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I cried myself to sleep in Erik's arms that night.
"What will it be Christine," he had hissed, "the funeral requiem or the wedding ballad?"
After I had made my choice and Raoul had been forced to leave, much to his disapproval, I had been left with Erik. He had held me close, so close it was as if he wished for our bodies to mesh together, fused as one. He had calmed me and brushed away my tears.
"Poor unhappy Christine," he said quietly.
I had seen the unmistakable longing in his eyes, but this time, unlike so many times before, I was unafraid. I needed this, needed him.
"Make love to me," I rasped through my tears.
So many emotions flashed through his eyes then: desire, happiness, surprise, but most of all, and the only one that truly mattered: love.
"Christine," he said hoarsely. "I love you."
"I know," I had told him, "I know Erik."
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He had whisked Christine up to the Louis-Philippe room then, in all her mindless oblivion.
Carefully, he lay her down on her bed. He stood, unspeaking, next to her, staring down at her from above, just as an Angel should.
Then, slowly, he climbed up to lay next to her.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his unmasked face. Her fingers moved up to settle lightly across his ravaged features. It was ironic. A man with a soul unmatchable to any others, but with a face like a living corpse's, oh how God could be so unfair!
Slowly she bent her head so that her lips met his. She heard him draw a sharp breath through his nose.
Erik trembled uncontrollably as Christine's hand snaked through his sparse, wispy hair. He whimpered softly and pulled back.
Christine smiled up at him; his golden eyes reflected passion and, once again, love.
Erik closed his eyes slowly and took a shuddering breath as Christine began to remove his waistcoat.
'How can such an Angel even dare to touch a devil like me whose very flesh has been marred by the fires of hell?'
"Christine…," he breathed. "Oh, Christine, how I love you!"
Christine pressed her lips to his again and ran her hand along his now-bare torso.
Erik shuddered and moaned loudly.
"Erik…"
Erik lifted his hands to rest on Christine's small shoulders and ran his hands over her back, grunting at the feel of her imprisoning clothing. He began to fumble with the ties on the back of her wedding dress.
Once he had removed her dress, he allowed himself a moment to stare down at her, his Angel. Tears came to his eyes as he took in her beautiful form. Her pale, milk white skin contrasted with her smooth, rosy lips. Her small, shapely breasts were tipped with tiny, pink buds. The tears flowed freely down Erik's face and he buried his head in her soft hair.
"Erik?" Christine asked, stroking his scarred back. "What is it? Are you unhappy with me?"
"No, no, never Christine. It is me that you are unhappy with. I do not understand how such a beautiful creature could ever touch a monster such as I. I don't deserve your love."
"Don't say that Erik, it's not true and you know it. You are no monster; beauty is not skin-deep, my love. Shhh…"
Erik's sobs dissipated slowly.
"I'm sorry Christine, please forgive me, I did not wish to upset you."
"You have not upset me Erik," said Christine. "I love you."
Erik smiled through his tears and Christine kissed him once again. Their bodies grew heated as the evening wore on and Erik loved and was loved in ways that he had never even imagined. Being inside Christine was like a dream, and every moment of it was one spent in heaven.
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Yes, that is what would have happened that night had I chose the wedding ballad. Now, as I wallow here, my now lifeless, cold heart burning in the fires of hell, I think back to that moment and wonder, how could I have chosen a lifetime in hell over the love of an Angel?
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