Holy Weasel Muffins! I got reviews! Ahhh! Thank you so much to everyone who was kind enough to review, and to all those who read my story and didn't...I love you all! And thanks for the condolences...you guys have no idea how much it means...So yeah...been going nuts over here, pulling my hair out to make this chapter explosive...I'm not sure it it worked...hopefully it did. Man..yeah..totally babbling. But I am drugged up on cold medicine...that's right...the dreaded cold bug got me...it's horrible. But hey...could be worse...I could not have any Gerard movies to watch...Speaking of...I rented Reign of Fire the other night and got to watch it today...ahhh! Talk about thick Scottish accent and just plain old hott! I suggest all you Gerry fans watch it...but pack tissues...Well...here's the next chapter...enjoy!
0000000
A Thrill of Hope
Chapter Four
"The Competition"
Christine awoke the next morning, her mind full of thoughts of her midnight encounter with the strange pianist...Erik. For some reason she just couldn't get him out of her mind. How had he known about her? That she sang? Who exactly was he?
Thoughts such as these plagued her mind as she went through her day. Why couldn't she stop thinking about the masked musician with the velvety voice and hands that could create music like she'd only heard once in her life? Why did he hide behind the black leather? Was he scarred? Burned? Could he be hiding from someone? Did he never want someone to know him? He had said he enjoyed being alone...Was he a robber? Or was he--
"Miss Daae!"
Christine looked up at the mention of her name and her eyes met the impatient gaze of her vocal professor. Professor Reyer stood before his podium, fingers tapping its surface rapidly. He was a short man, well into his years of life, his thinning hair on each side of his head sticking out like Albert Einstien. It was peppered with specks of gray, as was his thin mustache. His designer suit hung from his thin frame.
"Yes, Professor Reyer," Christine asked.
"Miss Daae, you are Rochelle, and your aria is up. Would you please grace us with a song or would you prefer to merely sit and dream?"
Christine shook her head and climbed to her feet, ignoring the few snickers from the back of the room. She walked to the small platform that stood before Professor Reyer and turned to face him, hands clasped nervously in front of her.
"From the beginning of the aria then, madameselle," Reyer said, raising his hands to signal the pianist at his side. At Christine's nod, he lowered them, and the music filled the room.
At the first note, Christine pictured her father's face in her mind's eye and let the music lead her voice to him.
In this world you'll have trouble
But I seem to be missing it all...
As her aria went on, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and a chill ran down her spine. What was that...that feeling? It felt as if someone was looking straight into her soul...deep into the dark places of her being that no one had ventured into but her...who was watching her? Who studied her so intently? Thoughts running crazily through her head, she stumbled in the chorus. Quickly she righted herself, pushing the feeling and thoughts aside even as she felt the blush creep to her cheeks. Keep your mind on the song, Chris...
She sighed in relief when the music ended and Reyer gently clapped his hands. "Bravo, mam'selle, bravo. Lovely as always...though I would practice more towards the last chorus...wouldn't want a slight slip-up like that on opening night, my dear," the old man said with an affectionate smile. Christine smiled and nodded to him before stepping off the podium. "Well, that concludes rehearsals for today...enjoy your night, and do be careful, all of you."
Mindless chatter and the scraping of chairs on linoleum filled the room soon after. As she walked to her seat to gather her bag, Christine's eyes searched the large auditorium out, searching for anyone who was not usually in attendance; anyone who could have brought that feeling out in her. A flash of movement caught her eye, and her gaze traveled to one of the balconey seats in the back of the room just in time to see a flurry of black quickly disappear behind the curtain. She sqiunted. What in the world...
"Christine!"
She jumped at the exclamation of her name and the gentle hand on her shoulder. She whirled around to see the bright face of Meg Giry. She sighed, bringing a hand to her chest and smiling. "Meg...you scared the life out of me. Where did you come from?"
The blonde haired ballet dancer grinned. "Dance class with Maman...that's why I'm sweating like a pig...Christine, what is it? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
Her friend's words struck a chord, and suddenly Christine remembered when else she had had that feeling. Last night...with Erik...he stared at me as if he could see straight into my soul...but...why would he sneak in here to hear me sing... "Uh...it's nothing, Meg...still just a bit startled is all."
