Hello once again. I was itching to write this chapter. We will learn some secrets about Erik. Yes I end with a cliffhanger. Just makes you want to continue reading. If you want the next part, then REVIEW! The more reviews the more chapters. Oh yeah. Sam. I'm gettin' my hands on a copy of Kay's novel. Haha. Tomorrow, I'm requesting it from the Pharr library. I might lend it to you. I want to read it so badly. I'm getting off topic. In this chapter, I give Erik a special talent. Sam, if you know me well, and I know you do, then you could prpbably guess whatthat talent is.

Disclaimer: If anyone of us owned POTO, we wouldn't be here writing phan phics. Do we really need this? I don't know. (Starting to babble)


Chapter 3: Parchment Bound With Secrets

"And do you Erik, take Christine to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, until death do you part?" "I do." Those words buzzed around Erik's mind as he lay in his bed trying to sleep. He had finally fulfilled his lifelong dream, to get married, but he couldn't comprehend that day's final events. He still couldn't believe that he got married. Well, it was the good, couldn't believe, not the regret, can't believe. That whole night, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Christine, paused in sleep. That night, before they went to bed, she begged him to sleep with her, and to leave his coffin. She put on her 'innocent' face. He had to give in. So, he climbed into bed with her, after all, they were married. After making sure Christine was asleep, he leaned over, kissed her cheek, laid his head back down, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

"What? Ayesha?" Erik mumbled as he woke up to something licking the right side of his face. She wouldn't stop, obviously wanting something. He then guessed what she wanted. "Fine. I'll get up and get you some food, you bloody cat." Erik groaned sitting up and rubbing his eyes. As he stood up on the floor, he called to Ayesha, still on their bed, in Pig Latin, "Omecay.(Come)" When he walked out of the room, she followed. He had learned Pig Latin at the fairgrounds when he was smaller. Most gypsies talked it when they didn't want normal people to understand what they were saying. Knowing this, he taught Ayesha a few commands in that tongue. Why? Because Ayesha didn't respond well to English. He took some table scraps from the previous day's supper and put them on a plate. As he set the plate on the floor, he saw Christine's shadow. As he stood up straight, Christine saw how tired he was.

"Let me make breakfast. You go and get dressed, and look halfway decent." She said trying to get him aggravated. "I promise not to burn down the lair." She placed her right hand over her heart. She walked over to Erik and went behind him and tried to push. He didn't budge an inch. "Excusez-moi si vous svp?" she asked him. He knew what she meant, so he walked out of the kitchen. "Merci beaucoup." She yelled hopping he heard her. Erik was surprised by her actions. Did she even know how to cook? When he reached their room, he put on a fresh poet's shirt, pants, and socks. He growled, remembering that he didn't have his mask on. Why didn't Christine surprised that he didn't have it on?

"Idiot. You forgot to put in your mask." He thought out loud, verbally and mentally scolding himself. He reached out for his mask, and gratefully put it on his face. He quickly swriled on his cloak, adding to his already haunting ensemble. Nearing the kitchen, he could smell something. Not something burning, but something delicious. He stood in the doorway for a minute or two, Christine, oblivious to his presence, continued to set out food onto two plates.

"Something smells good." He said startling her.

"I made some croissants. I also have some jam an blackberry wine." She said making herself sound like the food she prepared was pathetic.

"Well, I'm quite hungry. May we eat?" he asked rather properly. For having grown up under this opera house, away from society, he had impeccable manners. She nodded, and he sat down at the table and poured himself some wine. Christine set down a plate in front of him. He waited until she was seated to start eating. Hesitantly, he took a bite of the croissant with jam, hopping that it wouldn't give him food poisoning. It wasn't that bad. He quickly finished the one he had, and took another off another plate set out. "Christine, I think I'm out of a job in the morning." He said hopping that she would take his hint. Luckily she did. She let out a sight and said,

"Fine. I'll make breakfast from now on." She shook his hand on their agreement. She stood up and started clearing the table. Erik quickly joined her. She started washing the dishes humming an all too familiar tune: The Point of No Return.

