Her eyes over heated rolled over with the constant swells of tears. The hot liquid seemed to burn her flushed cheeks as they raced down her face and onto her neck. She held her head craning it over to phantoms face and to hold his hand, he was still warm but was fading fast. She felt sharp heavy anger sting her, like the smack of a whip. The gun in her shirt seemed heavier, as if was wanting to be used. The gun was loaded.
"How can you do this!" Christine shouted. A man was bleakly grinning but ripe with madness. He tossed his sword to the side making sure it skidded off a gravestone making an eerie clanking noise. "He is now in a better place, Christine, his life was horrible here." The woman felt a hot mesh of furry cover her body making herself shake all over, "I-i w-will kill myself! I rather be dead then be with a man like you! yes, the phantom killed. His life was horrible! he was used just for profit, like a piece of property." Raoul sat smiling but shadowed like she had spoke sins, "The only property here is you, woman." Christine let off a subsided yelp as he roughly grabbed her by the neck and shook her hard, "I said the only property is you!" he through her hard and pleasurably made a mocking appeal as her heard an echoed snap. The woman fell blankly the prickled with pain, her wrist was bent backwards.
She crawled over to Erik's side and huddled up to his body, now cold. "At least I shall die with the one I love." The man bellowed and hooted with laughter if watching some sort of comedy skit,"the new home of yours is hell!" He slapped his knee hawing and hooting as Christine cooed warm words to the phantom's body. "I may be in hell, but I will be with an angel that has lived a life harder then hell." She said and pressed her lips one last farewell over Erik's. Raoul laughed again, "I can help you go to hell," he said very calmly reaching over to his tossed sword. She closed her eyes, tightly as a long narrow breath escaped her.
Was it her last? her long embrace hung onto the tortured phantom as she drummed in her love deep. It was then a long arm slid up her shirt, the cold remorse of a gun to shape in her wandering hand. She pulled it out to only see one last expression on a hated man before one peaceful bang ripped throughout the country side.
Their wandering souls lost in a deep sleep could be free. A stifled yawn in winter was stopped, a young sun now peeked out from the clouds above. A gun by the woman's side, her ever more hated companion.