A/N: Ok... disclaimer... I don't own the characters in the previous chapter or the next two...

To the reviewers!

Aasia - Nope, wasn't planning on making Raoul abusive. I've never liked that either. It just seems way out of character. I don't particulary like him either, (seems kind of wimpy to me) but I do think he loved Christine, so that will be him in this story.

Leah - Ahh! I can't believe I didn't catch that. oks, and gonnas and all that. I went back and corrected them all and will update the previous chapters soon. Chap. 7 and 8 should be "ok" free. Thanks for the tip. ;)

And to everyone else... thanks for reviewing. I really can't comment on whether Raoul will die or live seeing as I haven't really decided, so you'll just have to keep reading lol.

Sorry about the lack of updates, but I'm typing this on a differnet computer, so I have to save the chapters to a disk, get them to the other computer and all that. It's kind of a pain. Chap. 9 is about half-way finished, so I'll try to have at least one more chapter up by Mon. or Tues.

I'm actually really happy with these two chapters, (8 especially), so enjoy!

Chapter 7

Christine's POV

I use the clean water he had left to clean off as best I could. The bandages wrapped around my hands made it difficult, but I managed. I slip into the clean gown, and sit on the bed to wait for him to come back in. I knew he would have to secure the back this time as well.

He was mad. I could tell. I could also tell he was trying to control his temper, but I knew as soon as he was sure I was all right, a talk would come and then what? What would happen to Raoul? What would happen to me? There was no way to get word to him now. Erik would never leave me alone now. I feel tears form in my eyes. Hastily I wipe them away, I mustn't cry. I had to be strong for myself, for Raoul. Oh, Raoul. I wish he were here now. He could save me from this desperate situation.

I gasp as I feel his hands on my back. "Oh… I didn't hear you come in." He slowly secures the back of my gown. I want to shake his hands off, but don't. As he does the last tie, I turn around to face him. His dark eyes seem to go straight through me. I focus on his mask. I had gotten so used to seeing it now, but I still wondered what lied beneath. I hesitate, but reach up and finger the white surface. He visibly tenses. He reaches up and lifts my hand off of his face, "Don't Christine. Not when you imagine it as that of the face of your lover." I turn away offended, "I only saw you, Erik." I shake my head and look at him, "And Raoul is not my lover."

His expression darkens, "Oh really? What, do you plan to save your dignity, your innocence, only to give it to him later?" I look down, "I…" He moves closer, not touching me, "You what, Christine. Am I right?" I sit down on the bed, "I don't know…" He kneels in front of me, "It's not a complicated question, Christine. Are you saving yourself for him? Why bother when your beautiful innocence is already tainted by his touch?" He lowers and pears up at my face, "Already tainted by his lips…" I meet his eyes, "What do you want from me?" He whispers, his cool breath washing over my face, "You. Just you."

I swallow, "Why?" My question surprises him, I can tell. He frowns, "I've always wanted you, Christine. I knew, even when you were a little girl that'd you'd always be mine. He leans in and whispers, "I knew that one day we'd be together…" He pauses, "…in every way." Feeling uncomfortable with his closeness I scoot back onto the bed, and hug my knees to myself. He stays kneeling by the side of the bed; his eyes are on me, though. "Please don't do that." I say. His eyebrows crease, "Don't do what?" I look away from him, "Look at me like that." I feel the bed shift and I know he's sitting on it now. "Look at you how?" He says in a low voice.

I look at him, "Like you're looking at me now." He doesn't break his gaze, "Why? Does it make you uncomfortable, Christine?" I nod."Does your precious lover look at you this way? Do you mind when he does?" I grow angry, "I told you, he's not my lover." He says harshly, "Oh, but he is, Christine… You've already given your love to him. What difference is a union of the soul and heart than a union of the body?" I sigh, "I don't want to talk to you anymore." He chuckles, "I hardly think the choice is yours my dear." His voice drips with sarcasm at the words 'my dear'.

I turn my back to him; I would ignore him if I had to. He keeps talking, "This house can get very lonely, Christine. I would know. It's always better when there is someone to talk to." I don't say anything. The bed shifts again and I hear footsteps, 'Come, I'll show you where you can sleep." I say bitterly, "I'm fine here, thank you." The footsteps stop, "No, you need a clean room, a clean bed, and a room in which you can't jump out the window." His words are mocking, but I don't feel like arguing, so I stand up and follow him. It's a long walk. He leads me down hallways and stairs I don't recognize. He keeps me close to him, holding my arm, maybe so I won't fall again, maybe so I won't run.

I hate the silence so I say, "I've never been down here before." He looks at me then but says nothing. So much for that, I try again, "It's cold down here." He stops and glances at me annoyed. Then he takes off his cape and drapes it around me shoulders, "Better?" I sigh, "Yes." I don't say anything else; he obviously wasn't in the mood to talk. Finally he opens a door with a key, one of his locked rooms. It's as lavishly decorated as the other rooms in the house; I can't understand why he had to choose this one. I look around then realize there are no windows, I shudder. I didn't like it in here.

