DISCLAIMER: Please refer to Chapter Two

As he pressed the last note on his new masterpiece, Erik could not help but smile. It was the first time in years he was able to write for himself.

He found it odd that his mood had changed to drastically. Christine had barely left him less than a week ago, and he was on the verge of suicide that same night. He had no idea why suddenly he felt that life was actually worth living.

He stared down at his parchment. It had been the product of so many feelings. He poured out every heartbreak, every disappointment, every savored moment, and every single thought he had been feeling that week.

For the first time in months, Erik actually was in the mood to leave the lair. He sprang from his organ bench, fetched his cloak, and made his way out of the catacombs.

I wonder if Cecilia would like to join me.

No, she is in her bath. Let her alone.

Why would she want to come with a monster anyway?

So, with slightly dampened spirits, the Opera Ghost left his lair.

Cecilia seemed to all of a sudden glow with desire and need. True, she had never known the physical love of a man, but ever since she walked in on Fredrick and Suzanne, she could not help but wonder what it would be like.

Trying to keep her ex-fiancé out of her mind, she began to groom herself. She carefully brushed her golden hair to ensure that her curls would keep intact. Next, she helped herself to the slew of lotions and perfumes eloquently stacked in a row atop of the vanity. With hair and skin smelling of summer lilies, she moved onto the array of powers and blushes neatly placed in the small drawer.

There is no way he is going to resist me.

She gazed at herself in the mirror and smiled. She had never thought of herself as a ravishing beauty, but she did have to admit that tonight she looked pretty damn good.

She walked over to the bureau and acquired some undergarments. As she slipped on the black lacy knickers she bent over to retrieve the equally lacy black corset from the drawer. It was Christine's or more appropriately should have been Christine's. Although the corset was a size or two too small, Cecilia rather liked what it did for her figure. Her tiny waist was more accented as usual and her rather ample bosom was leaving little to one's imagination.

Finally, she made her way to the dress closet. As she fumbled through the frocks, she noticed that Erik has indeed purchased a dress for her.

Well that was nice of him.

But this occasion was not a dress occasion. So, she found the next best thing: Christine's cloak. As she again slipped on the velvet confection, she felt entirely like a different person. Even as she looked at herself in the mirror, she was not the bratty yet innocent composer's daughter. She was now a raging seductress. She chuckled at the thought.

As she leaned her ear to the door, she could not hear anymore music coming from the sitting room.

He must have retired to his bedchamber.

She opened her chamber door and tiptoed to the mysterious chamber of Erik. As she opened the door, she glimpsed a single window into Erik's tormented soul. Her eyes were gazing upon hundreds of thousands of pictures, drawings, and sculptures of Christine. She saw sketches, oils, watercolors, and even a human-sized doll complete with beautiful long hair.

Cecilia's eyes opened wide when she began to recognize the woman. It is Christine Daae. He is in love with Christine Daae.

The hair on the back of her neck rose. Cecilia was dumbfounded. No wonder he is having such difficulties. Isn't she engaged to the Viacompt?

Being rather close to the de Changy family, Cecilia naturally knew all of their secrets. She was told by Raoul himself of his engagement the vary night he asked the pretty diva. Cecilia could not help but wonder why Erik was in love with Christine.

She is only a child. Barely even eighteen years old! He must be in his mid-thirties. What would a man his age want with such a young bride?

She cursed at herself. Why did she care if he loved Christine? What did it matter?

Cecilia then realized the truth. She was jealous, and she was in love. She gasped at the realization. After Fredrick, she thought she would never love again.

I have only known him for a little over a week.

True, but he is the only person in the world who truly understands you.

But he is a murderer! He almost killed you.

But he did save your life.

Suddenly repulsed by her seductive, or almost seductive, behavior, she hurried back to her room, closed the door, and flung herself embarrassingly on her bed.

He would never want you. Why would he ever want you when she has the face and voice of an angel? Even your Fredrick wanted someone else.

Cecilia decided to come to terms with the truth. Erik loved Christine and would never love her.

Hell, he barely even likes me.

As her thoughts overtook her, she began to weep.

Meanwhile, Erik was enjoying a nice brisk walk in the darkened streets of Paris. Perfectly hidden in the darkness, he was able to observe the coming and going of people. As he turned down a rather well-lit street, he pulled his cloak over his eyes. He all of a sudden heard a faint sound of music. There must be a party in Paris tonight.

As his ears followed the sounds of music, his eyes became transfixed on a window. He peered in and saw the ever-stunning Christine. As waltzing people danced in front of her, Erik could see her smiling as her Viacompt handed her a glass of white wine. She was ravishing in her pink gown. Her pretty brown curls had been pulled up into a cascading chignon with scores of white flowers. She was surrounded by six or seven ladies pushing and pulling each other in order to get a glimpse at her engagement ring. As she held out her lily white hand, Erik caught her staring lovingly into the eyes of her fiancé.

