Author´s note: This chapter contains a couple of things that are a little... bizarre, especially the second part written in italics. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip that one. And If you do read all of it: I´d love to have some interpretations of the dreams. I think it´s most interesting how different people see it.

14) Once upon a dream

Meg smiled contentedly. Finally she was with Erik again. She was lying on the bed that had once belonged to Christine. The dark red sheets and covers were a striking contrast to her fair skin, which was illuminated by the light of dozens of candles. He looked down at her lovingly. Seeing his bare chest she licked her lips in anticipation, imagining running her tongue over the flawless flesh.

Erik leaned down, and their mouths melted in a passionate kiss. The candles, the soft bed – everything was prefect, ideal for the two of them. Meg felt heady with the atmosphere. Soon the kiss grew more heated, and she wrapped her arms around him to pull him closer. In the same second she knew it had been a terrible mistake. She had no idea why she knew it; she simply did.

"Who has given you permission to touch me with your filthy little hands?", he asked in a thunderous voice. A moment later he had seized her hands and held them over her head. His chest was pressing against hers uncomfortably. She felt as if his weight was about to suffocate her, just like she had felt when he had tried to force himself on her that one night. "Erik, please… you´re hurting me.", she whispered, terrified.

"But I´m only doing what I told you. Don´t you remember? I told you that I had plans for us once we´re in the coach." He snapped his fingers, and the entire room turned into a coach. And Erik… Meg didn´t need to look up to know it was no longer Erik. During his last words his voice had become slightly higher and the colour of his hair had changed from dark into blond. Pierre Devoiraux was staring at her with his lustful gaze, pinning her onto the seat.

"I haven´t even said I liked you!", Meg cried. Pierre merely grinned. "And you think that´s necessary for doing these things? Erik didn´t say he liked you either before tearing your clothes and throwing you onto the sofa…" The girl was twisting madly, but even though he was no longer holding her, she couldn´t move. She was completely at his mercy.

Meg woke up with a start. Her chest was heaving and falling rapidly. As she reached for the glass of water on her bedside table, not bothering to light a candle, she could almost feel strong masculine hands around her wrists. What a dreadful nightmare! She took a long gulp, then put the glass back onto the table. The girl placed her head on the pillow again and tried to empty her mind of all negative thoughts. This was a method that usually worked very well for her, and it also worked now. After a little while her breathing returned to its normal speed, and she drifted back to sleep.

"It´s a wonderful place, isn´t it?", Erik remarked, lifting his glass of red wine to his lips. "Well, it´s nice because you´ve invited me.", Meg replied. "The last time I´ve been here with Pierre, and I wouldn´t say I liked it very much. But now…" She let her gaze wander around in the restaurant. "Why are there no other people, Erik?" "We don´t need anyone else.", he answered. "You have to get used to the solitude."

Smiling gently Meg observed: "They´ve changed the decoration. Last time the roses were white, and now they´re red… except this one.". Carefully she singled out one of the flowers and handed it to him. "They all used to be like this once.", Erik whispered. "White, pure, innocent. I had to dye them myself." He held the rose to his chest. Meg gasped in shock as she noticed that each and every cut had burst open and was shining with fresh blood. Suddenly Christine´s voice sounded through the room: "I tried sewing them, but it was impossible. They keep re-opening, all by themselves.".

As soon as the petals touched one of the cuts the rose turned dark red. "Do you know who this rose is?", he asked conversationally, placing the flower in a new vase. "It´s you, Meg Giry. My blood tainted your innocence, making you impure. You should have been glad that a man like Pierre wanted you. But you were too foolish to appreciate it. Now you´re stuck with me. And I have to warn you: Some wounds never close. See?" He pointed at his chest, and all cuts started bleeding simultaneously.

"It wasn´t me who did this to you!", Meg called. "Of course it was you.", he said matter-of-factly. The girl felt something cold on her palm and realised that her hand was clenched into a fist around a razor. She lifted her arm. A small steady trickle of blood ran down it when she squeezed her hand more tightly. "How friendly of you to help me.", Erik remarked. "There is still so much to do." His hands vanished under the table for a second, and as they re-appeared they carried a gigantic bouquet of white roses.

"You made me what I am now, Meg, so it´s only logical that you have to stay with me and work to repay me.", he said calmly, picking up one of the flowers. "I´m sorry.", Meg muttered. "I didn´t mean to… I´m sorry…I´m-"

Meg´s eyes snapped open. She was so relieved about waking up that she could have cried. This time she lit a candle at once. The darkness was oppressive. Briefly she thought about going to her mother, but decided against it. She was no longer a child; she had to deal with this kind of problem on her own. So she sat there, shaking from head to toe. She had wrapped her arms around her knees and was rocking back and forth. "They´re just dreams… just dreams…", she muttered under her breath, waiting for the night to end.