A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates! I have been like really sick with pneumonia for a whole week! Yuck! Anyway, before you read this chapter, I just wanted to clear a few things up. This is not a romantic, fuzzy story where some chick meets Erik and changes him into a cute 'lil, all affectionate guy. Nope, in this story I am trying to display the darker side of him, a more realistic (at least in my mind) depiction of what would really happen if Erik ever met another woman. I'm trying my best to make Alessandra a real character with depth and personality, and not some wilting Mary-Sue -ish character, to really challenge the personality of Erik.
Sorry for my rambling! LoL Medication can do that to you! Anywho, here's the next chapter! Hooray!
The next morning, or was it afternoon? Night? Time did not pertain any real significance when you lived hundreds of feet below the surface. I sat there, my legs clad in crinkled stockings, swinging through the air, my feet unable to reach the ground. I absentmindedly ran my hand over the smooth satin of the sheets that covered my lap, my thoughts obviously elsewhere.
Yes, Erik had thrown me in some menacing sort of torture room, driving me to the brink of insanity and nearly killing me in the process. He had abused my trust, my naïve, wholesome trust that I had instilled in Him. He was cold, harsh, calculating, temperamental, even pitiless at times. But then there was the other Erik. The Erik that sung me to sleep, that Erik that saved me countless times, risking so much for me, a woman He barely knew. He was warm, compassionate, mysterious, passionate, and even sensual at times. It was all true, but barely made sense, even to me.
My brain was still clouded from yesterday's events, and I did not feel like running in circles with it, trying to meticulously dissect the Phantom of the Opera. Speaking of which, was now curiously absent from my bedside.
I arose from the bed, my bare feet chilling against the frozen floor. Grabbing the cloak that was still draped over the edge of the bed, I wrapped in haphazardly around my shoulders, protecting my delicate flesh from the cold of the lair. I tip-toed around the room, hoping to find some covering for my numbing feet. I eyed the bureau, hoping that there were at least some ballet slippers confined in the wardrobe, I skittered towards it. As I moved past the vanity, I stopped dead in my tracks. Something very familiar grabbed my interest. A withered rose laid innocently atop the smooth mahogany wood of the table surface, a silky black ribbon wrapped around it.
Was this where Christine had stayed? Was this her room?
It so resembled the perfect rose I had found in Mme. Daáe's former dressing room. I picked it up, fiddling with the crunchy petals, running my fingers along the length of the ribbon. It was so beautiful, so flawless despite its age. I brought the flower to my nose, inhaling deeply its intoxicating fragrance, still pungent and aromatic.
Suddenly, a thought struck me. If this was in fact Christine's room, surely there must be more to see. I admit, I was rather curious to understand better this odd, little chorus girl. My narrow mind not able to comprehend why she had left Erik so willingly to escape back up there, to the harsh realities of the public world.
Down here, in this world of night, reality was the last thing on my mind. If I had been logical, If I had any sense in my tiny, little brain, I would have stopped my search. I would have forgotten about this room, and venture outside to discuss rational things with a very irrational man. As it was, being here in this world of illusion, I couldn't understand what consequences would come of this.
Hot blood stirred in my body, my fingers twitching in anticipation of what I might find. Deciding that the dresser was as good a place as any to start, I gently pulled open the top shelf, careful to avoid any creaks along the way. Papers flooded the drawer, sketches that were very similar to the ones I saw at Erik's desk back in the main room. Elaborately detailed drawings of some woman, some unidentified muse with wild curls, staring bewildered at me through smudged charcoal. Christine. The pictures were so life-like, so genuine, it was as if she came alive on the paper. I realized how deep Erik's obsession ran, how he had memorized every contour of her face, captured every expression so faultlessly. Obsessive. That was another trait which I needed to add to my list of the many characteristics of Erik.
Pushing these aside, I found something that piqued my interest. A small box, gently placed in the corner, covered by a pile of staff sheets. Looking around the room once more to ensure that I was alone, I removed the box from its resting place, carefully prying it open. A ring, a striking aquamarine diamond sparkled up at me, twinkling reflections in my eyes. I carefully took it out from the box, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger and bringing it closer to my face so that I could get a better look. It was impeccable, a perfect, unblemished stone. Cut masterly so that it contained a certain fire, an icy, sapphire fire that radiated throughout the gem. Did Erik mean to give this to Christine? Did He offer marriage? Did she accept? Did she refuse? Every time I thought I had Erik figured out, something like this had to come up, sending my assumptions spiraling off track.
Still in awe of the exquisiteness of the ring, I decided it best to replace it before Erik found me sneaking through His personal belongings.
Too late.
Things seemed to happen in slow motion. One second I was carefully setting the ring back in the drawer, the next it was being violently snatched out of my grasp. I gasped, for I thought I had merely dropped it, but the harsh breathing of something behind me suggested otherwise. Suddenly, a booming voice, louder and more frightening than any thunderous lightning bolt, crashed through the silence:
"What have I told you of your infernal curiosities?"
I simply bowed my head in shame, knowing full well that this immature flaw of mine had, at last, caught up with me. I knew that nothing I said, nothing I did could ever erase that tone in Erik's voice, nor the look upon His face. As I turned around to face the consequences, like any adult would do, I was surprised to find Erik rather placid. Seeing this should have put me at ease, on the contrary, it had the opposite effect. It disturbed me. I had just betrayed His trust once again, assuming that He still had some reserved for me. His eyes were glazed over, His mouth hung in an awkward open position.
I approached Him, quietly coming to stand beside Him. For awhile, He stood, simply staring, the room casting a deep, hypnotic spell upon Him. We could have gone on standing there for ages, neither speaking nor moving. Just staring. When I could stand the not-knowing any longer, I gathered up the courage, and the strength, to speak.
"Erik, was this Christine's room?" It was an innocent question, one that should have been very easily answered. As I would come to learn, however, nothing was ever easy for an opera ghost.
"What did you say?" His head snapped sharply to me, those dangerous orbs on fire. They stabbed into me, causing my thoughts to scatter, my words fluttering out of my throat.
Perhaps He didn't understand me. I could barely understand myself with my jaw so swollen, my words were pained and forced, maybe I needed to repeat myself.
Very, very timidly I added, "Christine? Was this her room?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted saying them. He had, without a doubt, completely understood me the first time. He turned from me, placing the small box into the dresser and slamming it shut. He took harsh, hurried steps out of the room. I followed, not wanting to be left alone in some foreign place, especially when that unfamiliar room rested in Erik's bizarre home. He slammed the door, the heavy wood just missing my passing frame.
"Where did you hear that name?" He said it as not so much of a question, but a demand for an answer.
"I…I have heard the story. Of you and her."
"You are never, never, to speak that name again! Do you understand me?"
I solemnly nodded my head in obedience.
"So ungrateful you are! I saved you, Alessandra. I rescued you from that vile, little stagehand, and this is how you repay me?"
"Erik, please, let me explain!" I pleaded taking His arms with my petite hands. As soon as my flesh came into contact with the cloth which covered His skin, He ripped them away, flinging my hands through the air.
"I warned you, with not one letter but two to stay away, and still you did not listen. You directly disobeyed me, Alessandra." He advanced on me, His lengthy frame hovering over my body. "And now, you must suffer the consequences."