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Lovephantom83

He shook her and, gripping her wrists with an iron force, pulled her harshly towards his body.

'Didn't I tell you that this damned room would not be touched by any means?' This time, fury took over him.

Her eyes went wide open and her breathing became irregular. 'I…I'm sorry but I…'

He did not let her explain herself because he had already cornered her against the wall. His glance was fixed on hers.

'YOU ARE SORRY, YOU, prying little child, you have just done something I had CLEARLY warned you against,' his voice was now a fierce growl, which made Angie close her eyes. 'What were you trying to do?' His face was even closer- 'Hmmm?' Sharply, he lifted her face. 'Look at me when I'm talking to you, damned girl!'

She raised her chin and looked at him directly, without a blink. God, how much strength and power she had seen in that man, which she had considered completely harmless and quiet until that moment. Angie gulped and half a smile came over her lips…

'Good show. I'm…' She looked him from head to toe. '…really comfortable cornered on this wall, victim of your rage attack but…'- she pointed to the floor- 'I've got still chores to do in YOUR house before midnight…'.

Erik seemed confused for a moment. She had not cried… she had not weeped… God, she had not even made any move to free herself from his grasp? No, she had just answered that she was "really comfortable" with an insolent grin and a bold glare as if she dared to challenge him. That only made him angrier, as he tightened the hold he had on her and causing a surprised gasp to merge from her mouth.

'I'm glad you enjoy it, meddlesome child, because if you ever do anything similar or worse… believe me, this will be the lesser damage you will encounter in your way'- his voice rised up again- 'So I hope I won't have to repeat this again.'

She remained unmoving, just holding his gaze with a serious expression on her face and thick, restrained tension showing on her features. He pushed her aside violently, not even trying to behave civil to her. She had to bring herself on her feet without help.

'You better hurry with your chores before I regret it…'- his voice sounded calmed now. She still did not move but stared at him attentively, instead of obeying the dismissal-'Get out of my sight, now!'

Only then Angie abandoned the room immediately. Not a tear, not a shiver. No reaction.

Thoughtful, Erik came out of the room shortly afterwards. If she wanted to play, as the eighteen-year-old she was, she would have his game. She had just become the victim of his master plan.

Emma was sitting in one of the rooms in the company of her partner.

'When has the little ingenue planned to arrive? I'm afraid we can't waste any more time with her…'

'As long as she comes back willingly… the rest is just a question of time. Patience…'.

Emma smiled to herself, as she placed a glass in its place.

After nearly an hour, Christine had finished unpacking her few belongings. Her dresses, some precious trifles from the manor… She looked around her with nostalgia. She was living in a…room which was large enough for her, a place where she could sleep, a roof to shelter her from the world. And the ties that bound her to her former house, that could have survived Raoul somehow and reminded her of the life she had carried before his death, were slowly vanishing. She felt withdrawn from everything and everyone.

She was almost ready when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

'Mademoiselle Daaé, we must speak to you.'

She turned around and nodded gently. Emma took her arm, a bit more vigorously than usual, and closed the door of her room.

Night had come over Paris. It had been a day in which he had fought once more with his true feelings. And, even though that continuous struggle left him exhausted, darkness brought him peace, inspiration and…safety. It had always done so.

Under the little gas lamp he had been working for hours on his designs. Working compulsively, avoiding thinking at all costs. For a moment he wanted to forget everything and focus on his designs, the only thing that was important in his life now. But that was completely impossible. He tried hard, a thousand times every day, but the result was always the same. Besides, the fact that he had a silly nosy girl at home did nothing to help his mood…

At the same time he was glad that she had committed such a disobedience. He still had her glare in his mind. Determined, unblinking… Her words, her subtle insinuation troubled him but he knew she was unaware that she would be the perfect victim for the plans he had been outlining since the night Christine had abandoned him for Raoul. And now, she toyed with his feelings, expecting that he would have been awaiting her with open arms. No, he would give her a taste of her own medicine. He could already taste his vengeance, cold but sweet at the same time.

But he missed his music. He missed the time he had spent next to her, teaching and watching how the most wonderful sounds sprung from her gifted throat under his careful tutoring. Her heavenly voice entwined with his in that musical ecstasy that came alive when they both started singing. It was a glorious show in which they were the only players and the only witnesses. Ah, why did magnificent things such as that feeling escape his hands so fast?

He looked at his violin. He had not played neither it nor the piano since that day. The day his subconscious tortured him with painful flashes every so often.

Erik stood up from his desk and took the violin. He denied loving her or at least he tried but he loved music, that was unquestionable. Music had been the only corresponding love in his life and he could not betray it.

He treated the instrument with gentle adoration and sat in a confortable sofa next to his desk. The fire had been lit for a long time. He started to play a beautiful, haunting, nostalgic melody with all his feeling. He closed his eyes, letting every note to enter every pore of his skin. A lonely tear rolled down his cheek…for the first time in a long time.

The girl had retired from his presence since the incident but when she listened to that magical sound, she came nearer. She stopped by the threshold of his drawing room, watching him intently. Eyes closed, his half-mask shinning in the firelight, his hands caressing the violin and creating with that passionate gesture that divine melody. In fact, that was the most beautiful scene she had ever had the pleasure to witness in her whole life, and if it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object, she could have sworn that she was that very moment.

She decided to retreat to the solitude of her room when she felt that her presence had been noticed at last.

The room was small. A little round table in the centre and three armchairs surrounded it, each of them occupied by Emma, Marie and Christine.

'Dear,' Marie begun, 'We are very happy that you finally decided to settle in.'

She nodded, a bit tremulous.

'It's the only place I have to live in now, Madame. I made the choice, unconsciously…'

'So did you,' intervened Emma, 'but you must realize that this is not just a house. This is a residence, which implies a series of responsibilities from your part.'

She frowned. 'Responsibilities?'

Marie laughed, not in a friendly way, but in a sinister and ironic tone. 'Of course, did you think that you could use our home as if it were your personal apartment? Whoever stays here must attain to our rules…'

Christine fixed her eyes on the table and nodded again. The sound of those words made her realize something: she had willingly entered Hell itself.