"Are you going to set down your flowers, my dear?" Erik asked softly. "Dear?"

I stared blankly at maman's headstone. She was actually there, below me under the fresh mound of earth.

Dead.

I had known she was dead, seen her fade away, but there was something heart-wrenching and final about knowing I couldn't see her now, that she was gone, truly gone. I would never see her again, never come home to her smiling and knitting and asking about my angel of music. There would be no sweet scent of rosewater, no soft, veined hands to hold. Nothing. She was cold and lifeless, just below me... Just below me...

It was different than with Papa, for I had thought he would come back, as I was a child, though really only a few years from becoming a woman. My mind was naive and pure, so I prayed every night for him to get better. Then, when he had passed, I begged for him to be resurrected. God had done it for Lazarus, hadn't he? And to me, my father was important enough that he ought to be revived. His blue lips would warm and light would flood his eyes. I could see it as I shut my eyes to pray, my hands clasped at my window, a young woman begging for a miracle like a toddler. My life was crumbling before my tear-filled eyes and I could only stare in numb horror as I sunk deeper into despair and solitude. And the solitude was not just in my life, but in my mind. I was alone in my grief, with no one to talk to, no one to confide in, not even someone as broken as Erik, as I had now.

When I saw Papa's headstone for the first time, stood in front of it, I had been still determined that he would come back. My prayers turned into hours of weeping, and after a month I finally accepted that he was gone. I accepted my fate to be alone. Only the faint hope of the Angel of Music remained, but I was doubting his existence, as I was doubting God's.

I became a shell of a being. My only friend was maman, but we were not so close back then. As I trained for the chorus I was utterly alone, for I was a foreigner. My accent gradually became thinner, but still all I had were acquaintances. And no one was mesmerized by my voice; it was only acceptable. There were no mouths agape as there had been when I sang accompanied by my father's violin. There was nothing. I had nothing.

And then my angel finally came, but how was I to know that was a curse and not a blessing? The first few months with the Angel had been so wonderful... and now...

Erik asked me something, but I heard him as if through a fog, and had no idea what he had said.

I turned to him, empty and weak, blinking to clear away my daze.

"We should leave," he informed me. "Set down your flowers, then we can leave."

I turned back to maman's headstone, and burst into quiet sobs, trembling all over with them as if I would fall apart.

"Let's go now," he pleaded, extending his hand to me. "Come on, my love."

I hugged myself and withdrew from him, still staring down at the grave. He tried to take my wrist, but I wrapped it further into my arm, refusing to so much as look at him.

"This is too exciting for you," he told me. "Come now, let's return and forget this... Don't make me drag you, come now... My dear, why won't you let me comfort you as you promised?"

He tried timidly to embrace me, and I shoved him away with surprising vehemence, leaving him bewildered and hurt. I sobbed harder at this, in both fear and regret.

"You're not right," he pleaded. "Give me your hand; I don't want to hurt you."

"She's dead," I whispered painfully, turning to him, still clutching my arms. "She's dead."

"She is dead... Are you sane, my dear?"

I shut my eyes painfully, "Why?"

"Her heart stopped beating. You know this. Now come here, don't hurt yourself-"

"Why?" I demanded brokenly.

"Because this world is merciless, my poor little Christine," he sighed sadly. "So come home now and forget this pain, and we can be happy again. Just come here."

When had we ever been happy?

I set the flowers down onto the soft earth, and after this, Erik seized my wrists as gently as he could. I pulled away and screamed, so he clapped a hand to my mouth.

"My Christine," he pleaded tearfully, "why do you struggle? I'm not hurting you, we just need to go home-"

I nearly broke free of him, but he managed to pin me to his chest. I gasped for breath, as his grip was tight and desperate, almost like he thought I would run away.

"Let me go," I pleaded, freeing my mouth for a moment. "You're hurting me!"

He ignored me, nearly in tears himself.

I fought uselessly, recklessly, not caring if I hurt him. For the first time I didn't care if I hurt him. And it was horrible as he dragged me, ignoring my muffled sobs and cries. At one point, he picked me up and pressed me hard against his chest, and his heart beat frantically, as mine was. Perhaps it was good for me to be lashing out, letting out every pent out emotion.

