Chapter Three

I felt awkward wearing someone else's clothing no matter how beautiful it was. It wasn't like I had any other choice. So far I had no idea how I got here and how I would get back to my time, to my own life. At least I knew I was Madeleine, Erik's mother, and my best friend Mlle. Marie Perrault was waiting fro me downstairs. I had no account of what had happened yesterday and how I was supposed to react today.

Carefully I walked down the carpeted stairs into a furnished living room and I could tell Madeleine had great taste. I looked up to see Marie huddled in a corner by the windowsill. It reminded me of how Madeline once saw her in their boarding school, when she was an outcast and Madeleine had taken her in. Now as I gazed at her bent over body I felt a rush of warmth, but when Marie turned around I saw none of that in her eyes.

Her eyes were bloodshot and filled with anger and... pity. "What happened Marie?" I asked as innocently as I could because I really had no idea what had happened.

"You know perfectly well what happened!" she snarled. I slowly backed away in fear. "Erik's birthday was a disaster and he had cuts running through his hands that will scar him for life and all you could do was cause it."

Oh god no! I knew what she was talking about. I read this passage in the book so many times, it wasn't even funny. It was birthday, well obviously she just that but anyway, and it was the first time Erik had ever seen how he looked without the mask. He had smashed the mirror with his hands…. Now I realized the mirror in my room was new.. it was bought just today. How could I live with this now? Why did I have to come into the picture where I was hated so much?

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I watched as Marie walked down the driveway and around the bend. I turned to close the door to face another problem… Erik…

I walked over to the stove and continued to make a breakfast for myself careful to watch Erik in the corners of my eyes. He sensed I was watching him, I could tell, but he showed no care.

I was about to turn away to make a French toast when I saw Erik's spoon clatter to the ground. Obviously his hands were bandaged because of the glass that shred it the night before. I left the stove and rushed over to him and bent down on my knees as he sat on his chair looking at me with a cold look.

"Let me help you." I managed to say without a choked voice. I saw him hesitate before he allowed me to spoon-fed him. Did he really hate me that much…

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I sighed in relaxation and in approval as I listened to Erik play. Although his hands were bandaged he was stubborn and fought his way to the piano. He was injured but his music never faltered. I knew even from the first time I read the book and as I heard him ply now, how much music meant to him. It was the most beautiful and powerful thing he possessed.

I knew how much in the future how much the Opera House meant to him. How much hearing Christine's voice combined in his music, meant to him. And I knew I couldn't take it away no matter how much Madeleine previously tried to prevent him from doing anything involving music, I had to. Music was his life as he was mine……