Erik's POV

Being the owner of Phantasma wasn't always as great as it sounded. My busy schedule for the next few days included not only tending to Gustave's every need, but also Christmas shopping and shoveling snow. There had been so much snow that my workers simply couldn't keep up with all the shoveling. On the night that I did shovel, the temperature had dropped to nearly seventeen degrees. I was completely frozen by the time I made it back home at the early morning hour. Christine, being the wonderful woman that she was, stayed awake and waited for my return. She quickly stripped me of my wet and freezing clothes and helped me into my robe.

"Erik, you're going to catch your death out there…" she warned.

But it was already too late for me, for the next morning, I had come down with another illness. She had warned me to get some sleep after my long night of shoveling, but my music was calling, and so, like the stubborn man that I was, I sat up three hours more, indulging my shivering body into my arias rather than finding the warmth and comfort of sleep. I had fallen asleep hunched over my work, shivering, only to wake up with a horrible back ache and the chills. If only I would listen to Christine when I was supposed to. It was Christmas eve and my angel had so desperately wanted to attend the evening services. My angel was a religious woman, and I'd be damned to stand her up. It was only ten a.m. now, leaving me a few hours to rest and feel better. Christine didn't need to know that I was sick, I could pull it off with being exhausted. If one thing was certain, it was that in order to keep my angel happy in hopes of her staying come spring, I couldn't do a single thing to disappoint her.

To make Christine think that I had been in bed with her the entire night, I tiptoed into my room and quietly crawled in beside her sleeping form. My shivering had slightly ceased once I was covered in blankets, but I still felt uneasy. I hadn't even had my eyes closed for five minutes when she began to stir.

"Good morning, Erik."

But I pretended to be asleep in order to remain in bed. If I woke now, I knew I would be in no condition to take her out later. When she realized I was asleep, I felt her move away from the bed and fumble around with her daily attire. Sleep, that's all I wanted, and yet, my body was doing nothing by plaguing my mind with nightmares once again. In my dream, I had been screaming for my angel to help me, to save me from my master who was whipping my back with the bull whip he always used on me. My flesh burned and blood was splattering from every inch of me. I had called and pleaded for her, but I must have been screaming for her in reality, for I felt myself being shook, only to wake and find her standing before me.

I closed my eyes and plopped back against my pillow, running my hands feverishly through my hair.

"Erik, you scared me to death." Christine gasped.

"I scared you to death?" I snapped, but stopped when I realized I was probably making her upset. It was Christmas eve and I didn't want to upset my angel due to the possible future consequences.

"Forget it." I sat up, lifting my exhausted body and heading to the bathroom. Once there, I tore off my shirt and dipped my face down into the running water in the sink. When I dared to raise my hideous appearance towards the mirror to stare at my reflection, I cringed. Not only was my face a monstrosity, but so was my body. The more I stared at myself, the more I loathed this damaged mass. I pressed my eyes closed and turned away from my reflection.

"Erik, is everything all right?"

I looked back into the mirror to find Christine standing in the doorway. How could she stand there and look at me as if I were a normal man? Seeing my appearance made me sick in the stomach…was it not doing the same to her?

"I'm sorry, Christine." I began. "I just get frustrated when I can't sleep. It gets rather annoying after a while."

I walked past her and back to my bedroom where I took a seat on my mattress. Christine slowly took a seat beside me, placing my shirt into my arms.

"You've had bags beneath your eyes for days, Erik."

I was so tired and weak that my chuckle came out sounding like a dying animal.

"Oh, Christine, I've always had these bags beneath my eyes. I never get a single moment of peaceful sleep.

"Can you not think of happy thoughts before bed?"

"Always, Christine. I think of you, of Gustave, of us…. There's not a single happy thought powerful enough to burn away the memories of so long ago. I wake up screaming to my master's abuse, to the burning flesh and blood caused by his whip. I've seen things no one should ever have to endure in a thousand lifetimes…"

"You're bleeding."

I turned to have a look at my vanity mirror, only to notice that my back was leaking blood from one of my scars. Usually when ever I moved around too much in bed from the nightmares, the sheets would irritate my scars to a point where they would bleed.

"It's all right," I groaned. "Happens all the time."

But Christine wouldn't listen. She tended to my wound as if it were serious, touching my distorted back with her fingers. The moment I felt them grazing over scars, the memory of my master came back into mind. I saw his face, heard and felt the cracking of his whip against my flesh, heard his laughing and my childish cries…

"Don't touch me."

