
Her reaction to that question actually frightened him: in a flash, her mouth smirked, frowned, and smirked again whilst her eyes twinkled with mischief and malice.
The crazed student's smooth lips stretched slowly and mysteriously into beautiful simper as she waltzed up to her teacher. Erik's muscles instinctively froze in his standing position, wondering in what all nine hells was happening to Christine.
She glided her tiny feet fluidly around him and felt delicious power enrich her poisoned intestines. As she paced around her baffled teacher, his green eyes began to turn blue; his darkwood brown hair hazed into hazelnut tufts, the mask began to disappear…
And his name became "Arthur".
Her smile almost became vicious with hunger when she felt Erik shiver slightly as her fingers grazed across his chest. She circled around him until she was directly behind him.
Erik fought hard to keep still around his student, but every hair on his body, every sense of his systems was completely on a rigid tundra. She was winning, at that moment everything his very existence was balanced on rested at the tips of her burning fingers.
She was swallowing every drop of his weakness, inhaling every scent of his fear, and loving every second of his trauma. He swallowed. Hard.
She took her diabolic hands and entangled them upwards until they grasped the tough part of his neck. He gave a fantastic shiver. She smiled more venomously as she leaned on her tiptoes over to meet her lips with his ear.
"What's wrong, my master?" She purred.
She could feel the thumps of his heart when she sent one hand down to slither across his chest.
"Don't I belong to you?" She flouted in bittersweet adoration.
Erik felt his knees gain weight when he took in the smell of her citrus-wine hair.
"Just let go for one night, there's no one here, my teacher. Just allow me, for one beautiful night, teach you what I know."
Erik couldn't take it anymore, everything was spinning furiously and she was growing way too fast.
He gasped when she sunk her plump lips into his collar.
"You're insane." He hissed in ecstasy.
The response both outraged and satisfied her as she turned him around to face her.
"And you're mine." She growled.
She seized his throat in more deadly kisses whilst he stroke back at her during the enlacement of his arms around her wet form.
She kissed him more passionately and competitively, sinking her fingernails into his upper back. Her power over him was blinding, intense and downright demonic to the point of arrogance. She began to gloat to him, as though she were saying it to Arthur's face:
"I..told you I'd come…back." She snickered between kisses. "I'd…find you."
He moaned in a growl.
"Since when…have you…shifted your desires and accepted…what was there?"
She stop kissing instantly because at that horrible moment he bowed his head and sucked on the flesh at the top of her breast. She didn't win; in fact, she was only expected and waited on this whole time like Arthur had done.
She gasped at the sucking, but not a gasp in pleasure, and the difference was obvious here.
Erik immediately stopped. "Christine?"
She wriggled her way out his arms, breathing heavily and adrenaline rising in pure panic.
"Erik, please ask me not, but take me back to my dorm. I must do something."
After a confused Erik rowed his raffled student back to her dorm, unsuccessfully asking her of her intentions all the way, Christine busted into her dorm and raced towards her window and opened all air in.
The icy winter-breeze froze her lungs in wondrous frost. So beautiful. Power was ambrosia.
She leaned over the railing and threw up.