Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the Phantom of the Opera, and owe all credit to Gaston Leroux. Certain elements of the story have also been borrowed from Susan Kay's The Phantom as well as Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical.
Also, I just wanted to give out a thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review my story. This chapter is in the 3rd person, and I wanted to put it in to give a little insight into Erik's thoughts and it just seemed the best way to do it. Anyways, thanks again and I'll do my best to make this story worth reading!
Erik sat down quietly at the end of the sofa, holding his head in his hands. Briefly, he peered through his hands to look down on the woman who lay before him.
Her skin was cold to the touch, and had been quite pale ever since he had pulled her from the water. The rosy hue he had remembered gracing her lovely cheeks had completely faded, and even her lips were barely able to hold onto a shade of pink. The only hint of life in her at all was the subtle rise and fall of her chest.
Still, Erik was not able to stop himself from practically gaping over the angel he had lost.
Only Christine could stand between the blurred lines of life and death and retain this beauty, Erik thought solemnly to himself.
He ran his fingers over his own face, tracing the marks of his deformity. It served as a short and painful reminder that such splendor was out of his grasp.
Ashamed at the prospect of being seen without his mask, he swiftly carried himself to his room where it lay on his dresser. He fixed the cool porcelain onto his face, reveling in the confidence it bestowed in him.
He walked back into the main room, where Christine still lay silently sprawled across his sofa.
Disgust swept through him as he realized this "angel" had willingly forfeited herself as the property of his rival.
He had given her a love so potent that it held the power to torment his very soul, yet she had fallen into the arms of another. Perhaps she was not the confused innocent as he had always thought, or the naïve victim of a childhood infatuation.
It was quite possible that even if Christine had not understood the affect she had on Erik, she certainly was able to recognize the power it gave her. Through him, she was able to obtain a degree of talent, fame, and support that she could have never managed on her own.
In return, she gave him her limited affections, never bothering to cover up the underlying tones of pity that lay at their root. He had become a charity in her eyes, although she was careful to give only what she needed to keep him under her control.
Erik glared down at Christine, grinding his fingernails into his palm as a new hatred stirred within him.
He was not sure why she had returned, but he would not allow himself to fall victim to this siren's desires again. This time around he would prove himself as the master of the situation, and Christine would soon regret her decision of returning to toy with the Phantom of the Opera.