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ATTENTION: this part might be a little raw T+ more around M in this chapter
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Christine tried to hold cover her face, hiding her soft features. "It's to late!" he rumbled spraying bits of spittle upon her neck. She covered her face fully, "Do not hide from me dear, I will not hurt you." he parted her hands from her face, and barred giving her a wicked smile. Christine's stomach churned slightly as her eyes watched innocently as he traced his hand around her. Where was Erik. Laughing horsely, yes she believed to think he was drunk he threw his arms around her waist and jerked her off the bench. She fell on top of him, he was grinning his hair was astray and his breathing was fast. His eyes rolled a bit, he was hot and sweaty. The young woman's legs turned into wood, now the puppeteer had his puppet, she tried to move but with one tug of the strings she was his. She kicked with her boots trying to hit any part of him while foolishly searched through her vest trying to find the dagger.
The very damn blade was in the snow, she swore in his face letting her hair stream all about. He was certifiable below her, madness was slowly consuming his body as he laughed his face red "Just another common whore!" he shouted enjoying Christine's panicky reaction as she continued to kick at him. Then with one thrust his bellows echoed everywhere, he repulsively threw the woman away from him screeching insults that would make a sea dog sick.
"You horrible little bitch!" He grabbed at the spot Christine had fired her blow at, right in the groin. She lay still in the snow, to afraid to look the mad man in the eyes. He now prowled over her limp body to claim his prize. A sudden large black cape flourished, the phantom pounced over Christine to draw out a blade. She grimaced as Roul fell back screaming utterly colorful words.
The phantom started down at him, his stare was hard and cold. Christine had the chance to stand up as she backed away from her spot breathing hard. She whispered slightly, "No blood shall be spilled," but she feared she was wrong. The phantom peered over at the vicomete his voice came slow now, "You bastardly fool, hang me for the hell of it! KILL ME!" he shouted, oh how much Erik wanted to, to stare at the headless vicomete was a dream come true. If he did kill him, beady eyes would only stare back at him. Now more tones of fake lies, no more flowery words to woman. The man needed his head resting on a sword end, the phantom shook at him "I will not kill you."
The vcomete just laughed as his eyes lolled back and fourth in his head if brushing away a whole deal of lies. "Why should I believe you? You are only a mere Gypsy's toy." The phantom now leveled his sword at the vcometes throat, "One more word, that shall be the end of you." The phantom sneered, he could feel Raoul's chest heave slowly if the tides of sea. "I will leave you alone, yes alone. Christine will no longer be yours." bravely the man snorted but stopped as the phantom's blade nicked his throat. To the mention of christine, Erik peered over to look at the young woman who was froze with fright, she looked at him gravely.
Just one mistake in the whole game could be lost, a jab from the enemy sent the phantom buckling over. His mask was on the ground by his side, his hands sprawled out. The phantom was limp, the snow was a blanket for him. Now only a mask, no eyes stared out, was by his side. Sweet blood was also a company.