A ribbon of red silk, the rhythmic swing of a metronome, a gasping of breath. Erik's eyes slid shut as all possible thought drifted from grasp and a most exquisite pain flowed over. He could feel his pulse throb with each pull from the woman in his arms, a pulse that danced in delight from his impaled neck and shuddering abdomen.

A slight shift from his side alerted him she was pulling away. Swiftly he raised his hand to her head, holding her close, pushing her on. She could not stop, not now, not with this awesome pleasure taking hold of him. He could feel himself dying, he wanted to die, if only to let this continue a moment longer.

In a sudden burst of self-control, Christine wretched herself from the deadly embrace. It could not end like this. She would not let it. Taking one look at his sprawled form, eyes drawn forcefully to those two small specs of red, slowly growing in size, the trembling girl flung herself from his side, a loud shriek emanating from her coated throat.

Eyes of fire snapped open, taking in the huddled girl against the wall, as a hand gently prodded his wounded neck. He did not move, did not seem to breathe, only sat there motionless, staring while Christine's hands clawed in against her hair.

She could not bear to look up into those eyes which surely now saw what a monster she was, knew what demon had taken over his angel, his one touch of purity. She sobbed, she shrieked at her own horror, she tore at her scalp and pushed ever farther against the wall and floor as though her flames lay just beyond it.

Christine didn't hear him approach but felt a single finger tremble as it lifted her chin. Her eyes refused to look up.

The finger then pushed lightly against the top of her lip only to retreat as though it had been burned. The sound of a door slamming was the only thing that brought her tear stained eyes from the floor. He was gone.

She sat there silently, her body continuing to tremble as the tears made silent streaks across her face. Somehow she expected music but there was none. It was just empty.

When she opened his door, Christine found his body rigidly seated before the organ, remaining fearfully still though a deep breath could be vaguely heard.

"Erik…" Her voice was hollow, empty, but so painfully Christine's, the voice he remembered from long ago and hadn't realize it had been missed. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her, but Christine could tell it wasn't her he was seeing. There was no recognition in that face, no trace of compassion, no anything. It was just empty.

But then he spoke though his lips made barely a movement. "Tell me everything."

And she could tell it wasn't a request. If ever he made a command of her, it was paled by those three words, yet his voice was barely above a whisper.

Christine opened her mouth, knowing there was no turning back. Everything, he would have to know everything and then she would leave. Slip back into the night, back into Catherine's embrace, back where she was no longer a demon, and Erik would forget her.

"Her name is Catherine, and she asked me to die for her."

And thus begins Christine's narrative

If you're squeamish, this may be the point to stop reading as this story may tread into an R rating.

As always, please R&R even if you want to stab me in the heart with a spoon for my 6months hiatus.