Seems to me that no one reads this fanfic anymore because of what I said in the last chapter... hmm... I'll just keep going and keep delaying Don Juan until later! -Evil laughter- XOXO, take care, everyone!


Memories

Christine looked at herself in the mirror. There was no turning back now, she was in the dressing room minutes before the opera. She looked at her face, blank of expression memories returning.

The night was freezing and Christine held her sweater closer to her. She couldn't believe that she was sneaking out this late at night. Not even Meg knew she was there, and she always knew everything. She was aspiring to be the school newspaper gossip columnist.

She wrapped the scarf tighter just as the wind picked up. If anyone caught her breaking and entering, she'd die from embarrassment.

What if the kids at school found out she was trying to break into their High School Auditorium? They'd probably think of her as a nerd who wanted to get more education after dark.

But she was going to get more education, just not from the same teachers as they did.

She reached the auditorium doors and looked around carefully, making sure she wasn't followed. When she saw no one, she opened the doors and walked in into the warm auditorium.

The lights of the stage were on, almost all light were on, except the grand chandelier above the seats.

She smiled, knowing that he was there somehow, like he promised. She took off her scarf and sweater and placed it on the same seat she banged her shin on the first night.

And just like the first night, she went to the stage where on a chair laid a red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem.

She smiled as she took in her hand and sniffed it. She loved the aroma and it enveloped her senses. She looked around the audience, no Angel yet. No one was there.

She sat in the chair, sighing and let her hair loose from the bun she had it in. The ends of her hair curled around her face making her blow it out of her face.

She started singing to the rose, one of the songs she learned when she was in choir as a child.

She didn't even finish singing when a voice from above rang out. "Beautiful as always, my fair Christine."

She smiled with giddy joy. "Angel, I'm here as you requested."

"Yes, Christine," he told her, his voice reverberating throughout the walls. "We shall start where we left off yesterday."

Christine nodded and stood, clearing her throat. No sooner did she start singing, did he cut her off. "No, Christine. You're too flat, sing with more feeling, more vibrantly."

Christine nodded and sang once more, hoping that one day she would sing in front of an audience.

She stopped when he started clapping. "Beautiful, bravo, my angel."

Christine smiled and tried to hide her blushing cheeks. "Oh, stop," she giggled. "You're making me blush."

He laughed at that. "You deserve this praise and so much more. I promise you that you will get it."

Christine smiled. "Your praise is the only one that matters to me, Angel."

"And your happiness is all that matters to me," he said to her. "I will make all your wishes come true."

If only things were that simple again, Christine told herself. If only promises like that were simple to make come true. She wanted so desperately to turn back time to make everything simple as it once was. To be back in her church with her father playing the violin and herself in the small choir.

She let out a long breath to calm her nerves.

"Christine?"

Christine looked at the locked door.

"Christine," Meg said again. "Please come out."

Christine shook her head. "Not yet."

"Christine, curtain's in ten."

That was all Meg said before Christine got the courage to look at herself in the mirror again.

She turned and looked at the small vanity in shock.

There in front of the mirror, lay a red rose on the small table.

Christine picked it up and pricked her finger. "Son of a b-" She didn't finish because she placed the finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding.

Christine started at the rose. It was red, like all the others and there was a black ribbon tied around the stem. The only thing that set it apart from all the others was the fact that it had all the thorns.

She knew he had left the thorns on purpose. To warn her.

She left the rose on the same table when she left, thinking it a bad omen.


Just kidding, Don Juan will be Chapter Twenty-Two (that's the next chapter by the way) Tootles!