I backed away from her, winding up on the floor as my cries and pleas for my master to stop hurting me echoed throughout my mind. "Stop, please" my seven year old voice pleaded. I placed my hands over my ears in hopes to stop the voices, but they never ceased.

"You like this, tell me you like this!" my master demanded. "Count out the lashings, my sweet corpse."

When the voices finally faded, I was left there on the floor staring up at Christine whose face looked as though she had seen a terrifying ghost. Here it was, Christmas eve and I had frightened her with some mental breakdown. She left me where I was, in the fetal position on the floor like an animal… But that's all I was, I was a sick animal.

Christine's POV

I had never seen something as frightening as Erik's breakdown. One moment he was fine, and the next he was on the floor like a madman. I left him. I was so frightened that I left him….I shouldn't have done it, for I regretted my actions afterwards. He needed me more than anything and yet, I couldn't be the one to comfort him. As I prepared dishes that would be enjoyed at our table on Christmas, I could only stare out into the family room at Erik as he played the saddest song on his piano that I had ever heard. I knew his heart was aching, so much that all I wanted to do was make him feel better. Gustave came walking out into the kitchen, already concerned on why Erik's music was so sad.

"Mama why is-"

But I stopped him.

"Gustave, why don't you help stir this pie filling."

When my son was occupied with stirring with his one good hand, I approached Erik from behind.

"Erik-"

"Do my actions frighten you?" he exhaustedly asked.

"Erik-"

"You left me this morning, Christine."

"I know, I'm-"

"No, I don't mean to sound like a selfish child, but you left me this morning." he sighed and stopped playing, lowering his head. "I don't blame you either. Sometimes I get flashbacks, sometimes I hear voices from the past, voices that cruelly taunt me. It's not one of my better qualities."

"Erik, it was selfish of me to leave you when you needed me most."

I pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping that it was enough to tell him how sorry I was. My angel didn't say a word, only went back to playing his music for the remainder of the day. That evening, I dressed myself and got ready for mass. Having the busy life that I had didn't allow me to do some of the things I always used to do, one of those things being church, but I always made sure that I attended services during the major holidays. I had left Erik to his privacy in order to check on Gustave, only to return to Erik's room a few moments later astonished at what I was witnessing. The door was closed, but I cracked it open just enough to spot him kneeling at the side of his bed, his head lowered in his hands that were clasped together in prayer.

"I know we hardly speak," he began ever so softly. "But please, hear me when I say that I don't care if I ever sleep again. Just please give me this one wish, please let Christine love me. I have tried everything in my power to attempt her love on me, and so far I have failed. It is the only gift I ever wish to receive. I love the girl with all that I am, for she is the only one I have ever loved. Tonight during the church service, when she is praying to you, please, please, lord, please shine some light down upon her perfection and grant me the love I have always wanted. I may not be the greatest man in the world, and forgive me for saying this, but how could you have sent my Christine to hell for the past ten years? To wake each morning in the arms of the drunken devil… Alas, my love for her may have made me into a saint, but we both know you have given me the devil's appearance…"

My poor angel… Praying to the lord above to help him gain my love. I never realized how serious this whole staying come springtime situation was to him. Even after his prayer, he stayed with his head in his clasped hands, silently praying no doubt. I knocked on the door, only to have him quickly rise to his feet.

"Forgive me." he nervously replied. "I was tying my shoe."

Yes, I could have told him that I heard his prayer, but I decided it was better to leave things as they were.

"You look dashing tonight, Erik."

He gazed down upon himself.

"Um…thank you, Christine, that means a lot to me."

"Shall we be off then?" I held out my arm, a gesture that instantly lifted his spirits. I just hoped my kindness wouldn't go straight to his head like on my birthday. Usually when I am too kind to him, the idea of me staying seems to pop right back into his mind, which causes him to become a love stricken puppy again. Tonight, however, he seemed to be a little on the nervous side, and I knew exactly why.

"Erik, if you're not comfortable with attending service with me-"

"Nonsense," he snapped. "I know how much it means to you."

"And I know how much being around crowds of people makes you uncomfortable."

"I'll be quite all right, Christine. As long as I'm with you, that's all that matters."

Erik's POV

I was terribly nervous as we descended towards the church of Christine's choice. Yes, there were plenty in Coney Island to choice from, but the moment we left Phantasma boundaries, my body began to tremble. Town. We were headed straight into town, the very town that made me uneasy with people's awkward glances and cruel mumblings. Up ahead was a church, a church that was glowing with beautiful light and crowds of people, young and old entering through its doors. I took a deep breath, my son glancing up at me and noticing how uneasy I was.

