Here's the new chapter. I'm glad the previous chapter was well recieved, depressing though it was. This one isn't much better, I'm afraid. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. Don't stop!

Chapter 20

I sat on that cold floor long after my sobs and dried up and the noise on the other side of the door had ceased. Every part of my body felt sore, but inside I felt crushed.

I had no idea how long Erik had pounded on the door, half-screaming, half-sobbing at me to come out… but even when he had left I heard the sounds of objects being smashed and angry chords from the piano. It sounded as though he were tearing the place apart.

My mind would still not fully take in what was happening. It wasn't even the memory of Erik's face that was haunting me. Somehow, his appearance was immaterial to me now. It didn't matter. But Erik's reaction did. For the first time since first meeting him I had actually believed he would kill me. He almost had, I realised as I reached up and fingered the bruising on my neck where he had held me in that death grip.

That had brought a sudden, horrific realisation to my mind. Up until now I had almost succeeded in convincing myself that Erik was not dangerous, at least to me. I hadn't wanted to believe it. In fact, I had almost begun to believe that the man I had first met, who had pulled me down here by force and threatened me and my family, had been someone else entirely… not the kind, generous Erik I had fallen in love with. Now I was struck with the harsh reality that there was no distinction between the two. There was only one Erik.

And there lay my dilemma. My Erik… the one I loved and had given myself to, was a murderer. That, perhaps, I could have lived with. But how was I supposed to live with the knowledge that, even in spite of his love for me, he was still capable of causing me this kind of pain… of putting his hand around my throat and squeezing the air from me until I was close to unconsciousness. How close had I been to dying? I hardly dared think. And it had been Erik's doing.

How was I meant to recover from that? My horror at seeing his face had been momentary. This fear of his anger I now felt could last a lifetime.

God… maybe it would have been better if I hadn't removed his mask. Bitterly I pressed my palm against my forehead. What good was regretful 'if only's going to do me now? It would change nothing. I had done what I had done. Even if I hadn't tonight, it probably would have happened sooner or later… possibly with the same result. But I would never know now. All I could hope for now was to escape with my life.

I sobbed. I don't know what upset me more, the desperate hope that I would live, or the fact that I felt the need to 'escape'.

I couldn't fathom any courage for a long time, and even when I went through the door I was trembling like a leaf, flinching at every shadow. I found myself praying for an outcome that did not involve death or more anger. Maybe it wasn't too late to regain Erik's trust… maybe I could explain why I felt the need to remove his mask… that I didn't find him disgusting, as he seemed to believe now.

Then I imagined him looking at me with that death's head, contorted by anger… asking me if I loved him, nearly threatening the answer from me, and I almost retreated back into the bathroom. I wasn't sure, now, that I could say I loved him and mean it. How could fear and love go together? Maybe I had been fascinated by the fear he inspired in me at one time… but it was his goodness that I had fallen in love with. I was drawn to that darkness about him… excited by that unpredictable character. But that was until I knew how deep that darkness went. All I could hope for now was that he might still retain some of that love and kindness… even after what had happened.

I pushed myself on, listening intently for any sign of life from the main chamber. I pushed back the heavy drape and, at first, thought I was alone. A treacherous part of me said that I might just be able to run for it, run for the entrance to the lair and try to escape. This urge was only heightened by the scene of destruction I saw around me. Almost every statue had been overturned, some broken and smashed, either in the fall or by some other means. Papers and books littered the floor, torn up, crumpled… no place seemed untouched by Erik's anger.

I looked again at the entrance and knew I couldn't do it. Even if I did get past the entrance, I would surely get lost in the labyrinth beyond it. That scared me, being lost in there, knowing that Erik would come looking for me. I shuddered, turned back to the main room…

… and realised that I wasn't alone.

Erik's hunched figure was at the piano, dressed head to toe in black. It made only the faintest of movements as a hand, clutching desperately at a pen, scratched against paper, writing something out feverishly… almost as if there was a demon inside him that could be exorcised through the written words.

I put my hand to my throat again, feeling the soreness. Again I thought about turning back… retreating. But I knew I couldn't. Even if I did… this was an inevitable confrontation. It could happen now, or later, but it would happen. I had to face Erik… even if it was only because I would need, in two more days, to return home.

I panicked. What if he refused to let me go?

Drawing myself together, I wet my lips nervously and then spoke his name in a shaking voice. The scratching of his pen halted instantly, but other than that he didn't move. He didn't even turn to face me as I dared to take a step closer to him. I wished I could see his face, so I would have at least some indication of what he was thinking. But then again, if he turned, he would see how frightened I was.

"Erik, I'm sorry," I said, as if an apology would solve everything, although I knew this was far from true. "I'm so sorry. I just… I don't know what I was thinking." Jesus, my voice was trembling so much I could barely get my words out. "I… I know I shouldn't have done it," I went on, with great effort. "But I felt as if I had to. Like I needed to see. I know that doesn't excuse what I did, but that's just how I felt. And… I don't know if you believe me, but… it doesn't matter to me."

