Disclaimer: I think everyone knows this, but I do not own Phantom of the Opera, although I wish I did... and Erik too, I do not own him...
In any case, I thank everyone that has reviewed me! I love you guys so much.
Though a Rose May Fade…
Chapter V- All a Dream
His body jerked up in his bed, sweat dampened the bed sheets. His eyes were bloodshot. His whole body shivered just thinking about it. It was all a dream, yes, but it seemed so real. It wasn't the first time the dream occurred. It tore at his mind persuading him to pass the very border of sanity. It made him go mad for some time. He just wished it would all go away. Pain grazed his very heart and soul. He knew exactly what the cause of this pain was: love. His undying love for Christine injected the venom through him.
Damn her, he thought but instantly regretted the words. He held his head in his hands. Why does she have to make me feel this way? Why do I still care about her and dream about her and see her face in my thoughts?
A little voice answered his question like a knife stabbing him in the heart. You love her… You need her…
He punched the wall in agony until his knuckles bled. The walls had tiny dents in them, stained quite a bit by Erik's blood. His hands were a bloody mess and it was all because of Christine. He couldn't deny the fact that he didn't and couldn't ever hate her. In truth, he loved her all the more. He didn't want to, he couldn't fathom down the fact that she was never coming back to him. Doing that would be impossible. Doing that would only be a dream. His heart belonged to her. He willingly handed it to her the first time he took her to his dark world. She had made him weak with longing for just one more night with her…
He wondered what she was doing now. Would she look at the night stars as he did? Would she ever think about him too? Did she ever have second thoughts about her choice that night? He laughed hollowly at his last thought.
Of course not. She loves him. That's why she chose him, you fool. Can't you see that no matter how much you love her she will never be yours? Stop living in your stupid fantasy and just face it. She is probably making love to her precious Vicomte this very moment! He thought to himself.
"Shut the hell up." He spoke aloud to his conscience. Could loving someone cause you to obtain schizophrenia? He felt like he was already insane.
I have had so many sleepless nights all because of you. He thought. Although he was not telepathic, he really hoped that by some miracle she would hear this.
His fingers instinctively clutched this object he had latched on his neck by a chain. He always seemed to cling to it, depend on it when he was thinking of her. It was his only path of freedom if only for a mere second. When he clutched that ring, he remembered her and it seemed the only precious object he would ever have from her besides those hollow memories. His fingers gently traced the outline of the rim. It was the ring he had given to her, but she just threw it back at him. He gave her everything he had and she just threw it back at him and spit in his face.
He thought of a plan and wrenched the ring off its chain. He was breathing heavily as if he had fought a long war, which he had deep inside of him. He was losing that battle. He frowned inwardly at the metal that lay in his hands. All he needed to do was to drop it in the sewer or out onto the dirt. He flinched at the thought. He just couldn't bring himself to. Forgetting was much worse than remembering.
He sighed, the strength he once had now leaving him. He was just about to go to bed when a sound reached his ear. Could it be footsteps? Only one person knew where he had gone. He cursed her. She wasn't supposed to come until Thursday and today was merely a Monday. He hated Mondays for all they were worth.
"Antoinette, don't you realize it is a Monday? It is not a…" his voice trailed off as he turned to see the figure before him. He must've been dreaming. It just couldn't be real.
"Christine?"
