It was a windy evening, and Christine stared out of the window, wanting more than anything to be outside, running and free and…away from him.

She was huddled on the complete opposite side of the car, her hands and feet drawn in close in the prevention of him putting his fingers on her. It was hard to compare this ride to the last one, in which she had willingly touched him and had even held his hand. Now they were stifled in an uncomfortable, everlasting silence, and she was scrunched up in the corner. He was glancing at her every couple minutes, but she was not going to say anything.

The trees were bent over at the top, and not many people were out. She could hear the wind wailing, the sound sneaking in through the tiny, invisible cracks in the doors. For a moment, she closed her eyes and envisioned jumping out of the car and having the wind pick her up and carry her away. But the fantasy ended, of course, and she opened her eyes, catching Erik's reflection in the window for a moment. He was watching her again. She quickly looked back to the streets and shops.

After that terrible day and his crazy proclamations that were followed quickly by his anger, he had sent her away, claiming that she was obviously exhausted and needed proper rest. She had taken his advice and had slept for hours upon end, only emerging when she was hungry. Erik had cleaned himself up and looked a little saner in his usual suit coat and slacks, but all the fancy clothes in the world couldn't erase what she saw and remembered. His face…It somehow managed to twist itself into her dreams, always cropping up and making her wake in terror.

Sometimes she sat and deliberately thought about it. She had come to the decision that if Erik hadn't reacted the way he had, then perhaps his face wouldn't have been so horrific. If he had calmly turned and let her look, perhaps she would have been able to sit and really examine it. But…no. He had forced her to cut his skin with her own nails, and he had then smeared his own blood on her face. If Erik was capable of such a disgusting thing in a fit of rage, then…She shuddered. He was not safe. Mr. Khan was right all along. Erik was not someone who could be helped.

And she wasn't supposed to have touched it, she knew…But Erik had invaded her privacy before many times, had broken unspoken rules about the conduct between people, and it wasn't fair that he got to do those things without repercussion and she had received the fright of her life by doing one thing to him. She was afraid to do anything else to make him upset. What if he reacted the same way?

She hadn't meant to hurt him or betray his trust—she had done it all in the hopes of them becoming closer. For the first time, she glanced at him. She had a distinct feeling that Erik would find that hard to believe, no matter how true it was.

She had resisted asking him about what he intended for her future. Christine was extremely worried that once all the repairs were finished up, she would simply be stuck underneath the Opera House with him forever. He hadn't said anything since his declaration that he would die if she left him, but she couldn't stay with him forever. She couldn't.

Erik was still focusing on her voice. Their daily music lessons were a time in which they could resume old roles, but it still wasn't the same. There was always that nagging thought in the back of her mind about what had happened between them. She would look at him and see the curved edges of his mask, unable to help herself as she replayed those awful events in her mind.

After countless minutes in silence, Erik spoke.

"You are not wearing your ring."

Christine started a little in surprise and looked down at her bare left hand. "Um…yeah. I'm not. I guess I forgot to put it back on after I showered this morning." That was a lie. She had seen it on the counter and had deliberately left it there. It looked almost threatening. That ring was a promise to Erik—a promise of herself to his music, and she couldn't keep that promise right now.

Erik paused. Then he said, "It is for you to wear. Always."

"I'll put it on when I get back," she said, and she looked back out the window.

They drove in silence for another long while. It was finally dark, and the streets were empty because of the weather. It felt like they were the only two people in the world. At that moment, Christine couldn't bear the thought.

As they were passing some buildings, she began to recognize a few of them, and she realized that the little bakery was coming up soon. Christine risked a glance at his reflection. Maybe if she asked for something else from the shop…she could go in and borrow their phone and see if Raoul was working late. Then he could come and—

No. She stopped herself before she got too far. She couldn't let Raoul get mixed up in this all. He had already had enough heartache and grief because of her. The last thing he needed was to come and be her shining knight again. This was her mess and her problem, and Raoul would probably only end up getting hurt once more if she dragged him into it. And she wasn't so sure that it would just be emotional pain this time.

Erik recognized the street as well.

"Would you like something else from that place?" he asked. "You seemed to enjoy it last time."

Christine looked over the shop for a moment, and then she shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Very well," he said after a moment of silence.

She pulled her coat in closer around her. It was very fine, the nicest one she had ever worn, and the insides were lined with the softest thing she had ever felt. All of the clothes he had given to her were extremely nice and appeared to be very expensive. There used to be a thrill in putting on the clothes; now, she only felt suffocated. It was as if he was trying to bury her in presents and gestures and promises so that she would forget what had happened.