"Mister Y, is something wrong?"

"N…No, Gustave, I'm all right."

Beads of sweat ran down my back as we entered through the front doors, already feeling the heavy stares that were upon me. Why? Why did I agree to accompany Christine to this service? Down the isles of beautiful pews, my angel was headed straight towards the crowds that were lining them like cattle. To be seated in between my family and strangers who would do nothing but stare at me for the next hour would do nothing but make me ill. Before we could go any further, I pulled Christine aside, my heart and lungs aching for the breath of fresh air they so needed.

"Erik, is something wrong?"

My angel's voice was filled with such concern, but I needed to tell her the truth, no matter the consequences.

"Christine, I…I have trouble dealing with crowds."

I was so afraid of disappointing my angel, but she simply smiled and took the back pew. We had it all to ourselves and for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable in a crowded room. When the service started, I copied Christine's every move, whether is was kneeling, sitting or standing. When she knelt her head in prayer, I did the same, not really knowing what to pray for. I felt like the devil amongst worshipers of the lord. I was not a saint, nor was I worthy enough to sit here and pray to God as if I had done nothing wrong. I have sinned, so many times that if I confessed, I'd be sitting beside the priest for nearly a week. I have sinned with running away from home, I have sinned with allowing my master to do the things he has done to me, I have killed and murdered for the pure rush of satisfaction, I have even sinned by making love to Christine…ever.

When the service was over, we rose and headed out the door into the snowy night of Christmas eve. Ice skaters were playing on the frozen pond, the chime of the mere hour of nine rang out from the clock tower, red and green lights lit up Coney Island with the pure spirit of the holiday, one that I never celebrated for myself.

"Now, go to sleep, Gustave." I heard Christine say to Gustave once we arrived home. "Christmas morning will be here soon enough."

"And then we can open presents?" he excitedly asked.

My angel giggled. "Yes, now go to sleep."

I sat there in front of our decorated tree, swiveling my glass of wine around in my grasp. How exhausted I was, but I knew the consequences of falling asleep. Usually on Christmas I always dreamt about my Christmas's spent with the gypsies and the cruel gifts that my master would give me. My screams and the taste of blood would waken and frighten me.

"Erik, is everything all right?"

I looked up from my wine, my angel taking a seat on my lap and staring into the shimmering tree.

"The service made you uneasy tonight." my angel stated.

"No, it was lovely."

I yawned, causing my angel to take my wine from my hand and pull me to my feet.

"Come to bed, Erik, it's late."

"I can't sleep, Christine, not tonight."

"Then when? You haven't in days. I worry about you…"

"I can't…"

"Then please lay beside me, at least."

Laying in the warmth of my bed did seem a lot better than sitting up. I reluctantly agreed, accompanying her to my bedroom where I settled down beside her. Just being able to feel her curls against my distorted cheek was enough to send me straight to heaven.

"Please get some rest, Erik." Christine cooed upon kissing me lightly on the lips.

When my angel was fast asleep, I laid still beside her, my eyes become heavier with every moment that passed. When my body gave into the sleep I so needed, the image of my master immediately appeared, but I could not wake.

There I was, seven years old, face down in the snow, its coldness burning my bare flesh. His bull whip coming down against my back, my blood turning the pure white into crimson red. I screamed, oh, how I screamed! I tried to move away, but my master's monstrous hands grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me over onto my back, the ice from the snow burning me like a ring of fire.

"This is your gift, you little corpse!" my master screamed. "This is your Christmas gift! And you'll remember it for the rest of your days!"

Then, his whip came down over my stomach over and over again, the end of its leathery tip burning and tearing my flesh in half. Blood was seeping from every inch of my belly…

I jolted awake, sweat pouring down my face as I tore open my shirt and touched the same spot on my stomach where I had been gushing blood. Alas, there was no blood, just the scar that had formed from such a beating. One long, disgusting, healed laceration that stretched across my stomach. I sighed in relief, shaking Christine to wake, but she would not budge.

"Christine… Mon Ange, please wake up.."

When she didn't wake to calm me, I ran my fingers through my hair and rose to my feet. I knew I wouldn't be sleeping tonight, and therefore, I left my bedroom to wallow in darkness of the eve of Christmas morning.