Erik's heart sank in his chest. He knew then that Christine was no longer his. He watched as her fiancé kissed her cheek, and saw her eyes sparkle as he walked away from her. She was glowing. Erik had never recalled seeing her so happy.

The Viacompt had everything that Erik had ever wished for. Most importantly, he had the love of Christine. Erik longed to have her look at him with such adoration. He longed for the slight chance of being able to kiss her cheek without her flinching or avoiding his affection. Most of all, he wanted to be the one responsible for her happiness.

However, he would not have felt more miserable or monstrous. Goodbye Christine. He turned around in one rapid movement and started his journey back to the opera house with tears pouring down his masked face.

Erik returned to the lair with a large bottle of brandy. Once sitting down and preparing to pour himself a drink, he heard Cecilia weep in her chamber. Curious as to what had upset her, he grabbed his brandy, poured a second glass, and gently knocked on Cecilia's door. When there was no answer, he began to slowly open it.

"Cecilia is something wrong?" he asked as she immediately sat up and shielded her face from him.

"Oh, Erik," she began with her voice cracking, "everything is fine. Where did you go?"

"I took a walk around Paris. Do not change the subject, Cecilia, what is wrong."

"Nothing," she said as she turned her now red face towards him.

He noticed that she had cleaned herself up rather nicely. Her curls were perfectly intact and the entire room smelled of lilies. Erik quickly became intoxicated by the scent.

Not really knowing what to do, he held up the second glass of brandy to her.

"Here, this will ease whatever your pain may be."

"Thank you," she replied as she took a small sip from the glass.

They sat on the bed in silence for a few moments. In hopes of making her feel better, Erik turned his face to her.

"You look very pretty."

She smiled a small smile in reply. She did not know if he really meant it or was merely saying it to make her feel better.

"Thank you," she again said almost inaudibly.

"Well, you better get to bed. I am sure you have better things to do than entertain a Phantom," he said as he arose and walked out of the room before she even had the chance to say anything.

Obviously something is bothering him.

She quickly guzzled down the remaining brandy, and decided to find out what was indeed wrong with Erik.

Erik had retreated to the sanctuary of his room. He sat on his four-poster bed and gazed at all of his pictures of Christine. He succumbed to the torture his mind inflicted on his heart. He delved further into his obsession with her. He sat and contemplated every single moment he spent with her.

He decided that he could not live without her. Setting down his second glass of brandy, he reached over to his bedside table. Opening the drawer, he pulled out his weapon: his lasso. This time he was ready for death.

As he strung the rope around the top of his sturdy bed, he stood up on the mattress and slipped the rope around his neck.

As he was tightening it, his door opened.

"Erik," he heard Cecilia's concerned voice scream, "what are you doing?"

The surprise almost made him fall off the side of the rather tall bed. As he regained his balance, Cecilia was already by his side. Taking his knife from his corner desk, she cut the rope from Erik's neck.

"What in the Hell do you think you are doing?" she screamed at him.

"What the Hell did it look like I was doing?" he replied.

"Why do you want to kill yourself, Erik?"

"Because life without her is no longer worth living!"

"Erik, Christine does not love you. Just accept it and move on. It is the only way you can be happy again."

Erik's anger began to build up again.

"How do you know her name was Christine? What are you even doing here?"

"I came to see if you are alright!" she said as she looked again around his room, "This is not healthy, Erik." She gestured at the paintings and the doll.

Now having his anger in full force, he stormed towards her, backing her up in the corner right next to the doll.

"I do not give a damn!" he loudly growled, "I never asked you for your opinion. Get out of my room."

"No."

"Get out or I will be forced to do something I am sure you will not like very much."

"Fine. On one condition."

"And what is that Mademoiselle," he growled as she was testing his patience.

"I take this." She ducked under Erik's arm, grabbed the doll of Christine, and ran to her room. Erik, in a brief moment of shock, turned and began to pursue her. However, Cecilia was already safe in her locked bedroom once Erik made it to her door.

As he pounded on her door, she could hear him scream, "Give that back now! I swear the moment you emerge, I will kill you! If you never leave, then you will starve to death you conniving Delilah!"

Erik stood at her door for at least an hour yelling and threatening her before he hit the door once more and retreated to his organ. He pressed on throughout the night with his again devilishly haunting music. Finally, well into the night, Cecilia could hear him retreat to his room.

Having stripped the doll of her hair and clothing, Cecilia emerged from her bedchamber and crept toward the lake. Having tied a leftover brick to the doll, Cecilia dropped it into the lake. Hoping that the slash did not awaken Erik, she scurried back to her room and locked the door.

"Now, it is time to finish what I started," she whispered.