"You're not actually going to lock me up all alone in here are you?" I ask him eyeing the solitary room. He is lighting candles around the room; "I could stay with you, if you prefer." I don't know what to say. Was this some kind of a test? I didn't like the idea of being alone any more than I liked the idea of being with him. Instead of answering I say,

"I'm not tired. What do you expect me to do in here?" He lights the last candle and looks at me; "There are books..."

He walks back towards the door, "I will return later to keep you company. I have some things to take care of." And he is gone. My stomach sinks, Raoul, he was going to hurt Raoul. I sit on the bed in surrender; I had failed him. In every way I had let him down. He was so gentle, so kind; the complete opposite of Erik.

I shiver when I think about what Erik had said. The day comes when I will claim you…He wouldn't. I swallow, oh but he would. And I would be powerless to fight him if that was what he wanted. I don't even want to think about it, but it sticks in my head. I remember a song he had once written. How long should we two wait before we're one. The line echoes in my mind. The words had been so empty then, but now carried so much weight. Oh, Father, how could you leave me with this man? He will be the end of me.

I pick up a book he's left. Perhaps it would keep my mind off of things. The words seem to dance across the page; I can't focus. I force myself to pay attention and struggle through the first chapter. It was useless. I toss the book on the bed glumly. I can't stop thinking about Erik. I march over to the door and throw my weight into it. My eyes prickle with tears, my body was already sore from falling, that had made it worse. I beat the wood with my fists. "Let me out." I plead. I didn't care if he couldn't hear me; I cried and begged anyway.

Exhausted I slump to the floor. It was hopeless. I examine my stinging hands. The bandages are ragged now from the rough wood of the door. Blood seeps through them freely. I grimace at the searing pain. I eye a shard of wood on the floor. Without thinking I pick it up and drag it along the raw flesh of my other palm. I wince, but bite my lip and do it again. Stop this Christine. Don't do this to yourself.

I drop the piece of wood. I drag myself to the bed and lie down. It was so cold in here. I spot his black cape at the end of the bed. The soft velvet lining would be warm. Drawing my last bit of energy I pull it over myself, not caring if I bloodied it. It was his fault anyway, all his fault. My hands throbbed, my head was pounding; I clench my teeth and close my eyes. Let them hurt; it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Raoul would be dead; and I would live the rest of my life here. It was all over now.

I must have fallen asleep. When I open my eyes he is sitting in a chair across from me. I close my eyes again at the soft light of the candles. The light made my head throb, and my eyes sore. "You've done quite a number to yourself. Really, Christine… I'm quite confused, actually." I don't open my eyes, "Confused with what?" I mumble. "I wonder what could have driven you to hurt yourself like that."

I don't move or open my eyes, "As if you don't know…" I hear him moving around and I tense. "You can open your eyes now. The candles are out." I do, and am greeted by darkness. "I didn't hurt your young suitor if that's what made you do this. I had far too many things to do, than to waste my time on him. Perhaps I'll get to him tomorrow, but if it helps you sleep tonight, know that he is safe." He was lying; he had to be.

"I've taken care of your little makeshift rope, and I brought you these." I can't see what he's talking about. He explains, "Your bag of belongings you packed. I'll admit the letters from Raoul were my favorite part. What a little charmer." He's mocking me. "You read my letters?" He answers, "Of course I did." I try to figure out where he is in the room, but it's hard to tell. His voice seems to be everywhere. "Those were private letters." I hear him settle into the chair again, "Not anymore. I would have expected you to realize by now, Christine, that everything of yours is mine. Just like all that I own is yours."

Ignoring my splitting headache I sit up. My hands sting when I move them. "What are you doing here?" He says matter-of-factly, "I told you I would come back and keep you company, did I not? But if you'd rather be alone… In the dark…" He taunts me knowing I don't like the dark. I can hear the bitterness in his voice. I rest my forehead in my hands; it hurt so badly. I hated the dark. If he left I would never be able to find my way to light a candle. I say weakly, "You can stay." He says mildly amused, "I knew you'd warm up to me."

I hear him shift in the chair, "Here, I have something for you to take. It will help your headache." I lift my head out of my hands. I can't see where he is. "I'll help you take them, since I imagine you would have some trouble managing yourself." I remember my hands and look at them even thought I can't see them. I hear him stand up and walk to the bed. He must be right in front of me now. Could he see in this darkness? He must be able to; he moved with such smoothness and confidence.

I feel him sit next to me, his arm goes around my shoulders, "Here, open your mouth." I obey and he drops a small pill onto my tongue. I feel a cool glass on my lips. He tilts it, and a small amount of water fills my mouth. The water feels good; I hadn't had anything to drink since… my birthday. Was that really only yesterday? I swallow, "Thank you."

He remains next to me, "Of course. Let that calm your head, then I'll light a candle and have a better look at your hands."

I nod, figuring he could see me. I hear him set the glass of water on the ground. I wanted more but I didn't say anything. His now empty hand caresses the side of my face. Gently he forces me to rest my head on his shoulder. I don't even try to resist him. "Its going to all be all right, Christine. I promise you it's going to be all right." He whispers. I close my eyes. It was almost comforting. I remembered the bruise on my cheek. He was acting so differently from that. I would never figure him out.