I paused, unsure of how to go on and, at the same time, hoping desperately for a reaction. The tense atmosphere around us was almost as suffocating as Erik's grip had been, and I felt the marks on my neck throbbing in a painful reminder.

"What makes you think I would believe that?" Erik asked in a quiet, cold voice that made me shudder. He still hadn't turned around, but at least now I knew he was listening. "You took off my mask to see my face and suddenly it doesn't matter to you?"

He was getting angry again, I could tell, and I fought to keep a handle on my fear. "It doesn't, Erik. I swear. I just wanted to… to understand you. That's all."

He laughed, softly and bitterly. "That's all?" he asked with more than a trace of sarcasm. "You're telling me you feel no regret? No disgust? That you don't wish I looked like that boy?"

I was glad he still hadn't turned, otherwise he would have seen me wince, knowing whom he referred to. Somehow, mentioning Richard seemed a little unfair at this point, but I knew better than to comment on that now and risk inciting that murderous temper. Instead I replied: "Yes," making my voice as firm as possible. "Please believe me," I went on, and I really pleaded now. "I don't care about how you look." Then, remembering Erik's words earlier, I added. "Like you said… it's changed nothing."

Oh, I wished that were true. Desperately I wished that nothing had changed. But it had, even if I dared not say so aloud to him. It might not have been because of his face, but something had altered this relationship to the point where I felt I couldn't go back anymore. I was going to have to live with this for the rest of my life… with this fear. And even though the thought made me miserable, it was the price I had to pay for my life.

My words seemed to have made some impact on Erik, because now he turned to face me. But I didn't flinch at the sight of his face, even without the mask. I wanted to prove to him that it was true… that his face didn't matter to me. That, at least, was not a lie.

"You mean that?" he asked, his eyes staring directly into mine, searching for some hint of doubt or fear. I pushed aside my thoughts of escape… the misery and fear I felt… and concentrated, forcing myself to believe the words I had just spoken, knowing I couldn't allow even the barest trace of my uncertainty to show. Then I nodded slowly and as confidently as I could, never breaking eye contact.

"Then come here," he said, holding out his hand to me, as he had done so many times before. This time I had to hide my trembling as I closed the distance between us and put my hand in his. Then he made me jump by taking hold of my other hand, my left hand, and pulling it close to him. As I watched, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled something out. I only realised what exactly it was when he tried to slip the little gold band on my finger.

"Wait-" I began, feeling panic take over, and stopping at the feel of Erik's hand tightening around mine in warning. I stopped in my attempt of pulling my hand back and watched as the ring was slipped onto my finger. I swallowed painfully and looked up into his stare which was still somehow cold.

"You belong to me, Christine. Promise me now… give me your word."

Looking up at him, I remembered how, once, I had offered him my word, and he had told me that it meant nothing to him. A spark of hope lit up as I realised that he might still trust me. Maybe there was still some way to save us. But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw that hardness in his face and the coldness in his eyes, I knew it could not be as easy as that.

As the silence went on, his grip on my hand tightened again. "Say it, Christine."

"I promise," I whispered, knowing there was no other way.

And there wasn't. But that didn't make the next two days any easier for me. As the minutes dragged by I felt the weight of guilt and fear become heavier and heavier. It was not made any easier by Erik who, in spite of everything, clearly no longer trusted me. I would catch him watching me, and knew he was looking for something… suspicious of me. It made me want to cry, but I didn't dare. I came to realise, with more than a little resentment, that Erik had changed me. Weeks ago, I would not have stood for this. I would not have listened to Erik blithely declare that I belonged to him as if I were merely an object to be possessed. The old me would have condemned such an arrogant assertion. But this new me, this cowering child that I had become, hardly dared challenge aloud even the smallest of things. Even my gentle teasing had ceased. I was becoming a mindless doll, bending to his will out of fear, and a spark of anger and, I dare say, hatred, lit up in me. I wanted to love Erik… I truly did. But he made it impossible. For Christ's sake… he never even said 'sorry'. That at least would have given me something to cling to. In no way did I wish to become one of those women who, in an abusive relationship, didn't end it because they believed their partner when they said 'I'm sorry'. But personally I would have welcomed even some small show of regret, no matter how temporary. In fact, it was far more terrifying to think that Erik actually believed he had done nothing wrong in responding the way he had.

I couldn't get my head round it all. Down here I was far to scared to think properly.

I had to get out.

The two days, which usually wouldn't have seemed like such a long time, felt like weeks to me under Erik's suspicious gaze. I felt like a prisoner, and as such, thought of little else but escape. In the meantime, however, I was forced to play the part of dutiful 'wife', as I now seemed to be. The ring on my finger was a constant reminder of my situation, and I knew it would continue to haunt me even when I was out of this place. And Erik never let me forget its significance. He would take my left hand in his and look from me to the ring, then bring me close and kiss me. I had to force myself to feel passion, but it was so artificial I began to hate these intimate moments.

