Disclaimer: Still not mine. One scene invented by Susan Kay, I just stole it and changed it for my own purposes because I can.
A/N: I'm feeling compelled to really talk to you guys this chapter for some reason and hence a little shoutout to each of my reviewers of the last chapter! (Amazing I had so many reviews when everyone wanted to complain about that evil cliffhanger…lol)
Riene: Thank you so much for reading this story, your comments mean a lot to me. God, after reading yours im ashamed of this story, lol!! But anyway…look for angry Erik in this chapter! But please, try to contain yourself, lol
L.M.: Thank you for your enthusiasm and your kind words *blushes* hehe
Midasgirl: Thank you very much for your compliments! It means a lot to me coming from you who I consider to be a totally awesome phic writer that I really look up to!
Soldier of Darkness: Thank you so much for your continued support! You've been with me since chapter 1 and I really appreciate it!!
Why I felt like doing that, I don't know, but now that I'm done, on to the story!!
The day of Raoul's funeral came quickly. Christine showed no sign that she would be going as she and Erik ate breakfast in silence that morning. Erik had taken to dining with Christine because she seemed more inclined to eat when he did so with her. He was glad to see her eating again.
After they were finished, Christine stood to clear the dishes. Erik would have done it himself, but Christine seemed to need to keep busy sometimes to take her mind off of other things.
Christine retired to her room and Erik to his study. At around noon, Erik stood and walked to Christine's room to ask if she was hungry.
He knocked quietly on the door. "Christine?"
When he received no answer he frowned. She had seemed to be doing better this last week. Surely she wouldn't go back to ignoring him like this again.
He knocked again persistently. Again there was no response. Slowly he reached for the knob and cracked the door open ever so slightly. "Christine?" he called again.
He pushed the door open completely. She was gone. She had gone to the funeral after all.
Erik closed the door silently and sunk into a chair in dismay. She had left, and he was certain she would not come back. She hadn't even said goodbye…
Erik stood up angrily, Well what were you expecting Erik? Did you expect her to forget that boy and come running back to you? Ha! What a foolish fantasy. She will never love you, you know that!
"I know that!" he shouted, simultaneously seizing a chair and hurling it across the room.
It crashed into the wall with a terrific crack and fell to the floor in pieces. The sound echoed for several seconds before silence reigned again. But Erik wouldn't be drowned by the silence. The table that had sat next to the chair suffered the same fate, as did the footstool and several pieces of china left over from tea earlier that morning. Soon the house was filled with the sounds of impact, wood splitting and glass breaking. Erik spun around wildly, his eyes flashing, searching for something else; he couldn't let the noise stop. He wouldn't be left alone in silence. He grasped an ornate crystal vase which quickly smashed against the opposing wall. And then Erik stopped. He walked slowly to where the remains of the vase lay and knelt down beside them. He picked up the largest piece, fingering the cool glass. That vase had once stood in his mother's house. At the thought of his mother his blind rage returned and his fists clenched, but he forced himself to calm down. As he uncurled his fingers, the now crushed glass fell to the floor. He stared at the blood that ran from his hand with a mild curiosity. He hadn't even felt it cut him.
He stood then, his bleeding hand outstretched slightly in front of him. He surveyed the destruction he had caused and then began to pick up the pieces. Chair and table legs, broken glass, cracked sconces. He paused at one point because the blood from his hand was beginning to soil some of the items. He wiped his hand carelessly on his shirt and continued.
The rest of the day was spent repairing every item he had broken. He did not think of Christine once. He dedicated every ounce of strength he had to his tasks, never letting his mind wander.
By the time he had finished it was very late. The room looked almost as it had before, some damage was more obvious then others, and an end table and the china had been beyond repair. He hadn't fixed the vase. He had put the pieces away in a box, which had been put in a drawer in his room, most likely to never be opened again.