"You're quiet," Erik then commented. "Are you feeling ill? Are you tired? Do you wish to return?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Though I'd like to go back now, if that's okay." The car ride had been stifling and awkward and uncomfortable. At least at Erik's house she could pretend to be tired and hide in his room.

When they were near to the Opera House, Erik said, "Do you hate me very much?"

The question made her turn around and look at him. His eyes were earnest. He wasn't kidding around.

"No, I don't," she said, and she surprised herself when she realized that she was being honest.

Erik looked surprised himself. "That is good," he said quietly, more to himself than to her, it appeared.

The car stopped, and he opened the door for her and led her out of the strong winds and into a small back door of the Opera House. Within a few minutes, they were back in the dark tunnels.

They continued on their way, and Christine forced herself to listen to the rhythm in his steps, the soft tap tap tap tap of his shoes and the rustling of their clothing. Something cold and wet suddenly landed on her cheek, and she gave a little strangled yelp of girlish fright, wiping at it hurriedly, thinking it was some slimy, gross thing that had dripped on her. Erik paused at the sound.

"It has begun to rain," he said. "There is no cause for fear."

She nodded, though she still rubbed at her face. She had begun to hate it down here, with its dark, endless tunnels and its eternal lack of sunlight. Christine looked up at him—or rather, where she thought he was.

"How long have you lived down here?" she asked.

"Many years," he said. "I have several other apartments throughout the city, but I do enjoy this one in particular. It is close to the music."

"Yeah," she murmured. "I can see why you'd like it."

They returned to his house in silence, and Erik risked a small brush of her shoulder with his fingers as she walked into the front room. She tried not to feel indignant, but it was hard to stand his touch when she thought of the last time they had touched—his fingers curled around her wrists, her hands on his awful face…

Erik beckoned her over to the piano, and she obeyed. He pulled out some sheet music and passed it over to her, and she looked at it.

"Are we going to start something new?" she asked, unable to recognize the music at all.

He nodded once. "The managers have canceled the rest of Figaro. Repairs are being finished up, and rehearsals for another production will be starting shortly. You have secured another small role."

Christine felt her stomach clench a little. Another role? She was nervous already. What if something happened again? That would definitely mean that she wasn't meant for the stage.

"What's the opera?" she asked, flipping through the music.

"It is Elektra, an atonal nightmare. I cringe merely thinking about Ms. Guidicelli in such a role. Still, it is popular enough, and it will draw crowds. You will be one of the serving girls."

She was quiet for a long moment, and she got the impression that Erik knew exactly what she was thinking. She tried hesitantly,

"Does this mean—?"

"Yes," he interrupted, sounding tired. "Yes, my dear. You will return aboveground for the rehearsals and performances."

Christine tried to suppress her excitement, and she nodded slowly. "Okay. That's fine."

Erik's lower lip thinned, like he was smiling facetiously. "You will return to me for further practice. You will make no attempt to escape Erik or leave this city for any reason. Do I make myself clear?"

She blanched and nodded again hurriedly. The last thing she needed was for him to become suspicious and then trap her down here forever. She wasn't sure what she was going to do once she was returned aboveground, but the important thing was that she was going to be there and not here.

They started work on the piece. There wasn't much for Christine to sing, but what there was was difficult for her. She hadn't practiced music such as this, as Erik had mostly taught her Baroque and Romantic pieces. Strauss's work was an early modern piece, and she found it hard to match her voice with the quick changes in the music and tempo. The German was also difficult for her to wrap her tongue around, and when Erik finally closed the piano, she was feeling tired and frustrated with herself.

"It will come," Erik said. "You simply need practice."

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess…I'm going to bed now, if that's okay."

Once she was tucked into the large bed, she stared out into the blackness for a while, trying to think. Was there a way out of this at all? She couldn't see one. She couldn't just leave—Erik had forbidden her to, and she knew that he would come after her if she disobeyed. Christine rubbed at her eyes. Did he really love her so much? So much that he was willing to trap her here forever? She rolled onto her back. That wasn't love at all. How could he feel that way and be all right with making her miserable?

No…she hadn't always been miserable. It had happened when she had taken off his mask. She squeezed her eyes shut as the thought of his face came back to her. That memory would probably haunt her forever. With a deep breath, she let herself think of his face. It was horrible and disgusting…but she continued to think of it. She didn't want his face to be the reason she had to leave. No, it was his reaction, his violence. This was not a safe place for her if he was willing to scream at her and frighten her out of her wits. Erik had killed people and had been a drug addict—and he had made her promise to return to him!