Even music couldn't bring us together. Erik spent so much time playing, but everything was a reflection of the atmosphere around us. The chords he played were haunting… sending chills up my spine that were nothing like the pleasurable sensations I had felt previously. But I had to listen… and I sang for him only to take myself out of this place and imagine I was elsewhere

On the final night before I returned home, I nearly cracked under the pressure of keeping up the pretence. The previous night I had slept in Erik's bed, but he had not tried to make love to me. But he seemed aware that that night would be the last opportunity for a long time, and he brought me into his arms. He was gentle, but I could feel something lurking behind his tenderness that made me afraid to refuse him, but even more afraid to let him go on. Tensed up and trembling, I nearly burst into sobs at his touch, and the moment he reached up and felt the tears on my cheeks he drew away and, in the darkness, turned his back on me. I continued to cry quietly, knowing that I was only further destroying his trust in me, if any yet remained.

The time for me to return finally came, and as Erik led me up I had to conceal my relief. Perhaps some time apart from him would do something… help us both get over things. In all honesty, I was just glad that Erik had decided to bring me back at all. I didn't kid myself with the illusion that he might trust me enough to let me go free. I knew he was only doing this because he had to. I couldn't just disappear off the face of the earth with no explanation. People would look for me… there would be 'interference'.

We were silent on the way up, and only at the entrance to his home did we stop and exchange a few words.

"You will be returning to England tomorrow," Erik said as is clarifying the fact. His voice was flat, like an automated voice. Devoid of almost all emotion.

"Yes," I replied, in a similar monotone.

"I will follow you soon."

"Okay."

This was what my captivity had brought me to… hardly daring more than a one word answer. God, I hated this. I hated the way we were. It made me want to run away to some far corner of the world where I could forget about this whole mess… away from my guilt and Erik's soul-destroying mistrust.

It was all I could do not to flinch when Erik raised his hand and stroked his fingers against my cheek. But I kept my gaze steady on his, secretly dreading this goodbye for so many reasons.

"I love you," he said softly. "You do know that, don't you?"

For a second, one split second, I thought I detected a hint of something unfamiliar in his voice… a break in his recent hard and cold exterior. Some hopeful display of pained sorrow and regret. But the moment didn't last long before those grey eyes hardened once again, steeling up against any further emotional hurt. My heart sank even further as I realised how deeply I had hurt him… was still hurting him.

I opened my mouth to reply, but my voice stuck in my throat and I almost choked. No… I couldn't cry… I couldn't…

Desperate to hide this breakdown to some degree, I pressed myself against Erik tightly, my face buried in his chest. My entire body was shaking terribly.

"I love you," I murmured against Erik's chest, as if I could speak to the real him that was now buried somewhere deep inside, under all that anger and hatred. I prayed that he would hear me, and believe me. Because I did still love him…in spite of everything. The memory of who he had been before I removed his mask was still vivid, and that was all I clung to now amidst all my fear.

We said goodbye, and the sound of the stone passageway closing up had never sounded so ominous. But I didn't break down in tears straight away… I couldn't risk that Erik might be listening on the other side of the wall. I dragged myself up to my room, collapsed on my bed, and sobbed so loudly the whole neighbourhood must have heard me. I didn't care though… I need to cry now, if only to get this wretched feeling out of my system to some extent. I couldn't let my family see me this way… for all our sakes. Because with this change in Erik I felt the return of an old fear. It was not only my life I had to be scared for now.

In another hour my father and Paula returned. They had picked Joseph up on the way, so we were all back together under one roof. But I felt none the better for it.

I had to be careful though. From the Monday morning to the Tuesday I had to hide things from my parents. My sombre mood I was able to pass off as not wanting to leave and go back to school. My jumpiness was more difficult… but I just laughed off any comments about it. Worst, however, was having to conceal the marks Erik had placed on me with his anger. My neck had very obvious red marks, that I had to hide under a polo-neck top… my body was sore and bruised in several places and, of course, I now had a rather distinct piece of jewellery on my hand. The only reason I kept it on was because Erik would notice… and I would rather face my father finding out it was there than Erik finding out it was gone.

I made it through the final day, hiding in my room most of the time, packing. Erik didn't appear, but I knew he was nearby. Whether I actually wanted to see him right now I wasn't sure. I wouldn't know how to deal with it… just like I didn't know how to deal with the idea of returning to school, leaving my family behind again with this threat hanging over us all. There was a horrible sense of deja-vu around this whole situation… only this time things were so much worse.

I sat on the plane, picturing the faces of the people I cared about, and bit the back of my knuckles to stop myself from crying.

And I prayed that our most recent goodbye would not be the last.