He stirred the fire, which had been slowly dying over the course of the day and added a few logs. He slumped onto the couch, watching the flames dance. He raised his left hand and examined it. It was covered in dry blood and still seemed to be emitting a small trickle of crimson liquid. In the firelight he caught glimpses of glass embedded in his hand. But he hardly cared. He had nothing to occupy himself with anymore and Christine came flooding back into his mind.
He stood up abruptly at the sound of the door being opened. His breath caught painfully in his chest and he waited and listened. He heard the door close quietly. Soft footsteps came closer and closer. And then he saw her standing there in the doorway.
She frowned at the sight of him. "Are you alright Erik?" she asked with concern.
Erik couldn't say anything. She had come back, she hadn't left. She'd come back here on her own, willingly. What did that mean?
Christine walked closer to him. "Erik?" she questioned.
"Christine…I…" he faltered. She was back in his house; she had come back on her own, willingly.
Willingly.
"I thought you had left," he said softly.
"The funeral was today Erik, you knew that," she said.
Before he had a chance to say anything else she gasped, "Erik you're bleeding!"
She hurried to him and grabbed his wrist to allow herself to examine his hand. Erik was too shocked already to find Christine back in the house, that it hardly registered that she was touching him now.
"Erik, what happened? There's glass in your hand," she took his other wrist and led him to the couch where she sat him down. "Wait here a moment."
Erik watched as she left the room. He looked down at his hand that seemed to be causing such a fuss. It was nothing really.
Christine returned shortly with an old shirt of his, a wet cloth, and a pair of tweezers.
Kneeling at Erik's feet, she meticulously began to pick the glass out of his hand. Erik watched as she withdrew the deeply embedded shards from his palm. Her small hand held his wrist to keep his hand steady. She touched him with such warm familiarity, it seemed she didn't even notice she was doing anything unusual. But Erik noticed. He noticed the warmth of her fingertips and every small move she made.
He watched as she moved and realized that this had happened to him before.
She looked up at him then, searching his face, "Am I hurting you?" she asked.
Erik just shook his head, he couldn't seem to speak.
Abandoning the tweezers, she washed his hand with the cloth and revealed the numerous large cuts he had given himself.
She held up the shirt, "I found this in a ball in your room, I trust you don't wear it anymore?" she questioned.
Erik again could only shake his head in response.
"Good," she said and tore it into strips. She carefully bandaged his hand and stood up. "There. Now you really should be more careful Erik."
The shock of her being in the house began to wear off and Erik became curious as to the way Christine was acting. Only this morning she had seemed to be drowning in despair and now she was talking away and acting like nothing was wrong in the world.
She watched as his eyes searched her face for something, she did not know what.
"Is everything alright Erik?" she asked with concern.
"I thought you had left," he said, shifting his gaze so he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Left? Erik, I would never leave you, I'm sorry I didn't say anything before I left, but I wasn't sure if you would want me to go… I'm sorry," she said casting her eyes downward.
He didn't say anything. Christine looked up at him, but he did not look at her. With a small sigh she went to her room.
Erik gazed straight ahead, her words ringing in his ears. I would never leave you. He knew that she did not mean it the way she had said it, but… He sighed and pushed the thought out of his mind. She had come back and that was all that mattered now. He sat back and pondered her abrupt change of mood.
Christine's change of attitude did not last long. Erik should have known better than to think she was over Raoul's death already, it had been less than a week. And not only had her fiancée died, but she had been put through a horrible ordeal. Erik realized that when he really thought about it. He had so easily looked past Christine's kidnapping; it was overshadowed by Raoul's death. But now he realized that she must still harbor such horrible memories of it, even if she was safe now. Erik felt such rousing anger from the thought of Christine being abducted that he never thought about it much, for fear he would go on another rampage and commence to break everything in the house and possibly be a danger to those above the ground.
A/N: Sorry its short and it ends kind of abruptly, but I didn't want to get into the next thing until the next chapter, so see you then! And please review!! I know for a fact that there are people reading this story that aren't reviewing! If you are one of them, it will only take a second and it just brightens my day and helps my writing along! Thanks guys! :)