The music never really stopped, even now I still hear it. Faintly, softly repeating it's melody in my head, wrapping it's analgesic grip around my consciousness. Lucidity came and for brief moments I was frightened, fearful of what I had just experienced. Then, like a powerful dose of insensate medication, the music returned and soothed my worries.

This constant shift of emotion paralyzed me, and I was unable to move my body off the floor, which I am sure would be quite chilling, If I could feel it. I lay there for hours that felt like days, each second dripping down the bedroom walls at a maddeningly sluggish pace. In the harmony-induced haze, I was quite sure that my mind was playing tricks on me. Several times I saw Erik walk through the door, gliding in like a spirit condemned to haunt me. On His first few visits, He dared not move more than a few feet from the frame. He would walk in, still in full possession of His confidently arrogant gait, mumble a few words, and then leave.

When He managed to make His way over to my cowering body, I knew I had to be hallucinating. He stood over me, a look of wonder and curiosity spread across His face. He then kneeled down beside me and brushed a few wisps of hair from my forehead, smoothing the concentrated wrinkles out with His thumb. I immediately reacted and bolted upright.

This was real. He is real.

I shuffled on my hands and knees to the far corner of the room, and buried my head in my arms. Rocking back and forth, I hummed along to the symphony that was playing inside my mind. I shut everything else out, the room, myself, Erik…

Until there was only the music.

"Alessandra!"

Erik grabbed my shoulders and began to shake them, removing me from my trance. I stared up at Him, completely unaware of what had just occurred. Everything seemed to come about in slow motion, every syllable spoken taking an eternity to emerge from my mouth. Every breath intensified, oxygen transformed into an almost unbearable weight to take in and draw out.

"Erik," I breathed, turning towards Him.

"Are you well?" He asked, running a searing hand down my arm. I glanced at it, half expecting to see the skin blistering from the contact, but quickly returned my attention to the man sitting before me.

I nodded, and taking that as a signal to move forward, Erik rose, pulling me up with Him. When He removed His hands, I swayed, and they returned to my shoulders, steadying me.

Perception and logical thought had returned to me, and only now did I think of asking Erik about the music.

"Erik, what was that?"

His eyes shot up, a bit shocked by my audacity. "That," He turned from me and paced around the bed, "that was pain."

"I don't understand," I admitted, "That music was so…beautiful, and yet bruising at the same time. It made me feel alive, Erik. Uninhibited, untamed."

He turned around sharply, pieces of His ebony hair whipping from place atop His usually slicked back coif. A menacing eyebrow raised to the crown of His forehead as He stepped toward me.

"And yet," I continued, "it drew me to it, compelled me to follow it. When I found I could not, it hurt me. I physically felt pain as it beckoned me and when I could not return it's summon, it was almost too much to bare."

I looked up at Him hopefully, "Is that what you meant by pain, Erik?"

"No."

"Then what did you-"

"Physical pain is nothing but an illusion!" He shouted, clenching His fists at the sides of His waist. He bounded toward me, and I all but slammed my head against the wall as I struggled to move away from Him.

"Erik!" I cried as He brought His hands to the base of my neck. But, instead of throttling my throat, His hand slid past it to my hair. Slowly, He wound a tendril around His finger, taking great time to execute every twirl of His fingertip.

His eyes glazed over, becoming glassy and distant. I recognized the same stare from our previous encounter in this room. I silently prayed it would not end the same way.

Just above a whisper, His voice trembling with emotion, He spoke.

"You look so much like her."

As much as it hurt me to hear those words from Erik's mouth, it also caused me to realize something. My only way out, was sardonically, my only way in. I knew Erik was not always in a perfect frame of mind, and I admit I felt rather guilty at the stratagem that was rapidly forming in my mind.

No, I was not Christine. I was not, and never would be who He needed me to be. But, if I reminded Him of her, if I could convince Him that I was her…

I blinked furiously, trying to erase the tainted thoughts that swirled round like a whirlpool, helplessly dragging me to the bottom. Shaking His hands off of me, I moved to the opposite end of the boudoir.

My features looked nothing like the woman's in the charcoal portrait. I had a stronger, noticeably darker appearance, whereas Christine was softer, much more delicate. Her face was innocent, angelic even. I, however, was far from innocent, the slight lines forming on my forehead revealing years of hardships. In fact, physically, there really were no parallels between us at all.

And yet, He noticed something. Erik sensed some invisible link between us that I could never understand. I dared not ask, for I think He barely comprehended the reason Himself.

I stood, alone, intently watching His every movement. The rise and fall of His shoulders with every breath He took, the furrowing of His brow, the way He awkwardly walked over to me, head downcast. He was so unsure of Himself now, the arrogance and sophistication vanishing before my eyes. Without looking up at me, He spoke in hushed tones.

"Please, don't turn away from me. You know I could never deny you anything, Christine. Why will you refuse me now?"

Every hope, every hidden desire I once secretly harbored plummeted as the words fell from His mouth. He never wanted me, and I knew now He never would.

I stifled a sob at the sound of her name. I bit down on my lip and tried to focus in on the physical pain. Tears loomed menacingly on my lashes, I could feel my throat begin to burn. I bit down harder, trying to lose myself in the sharp sting. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, but I could feel nothing, physically. Inside, my heart was breaking. A cold iron fist tore my heart open, the very act of breathing became painful. I knew now what Erik had meant. Physical pain was a veil, a delusion. It did not matter how hard my lip throbbed, how much my jaw ached, how bruised my neck was. All of it paled in comparison to the pain I felt inside.

Rejection was something I had never experienced before. Never was I declined anything. Audric saw to it that I received any garment, any parfum, any wine that I so desired. Now, without ever even asking, I was denied the one thing I wanted most. Erik.

I panicked, and the stubborn, foolish girl I despised emerged again. I knew it was impossible to be Christine, but I would be damned if I didn't try. All my life, I had been trained to be someone else. Every night, I was someone else. He would not deny Christine, He said so Himself. How could He deny me now?

"Touch me like you touched her," I pleaded, grabbing Erik's hand and placing it roughly onto my décolleté. He gazed up at me, completely dumbfounded.

"Alessandra, forgive me," He stuttered. I felt Him pulling back, but I only tightened my grip on His hand.

"I can be what you want, Erik. Let me be what you need," I purred, my old tactics coming back into play. I shot Him a dangerous glare, my lips forming into a seductive smirk. When He failed to move, I took His other hand and placed it below my neck. Trancelike, He slowly moved His hands up and down my exposed neckline. He was so concentrated, so focused on the movement, He could not see my uneasiness. I could hear Him murmuring her name, and I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound of her name upon His lips.

Instinctually, my hands slid down His arms, coiling my fingers into the material of His evening coat. I arched my head back, allowing Him better access to my skin. An unfamiliar sensation ran deep into the pit of my stomach.

More. I needed more from Erik. I needed to be wanted, I needed Him to show me how much He needed me.

"Erik," I breathed, "I want you to kiss me like you kissed her."