By some terrible miracle, my arm was freed just long enough due to my struggling that I reached up and slapped him, causing him to drop me in stunned confusion. I tore off toward the grave, numb to my pain, to his, unaware of what I was even doing.

I broke down in front of the grave, fully, falling to my knees before it. Erik must have realized that I would be manageable once exhausted by tears, and that I would not hurt myself or dart away again, because he did not touch me. He let me weep while I sat before the mound of earth covering maman.

When I did glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he was staring at the gravestone in curiosity and confusion. His head was cocked ever so slightly, and he seemed unable to comprehend. Perhaps he believed that I was mad, and I must have seemed such.

I then sang, tremulously, to her, as a farewell. It was an opera piece, an adieu, and fitting for the circumstance. So fitting...

It felt like hours before I ran out of tears, but it was still afternoon, and the sun had only begun to lean towards the horizon. Now weak and practically lifeless myself, Erik scooped me up like an infant and took me to the carriage. I offered no resistance; I wanted to go back. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to take the bitter tonic Erik had given me before and have my senses numbed entirely.

We did not speak on the way home, and I could not remember anything about the journey back, like I had been asleep during it. But I had been painfully awake.

Once the carriage stopped, Erik supported my arm and helped me inside the house, onto the sofa in the drawing room. He told me something I quickly forgot, and perhaps he kissed the top of my head, I couldn't remember. But all I knew was that I was alone.

I curled up on the sofa, staring out the window at the slow trickle of people going down the street.

"Give me a reason to live," I prayed in a whisper. "I can't just live for Erik anymore. Give me a reason... Please, would you answer me now? I've lost everyone... almost everyone. Give me a reason..."

Silence.

I realized Erik was beside me, and he placed a hand to my head, told me something, and helped me up. I followed him mindlessly to my bedroom, and there he instructed me to remain. I fell upon my bed and felt just the act of breathing was exhausting.

As I glanced at the door, I found he had shut it, and likely locked it. I turned to the window instead, driven to it. The sky was blank, a deep blue, and the moon a thin lopsided smile. I looked down upon the garden.

It was finished now. There was a white swing between two bushes, a stone paved path, and a ceramic birdbath near the end. In neat little rows were sprouts of some sort of flowers, and surrounding everything were lilac bushes. There was also a little tree was near the back, with white flowers coating its branches.

I pressed my hand against the glass, then crept over to the door. I suddenly realized how much my body ached, probably from being dropped earlier.

Oh, I had never apologized to Erik for hitting him... What horrible creature was I to hit him? He must have been out of his mind with fear for me. How mad had I been? How panicked? He had grabbed and restrained me as if I was going to harm myself or run off... Would I have?

Poor Erik...

To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I stepped out into the hallway and followed the distant sound of sobs issuing from Erik's bedroom. There was no fear in me as I opened his door and stepped inside, coming over to him with my hands in my lap and my eyes glassy.

He was on the edge of his bed, sobbing, and looked up at me in surprise as I entered. I lied down on his bed and set my head in his lap.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, shutting my eyes.

He was silent, trembling ever so slightly.

"You should go to bed," he told me, his voice ragged from tears.

"I don't want to be alone."

"You shouldn't sleep in here-"

"I don't want to be alone," I pleaded weakly.

"Okay, okay, my dear, then I'll come into your room. Let's go into your room, and you can get your nightgown on, then I'll come in and you won't be alone... Is that good, my love?"

I nodded blankly, rising with all my remaining energy and shuffling off to my room. After dressing, I opened my door to him, and lied down on the bed. He stared at the spot beside me for a moment before finally slipping under the covers beside me. I started to cry again, and nuzzled into his bony chest. We were both silent, Erik perhaps in shock from being in such an intimate situation, myself too fatigued to properly weep.

I felt him pat my head in a poor attempt at comfort.

"It'll be better tomorrow," he told me softly. "We can do whatever you want tomorrow."

I fell asleep.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

How the tables have turned. Who's mad now? Will Christine's prayers be answered?

And round of applause for Erik for doing so well with this. Like, seriously. He was so scared of her harming herself in her panic at the grave, poor guy, taking a (well-deserved) slap to the face and not holding it against her. Probably thought he deserved it, but anyway.