Erik did his best to compose himself, but he knew he couldn't. This young woman had brought up too many painful memories of Christine, and he had to get rid of her somehow. "I'm sorry, Miss de Launce, but you're going to have to leave. Tonight."
Veronique was stunned. How could a man so kind and gentle as Erik become so angry and hostile after one song was sung? It puzzled her, and she wanted to find out why. "Monsieur Erik, w-w-why must I leave? I insist I find out at this instant." Her voice trembled with rage and bitterness towards this man. He had treated her so nicely, and suddenly told her that she cannot stay. She would have to live on the streets again, sleeping in doorways and singing for money and food.
"It is a difficult subject, and I wish to discuss it no longer." Erik knew what had to be done, and yet he still knew so little about this extremely talented and beautiful young woman. How did she become an orphan? What had happened in her life that made her seem so wise beyond her years? "Now, tell me, Mademoiselle Veronique. How did you become an orphan? Was it some tragic accident?" He asked her with such passion and intrigue that she couldn't refuse an answer.
Nobody had ever brought up this subject, not since she first arrived at the orphanage. Her green eyes brimmed with tears as she began her tale. "My parents were murdered. We were attending an opera, here at the Opera Populaire, and they wanted to congratulate La Carlotta personally. They told me to wait on the stage, but I followed them. As they made their way to her dressing room, they didn't see the man. The man with the punjabs." Her voice trembled and she began to sob, breathing heavily between each phrase. "He must have -- been her bodyguard -- and didn't want her to -- see anyone, -- because he slipped the punjab -- around each of their necks -- and hung them."
She could go on no longer. She fell to the floor, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Erik had no idea what a hard life she had led, seeing her own parents murdered. Then he remembered. He was the one who had killed her parents. La Carlotta had performed extremely bad that night, and he wanted a way to scare her and make her leave the opera house. He waited for some people to approach her dressing room, and he hung the first couple he saw. After this revelation, he felt such pity for Veronique. He couldn't send her away. Not now. She could never know this dark secret.
He spoke very softly. Veronique could scarcely hear him whisper, "You may stay." She nodded in understanding, and motioned to the bed. Erik, exhausted as well, picked her up off the floor and carried her over to his bed. It was very extravagant, especially for a bed. It was shaped as a swan, and deep red satin sheets lined it. Erik gently lay her down, and she fell asleep instantly. He pulled the curtain down, and watched her dream.
Seeing a woman in his bed, it once again reminded him of Christine. The way her curly hair fanned out over the pillows. Her eyes fluttered open once again and she sat up, waking from a terrible nightmare. Her breathing was heavy, and her forehead was covered with perspiration.
"Erik..." she mumbled. "I had a dream about my parents and the night they died. I dreamt that you were the killer..." As she uttered these words, she fainted.