All that day, Erik stayed at his organ composing, his new opera, 'Love of All Things', leaving the whole day free for Christine. Bored, she made her way over to his library. There, she picked a random book from the bookshelf. It was a romance novel. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion of why Erik would have a romance novel, but then remembered what he had said about Madame Giry and the books. She went back to the bookshelf to see if he had anymore books of that genre, when she fumbled across a red leather-bound book, filled with parchment. Curiosity got the best of her. She took it and sat down on the couch, opening it to the first written page. In scribbled, childish handwriting, it said:

October 29, 1851

Antoinette gave me thisbook, and told me that I should write about what happens on a day to day basis. Well, here I go.

Today is not the happiest day. The day I regret the most, even thought I had no planning in it. This day, the day I was brought into this cruel world 11 years ago.

Christine was in shock. She had never known his birthdate. Why hadn't he told her? She let that thought pass. She continued to skim through it, stopping on some days, and passing others. She stopped on this page:

June 3, 1852

Today is Antoinette's birthdate. I am rather glad for her. Her being 10 years older than I am, I wanted to do something special for her. So when she came to she me tonight, I gave her a rose with a black stain ribbon tied around the stem. A rose, meaning love, and the black satin ribbon, for my darkness, and yet softness. I had thought of that idea last night, sitting playing a violin that I had 'borrowed' from the last chair, second violinist.

"So that is where he came up with the black ribbon and the rose." Christine thought out loud. She continued to read more. Each and every page unlocked more secrets. So much about his life, that she didn't know, was scribbled in those pages. Flipping through more pages, she stopped on this page:

July 23, 1852

I sadly confess that I had I had to kill another man today. I only killed him because I had to, to save someone very dear to me. Here is my story of what happened.

After learning about magic in one of the books Antoinette gave me about 2 weeks ago. I quickly learned how to hide in shadows and disappear easily. All just illusions. Because I wanted to have fun, I decided to follow Antoinette around. I knew that she wouldn't mind me doing so. Tonight as I followed her back to her room, one of the drunken stagehands, Bryan Buquet, stepped out in front of her blocking her path. I tensed up. Because we were in a back passage way back to her room, it was dark and not many people went this way, no one saw what was happening.

He pinned her against the wall. I could hear him mumble something about being quiet and that it would be over quickly. He started to unbutton the back of her dress. She dared not to scream, because he was twice the size of her. I could not control my anger and rage. I could not let that happen to her. I instinctively went for my trusty Punjab Lasso, that I carried every where in one of my pockets in my cloak. I flung it around his neck, and with a few coughs and gags, the thug was dead. In fact, he died quite quickly. I walked over to her. She managed to whisper, "Thank you Erik." I helped her get up and button up her dress, and got her out of the hall. When we made it to her room and closed the door, because my existence is still not known, she hugged me. She asked me how and why I was there. I told her the whole story. She just continued to hug me. I finally really felt loved then.

Christine sniffled. Was Bryan Buquet anyway related to Joseph Buquet? She continued reading the next few days' entries. She must have fallen asleep reading. When she woke up, she looked down to see the book, it wasn't there. Oh no! Did Erik see it? He would get angry with her. Just then, she turned and saw Erik sitting in his armchair looking at the fireplace. But something was different about him. On his lap was the book. He realized she was awake and turned to look at her. "Erik. I'm sorry I didn't…" she was pleading, but was cut off.

"Christine." He said with no real emotion, "It's ok. You would learn about it later. I was looking for it anyway." He said, picking up the book of parchment and skimming the pages. "I missed it. I got it… Oh… you probably already know how I got it."

"October 29th. How come you never told me about your bithdate? Do you hate it that much?" she asked hopping she would get answers.

"I never told you, because, well," he mumbled rather embarrassed, "I forgot about that day. I always tried to forget that horrid date. I forgot it, until you said it just now. Well, since today, is New Years' Eve, I decided to have a small dinner. I did it while you were asleep." Christine was astonished. Just then, Ayesha ran into the small library, obviously wanting attention. "Let us eat." Erik said rather merrily compared to his rather emotionless tone just used before. As he put his arm around Christine's waist and walked out of the room, Erik called back to Ayesha, "Omecay.(Come)" Ayesha obeyed, following at his heels. Christine turned her head towards Erik.

"You know Pig Latin? Owhay omecay ouyay idn'tday elltay emay atthay ouyay ouldcay?(How come you didn't tell me that you could?)" she asked him, also in Pig Latin.

"Ouyay evernay askedway.(You never asked.)" he responded to her with a little smirk on his face. Christine let out a little giggle, obviously understanding his humor. When they reached the kitchen, Christine gasped in awe.


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