Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock on the mantelpiece strikes twelve again—I suddenly remember Christine Daae might be severely dehydrated after forty-eight hours of confinement. But what is forty-eight hours compared to a lifetime? After all, if I planned to keep her with me forever, she should get used to such forms of imprisonment.

I lay in my mother's bed, thinking. There was no other place for me to sleep, you see. She had taken my coffin and therefore I must lie in hers. What unbearable bliss!

The bed smelt of perfume. The soap she used to cleanse her hair with filled the sheets with the aroma of lavender. Or was it honeysuckle?

I sighed and turned to my side, dismissively eyeing the empty space beside me. I wondered what curious feeling would arouse if I were to wake with her in my arms every morning. I imagine her eyes tearing with horror and slowly drying at the familiarity of my face. With a lingering hand, I pulled the coverlet over that empty, gaping spot and turned away from it. A woman had done so the day I was born, except her hand would yank the blanket just enough to her son's head in disgust.

I remember that. I remember you, Madeleine.

I stood shakily, running a quaking hand through my hair. I must stop these pitiful sessions of recall! Fifty years and you still haven't hand enough loathing, have you? Memory serves me no purpose, just pain, revulsion, regret, and utter hate that clouds my bitter mind. Yes, I have to transpose such memories to the present now—Once I'm here, there's no going back.

The coffin.

I entered my room, taking care to make no sound so she would not know of my coming. Turning the scorpion key slowly, I lifted back the lid of the coffin and found Christine sound asleep, no longer crying or praying for helpShe must have fainted after her mind-piercing scream. I lifted her into my arms as her head fell back heavily to my side and carried her into the living room, setting her on the sofa as she sunk into the soft velvet. I left her there to sleep as I prepared her bath in her room. She had never used this before. The oils and scents that I had purchased for her remained untouched, collecting dust as they lined against the bathtub in colorful arrays of different shapes and sizes. My hand instinctively reached for the Lavender bath oil, and I carefully poured a precise amount in the rising water so that the fragrance rose lightly like mist to one's sense of smell.

I brought her into the lavish bathroom, removing my cloak from her shoulders and set her into the water, allowing the foam and bubbles to engulf her meek little body. She released a small sigh of contentment. Rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt as to not get wet, I positioned her back against me as I gently massaged her neck. She sighed again, this time a bit more audible than the last, and I trailed my fingers up her neck, into her lush head of silky hair. Slowly, I began to message the soap into her hair, taking care as to not get any in her eyes. Her head was still heavy, though I noticed with quite conviction that she was now indeed conscious and aware of her surroundings. Cautiously, I reached into the water and withdrew her arm, gently cleansing it a plush sponge until I reached her swollen hands.

I retrieved some alcohol from the cabinets and dabbed them onto each individual finger. She whimpered as the sting shot through her hands. Yet she did not open her eyes. However she could not bear it when I began to cleanse the other hand and yelped in pain as the alcohol swab touched her fourth finger. As she tried to pull back her hand, I held onto it firmly.

"I'm afraid it'll be just a sting my dear," I said softly, without looking at her. "Calm yourself and it will be over soon."

She allowed me to finish.

I kept her hands upon the sides of the bathtub so they would not meet water. She sat very still as I rinsed the soap from her hair, not saying a word, nor lifted her head towards me. Her eyes were open now, but they looked distantly into the ripples of foam that now fathered around her shoulders.

I stood and held up a towel between us. "If you are too weak, then I shall have to lift you. But seeing that would make a terrible mess, I'd much rather you stand."

She stared into the water with less conviction and I sighed impatiently.

"If you're worried that I might take advantage of your state of undress, you can look for yourself. The mirror is to your right."

She turned towards the large pane of fogged glass that was the wall of the bathroom and quickly looked back into the water. I turned my gaze from her as she stood and barely touched her as she took the towel from my hands and wrapped it around her body.

"Are you finished?"

At the sound of her soft "yes," I turned back to her, leaning so very close to her that I can feel the heat rising from her skin. She swayed forward a little, but I held out my hands in a gesture of patience.

"Wait here."

I left her alone and returned in a few minutes with an ivory dress in my hands. It was new and fitted to her measurements, every detail intricately woven into its hem—After all these days, it'd hung unworn in her closet like an old ornament forgotten to be used. Perhaps now it would be time for her to change out of her old skin and put on a new…

"Put this on."

Her eyes marveled at the elegant gown. As she reached out a hand to feel the silk lining of the sleeves, she gasped at its softness. Looking up at me tentatively, she took the dress into her arms, holding it against her chest. I sighed, pleased at how quickly she'd accepted. Suddenly, she pulled the gown away from her as if coming to some dawning realization shook her head defiantly.

"I'm sorry, I can't accept…" She whispered. "This is too much."

Pulling her towards me by her towel so that she was pressed against me with by sheer animal force, I pressed my lips onto hers, devouring her mouth in mineand tastingthe blood that seeped in the cracks of her lower lip. A moan escaped her throat as she fell into my hands, and I allowed my myself to lose my rationale for a moment of complete self-indulgence before throwing her head ferociously away from me.

Heaving, she fell back, her eyes flying open from the sudden relinquishment of the intensity we shared.

Turning from her I made my way unsteadily to the door.

"Get dressed," I ordered dispassionately. "We have a wedding to attend."