Ash: Thank you.
The Phantom Parisienne: Thank you. Oh… and happy birthday.
Lavendar: Well, I'm happy you liked that chapter more than I did, and thank you so much.
maelinya: *Where to start… hmm…* Don't worry – I talk to the characters through my computer screen… I hadn't thought about who Christine's conscience is, it really never occurred to me – thanks for pointing that out, though I don't know who it could be… actually I have one idea, but I don't see how I could fit it into this story. Yes, he's in a state between dreaming and unconscious – you got that head on – and that's why he calls Christine "naïve" in front of her but this chapter will have Erik's POV on their conversation. Hmm… As for the mask… I'll take that into account, and as for the long review… I enjoyed reading it. Thank you.
Chapter 4 – The definition of "Hell" changes for every given person…
"…so when I'm lying in my bed,
Thoughts running through my head,
And I feel that love is dead,
I'm loving angels instead…"
Erik
The definition of "Hell" changes for every given person, does it not? It is, in spite of everything, a punishment, is it not? So, for it to be different for everyone then we all must go through it alone… Alone… what a word that is… probably one of the only single words that are given to frequent contradiction in themselves… I have gone through my whole life surrounded by sneering men and screaming women – and yet I have been so very much alone… And now I must go through death and Hell alone, too…
Hell is undoubtedly not a place where fire and brimstone rule, and the temperature is high enough to boil diamond in a split-second – because, why would it matter to spirits just how hot it was…? No, it must be punishment on the soul; on the essence of the person… it must be essentially insufferable, therefore, it must have a root in fear – it must be something that the person fears losing the most…
So what is my Hell…? What would make my eternal punishment truly unbearable…? A world with no music, no beauty, no love… no Christine? I'm sure, the latter; because Christine is my music, my beauty and my love… she is my world. But if it is my sentence to never hear her voice again, to never see her smile, never hold her elegant hand… My mind has already begun to fracture at the thought of what death means for me and I pray (I actually pray) to God himself to forgive me so that I can just see Christine once more… even if it were to watch her from afar one last time, I just want to picture her happy before my mind's eye loses her countenance forever and I succumb to the inner-torment that is everlasting…
Silence…
So this is it, then…? I could have guessed that my greatest fear would be silence… even in life, when no-one else could hear anything; I still heard music playing inside me – I have never heard so silent a moment as now; not even when I was subjected to that hideous cage was everything this quiet. It is truly painful! I will spend infinity making up for my crimes in whatever way, if you'll just give me my music back – just release me from this silence, God! Take me out of Hell and give me melody, if nothing else…
Silence…
So you couldn't find it in your "heart" to give me even the slightest of happiness… so you have condemned me, have you?! Perhaps Lucifer will see things in a different light… Perhaps I can have my music in return for something… You have to admit that Satan has been far kinder to me than you – he has allowed me darkness…
Silence…
What am I raving on about…? You gave me Christine… even if only as a pupil… she was mine for a brief period… I suppose I should be thankful for that alone – and I am… but…
Why, of all things, could I not tell her how I felt…? Why had I left it too late…? She could have loved me… or learned to love me… Nonsense… who could even tolerate you?! "Oh, Christine… poor, naïve, Christine… I did it all for you… everything… was for you…" If only you could have seen that…
I did not expect God to ever answer me – for, what good is Hell if it does not last…? – but He did answer me. A voice born from the silence filled my head with holy music even as it was merely speaking. It was my angel's voice – Christine's voice… "I know, Erik, I know… so, do this one last thing for me… fight it for me and I will never expect anything more. You would not deny me one final wish, would you?"
Ah, I see… so I have been given added suffering now for cursing the name of God… He has sent a mock of my Christine to fool me… but what good is it if I cannot see her…? Why must He torment me so…? Christine could never say that, and yet… I cannot be sure… so I must answer as though it were Christine I was replying to… And if it is a trap set for me then I'm afraid I don't care that I'm sprinting right into it, just to hear my beloved's voice… "No… you are right, Christine… I cannot refuse you your final wish from me. But, though I would fight for you I do not believe that this is a battle I can win…"
"But, but… I… lo… love… you…"
Oh… picking a torture for someone is easy… but when they take the thing that one holds most dear… It is despicable! For God to throw me a blow that strong… And yet, He does not realise that by making the mock say that; He has given the game away in one fell swoop! That is not my dear Christine saying that to me…
Despair and anguish only resided in my heart… I did not have the strength for anger… I just got more depressed… "I had fantasised that my Christine would say that… but, alas… it is never to be. I only wanted the best for her… hmm…"
Silence…
Back to this again, I suppose…?
Silence…
A/N: Well, that's Chapter 4 done so I should have the next chapter soon. It's in Erik's POV, I think. Anyway… thanks again to my lovely reviewers, you all succeed in helping me tie my muse to the chair while I work!
This is why I like writing stories against songs – because I know when it'll end and I know how to get there (my muse is more co-operative that way).