My Dearest Readers,

My Deepest, deepest apologies. I have had literally the craziest two weeks of my life. You should expect that I am now revitalized in my writing, have new inspiration, and will be maintaining my 24 hour posting rate again as I had previously upheld. Please allow and accept my greatest and sincerest apologies readers, I have been unkind to your inquisitive natures.

Sincerely,

Your Angel of Music.

She had sliced through her shoulder muscles when the bullet exited her system. It was raw, and just movable again as of now, and her body felt weaker and more swollen within her 2 weeks of bed rest, and 2 weeks of confinement to avoid infections. She was utterly exhausted, by the ordeal and her own pregnancy, The only comfort or excitement to her was feeling Erik's warm hand grip hers and hearing him sing her to sleep at night, the lulling voice of a siren calling her to the danger of sleep. The rest of the house was cold now, and even his heat receded.

It began to seem he came later and later in the evening as the weeks expanded themselves, she would often fall asleep before he got there. She never worried that he had stopped coming when she slept however; a vase in her room always held one more rose in the morning for every night he visited her.

Raoul peeped into the room, pity, guilt, and such torment decorating his handsome features. "Good morning." He sounded raspy and his eyes looked strange; the look of someone lacking sleep. She was surprised to have a visitor in her dungeon other than the maid or the phantom, they world avoided her like disease. "Good morning Raoul" she looked at him, a shamed expression on his face the only response to her stares. She couldn't tell if it were from his own actions or hers that he felt such mortification from. She played with a fiber on her blanket, fiddling about with the strands of wool. "How are you feeling?" she replied simply as to not trigger his questions. "I'm doing just fine, are you alright?" "Yes, Christine was wondering how you were doing." "Much better Raoul." "Oh." He turned to leave the room, but she stopped him. "I forgive you; can-" She stuttered, growing upset. "can you forgive me?" His eyes stared down at the mess he had created. "No question that I've already done so." He looked wounded "But I can't forgive myself." He dragged himself to escape the room quickly, leaving a trail of cowardice and pain behind him. She swallowed her emotions back and sat alone in the room like she always was.

Erik glided through the hallway window of the De Chagny mansion, dusky sunset at his back. He still had to lurk in the shadow just to see her. Raoul was not forgiving to himself, but it was Erik whom he blamed even more, and the feeling was mutual, though one of them held more power and more reason to lie. Policemen guarded the De Chagny place, and hunted in the streets for the demon who had 'shot and raped' this girl, the distant cousin of their beloved Raoul, whom he had taken under his privileged and kindhearted wing. The actual beautiful, innocent creature unknowing of the fate she had bestowed upon her love by saving his life. Yes, Monsieur De Chagny was a brutal liar stuck in his own ideals, and thoughts of what was moral. The wise angel knew no meeting between them would end well, and hid his visits for the leisure of the girl both enemies were now desperate to protect.

He opened the door quietly as he entered. "Erik?" She called from behind her bed curtains, glimpsing his black form sliding across the cherry wood floors, peering from her flat upright position on her bed pillows. He smiled and approached her, creating a similar countenance on the girl. "You came early," she sighed, rising and bounding towards him like a child. He hated how relieved she sounded every time she saw him, like he was going to disappear and never come back.

He placed a rose in one of her vases, this was the 15th in the glass which now brimmed with cherry flowers, the second one on her dressing table, the other bearing only 14. "Are you doing better?" he grabbed for her weak hand gently, pulling afterwards the good one to his lips. She blushed, and he kissed her cheek, making her close her eyes to relish in the touch. "Now I am." He scooped up her small frame in his arms, and carried her back to her place on the bed. His own body crawling besides her, lazily dragging it's hands up and down her waist as they spooned. Erik felt pleasure at the thought of being so close to a person who wanted him, or in this case, persons who needed him, feeling disgusting almost instantly as he thought more about it.

He smoothed his hands along the faintly ridged stomach with his gloved black fingers, feeling sick at the scars which were starting to protrude. He kissed her bump tenderly, an unnoticed tear staining her pale pink dress. She grabbed at his hand and held it in place there above her womb. He didn't even know how many weeks along she was.

Evangeline turned her head to his, and he felt vulnerable to the world with his weaknesses right in front of him, those large eyes perpetrating his thoughts since the moment he saw them. It had been 8 weeks, or 9 hadn't it? It felt like they had been parted for so much longer. Yes, she had spent 5 of those weeks alone, planning on the world to hate her-her the unwed mother. Her, the beautiful, gentle girl he had made an unwed mother. That cream colored skin was glowing. He kissed her neck and she settled her head back down onto the pillow.

"I'm so lonely when you leave," she spoke, unaware what a knife she had stabbed into him. "When your well, I'll take you away from all of this." She gripped the hand against her stomach, and felt once again his warm breath and pecks on her neck, his passion resurging at the gesture. He rolled her over, lifting himself above her small frame, pinning it down and leaning in to kiss her as she lay defenseless beneath him. The kiss bending his logic and thoughts, feeding his emotion and power as she returned it. He gasped as the link broke and he leaned in to kiss her again, feeling her heart race against his chest. They parted and he stared into her green vision.

He was comprising a plan as he thought of the only thing that separated them. The only person to ever separate him from love.

He lifted himself and snagged a red wave as he pulled away, gently holding it between his fingers as he receded from the warmth of her side.

"Please don't leave me,"

The tears welled up in her eyes and he saw how truly lonely she was, how those perfect beaming eyes mourned his leave, those scorched pink cheeks preparing for tears.

Yet he had to leave her now so she could go with him later. He pulled his corpse-like body with a new refreshed vigor at his thoughts of their future. Of his family and how he would obtain them.

Escape had become his euphemism for murder.