She took in a shuddering breath and clutched one of the pillows to her, letting a few tears creep out of her eyes. It was all made so much worse by the fact that she had begun to deeply care about him. She had held his hand. She had wanted him to trust her enough to show his face to her, but they had both destroyed any chance of that. She knew, and she couldn't pretend that she didn't.

The day finally arrived. Christine had woken early and had laid in bed for a while, grinning in the darkness. She was leaving today. Erik was leading her out of this hole and letting her go back to life above ground. Rehearsals started in only a few days, and she was feeling giddy and somewhat ecstatic. She couldn't wait to get back to the little apartment and the sunshine and the noise and the people.

When she couldn't lie in bed any longer, she rolled out of the bed and readied herself, a smile still on her lips. She chose the plainest outfit she could find, pulled her hair back, and emerged, but not before taking a moment to calm herself down. Erik would grow suspicious if he sensed that she was very eager to leave. He would probably say that she just wanted to escape him, and then he'd hold her down there forever.

As she was eating her breakfast, he entered the dining room and said, "Are you prepared?"

"Hmm?" she said, trying her best to sound nonchalant. "What? Oh. Yeah. I guess."

There was a pause, and then he chuckled darkly. "We must working on your acting sometime, my dear…" With those words, he left, leaving her to feel embarrassed, a little angered, and sheepish.

The only thing she took other than the clothes on her back was the small gold ring. She knew that Erik would be looking for it, and she made it a point to smooth her hair with her left hand so the jewelry would be very visible. His eyes softened just a little when he caught a glimpse of it. As long as she was wearing that ring, it seemed that Erik would trust her—if only a little.

The walk through the tunnels was long and silent. Christine tried not to breathe too heavily, but excitement was building up in her. The first thing she would do would be to run to the nearest park and lie down in the grass and allow the sun to bathe her. She would listen to all the sounds and appreciate everything—even the barking dogs and screaming children. Everything would sound like music after the pressing silence of Erik's house.

She could sense that they were nearer to their destination, for Erik seemed to lag and walk slower. His reluctance to release her might have been a little touching—except for the fact that he was releasing her from being his underground prisoner. Christine nearly shivered. It was so insane to think that. It sounded like something out of a cheap paperback novel.

However, as much as he tried, Erik could not stop the end of the tunnels from coming. Christine could see faint light from the door that led out to the back alleyway. It looked like it was bright outside.

"I'll see you at lessons," she said, trying to make this goodbye as least awkward as possible and heading toward the door. Erik somehow gently and abruptly took three of her fingers in his hand, forcing her to pause. She groaned inwardly.

"You will return to me for lessons," he said. She nodded and then said, "Yes. I told you I would."

He continued. "I would like for you to…visit me…sometimes, as you promised. Your company is a pleasant thing. You will come to my house and stay with me occasionally."

"Okay."

Something small and cool was slipped into her hand, and she felt it and realized that it was a key.

"That unlocks this door as well as my home. You will come to me when I send for you." He pulled her hand over and pushed it against the wall, and she was feeling nervous again. His long fingers held her hand and guided it over the wall to a small groove. Inside, she felt something. It was a flashlight. He clicked it on for her and held it out, and she took it carefully.

"I have drawn arrows on the walls of the tunnels, pointing you in the right direction. They are blue. You will follow the blue arrows and no other."

Christine shined the flashlight down the hall, and the beam was strong and piercing. True enough, she could see an array of colorful arrows drawn on the wall, pointing this way and that. A blue arrow pointed to the right tunnel.

"If you happen to become lost, you will not move. At all. You will sit right where you are, and you will sing—anything and everything. I will find you. Do you understand me?"

"Of course I do," she said quickly.

"It is very important that you do not go anywhere else in those tunnels. You will sit there and sing, and you will not move. I will always find you."

Something in his tone when he said the last sentence made her think that he wasn't just talking about her getting lost in the tunnels.

"Okay, Erik," she said. She replaced the flashlight and waited impatiently for him to open the door

There was a long moment of silence, and she could feel him watching her. She didn't know what to do, but she knew what not to do, and she resisted a look of eagerness and expectation that tried to work its way onto her face.

At long last, she heard a few clicks, and the door swung open, flooding the small room with piercing sunlight. Christine flung a hand out to shade her eyes from it. It had been a long time since she had seen such bright sunlight, and her eyes were already hurting a little.

It felt like she was passing into another dimension. She took a few steps forward and then glanced back to Erik. He was standing in a sliver of shadow, silently watching her.

"I'll come back," she said.

He paused, and then he said softly, "Yes. You will. Christine always keeps her promises."

With stumbling steps, she hurried out and into the world.