"OH...I'm sorry, Chris...I didn't realize you were so out there." Her eyes traveled to the back of the room, and a grin appeared on her face. "Carlotta is scowling at you again."
Christine returned the grin quickly and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was the big haired prima donna with her group of lapdogs in the corner, that so familiar scowl on her too tanned face. Carlotta Guidicelli had been giving Christine this kind of treatment since she arrived: cold shoulder, murderous glances, evil scowls. Meg had told her that before she had come, Carlotta had reigned in the vocal major--yet how with her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice was beyond anyone. Honestly, Christine had had no original problem with Carlotta. But soon after truly seeing her personality and manners, she quickly grew to dislike the girl.
She turned back to Meg and giggled. "Too bad her face doesn't stick that way," Meg said. "It would be an improvement."
Christine smiled and let her mouth fall open. Smacking her friend across the arm, she laughed. "Meg, that was cruel!"
"You know it's true, Chris," the blonde replied, watching as Carlotta and her "friends"--if you could even call them that--herded out of the auditorium. "She's been cold as ice since we got here...I mean, she was mean when I was here before, but since you came and stole the lead role right from under her nose, she's turned into Cybil Shepard!" Both girls laughed as they left the auditorium, Christine glancing over her shoulder, up into the that balconey seat...
00000000
Erik stared at Christine's retreating back, trying to push down the feeling of despair that she was no longer in the same room with him. What was the matter with him? Never before had he ever had feelings of this nature for someone...not since Luciana...
His heart clenched at the thought of Luciana, and he shook his head slightly, ridding his mind of it.
He looked once again to the now empty doorway of the auditorium. Christine...
Her voice still echoed in his ears; her face, so full of passion, was burned into his mind's eye.
He'd snuck into the auditorium once again to watch the brown haired angel sing. He watched as she sat unmoving in her chair, eyes glazed over as she was deep in thought...what had occupied her mind so? His heart had raged in anger at the cluster of girls in the back who snickered at her distraction, yet it had quickly dissipated when she rose to her feet and stood upon the podium. As the music began, he leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the girl before him. Her voice surrounded him; filled his very being. It was perfect...the melody, the pitch, the volume...the only thing lacking was the emotion. Oh, Christine...why do you try so hard? Don't you know that emotion can only come naturally? You can't force passion into your voice...
Her eyes had traveled around the room as she sang, searching for something. He slid deeper into the darkness, avoiding her eyes at any cost. She faltered in the chorus, and he felt a smile creep across his face. She knew he was here...or at leastsomeone was here. She caught herself quickly, averting her eyes and concentrating on the music. Eric had chuckled softly. Never allow yourself to get distracted, Christine...
Her aria ended, and the class dispersed. She dawdled at her seat, eyes still searching the room, and he started when they reached the balconey. He quickly raced from her line of vision, hissing in anger at having been so close to being caught. He waited several moments before glancing back to the door...she had disappeared...
So now here he stood, staring at the empty auditorium where the vision of beauty had stood only moments before. Christine Daae...has an angel truly been sent here...
Ring.
Erik started, then caught himself when he realized the sound that had echoed was the ringing of his cell phone. Sighing, he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the small black phone. Glancing at the caller ID, his heart stopped.
Giry.
Antoinette only called him for one thing...But it wasn't possible...Katie Kelly been killed only days ago...He shut his eyes in dread as he raised the phone to his ear. "Yes?"
"Erik...there's been another one," Antoinette's monotone voice replied.
He sighed. "He's breaking the routine." It wasn't a question.
"No, Erik," she said. "He's not." Erik's eyes searched the room, waiting for her to continue. She only sighed in the silence. "Perhaps you should come to the weightroom and see for yourself."
000000
"Have you heard about the family giving the grant to the school?"
Christine glanced at Meg as they walked to the dorms. "I heard a mention of it. Why are they doing it again?"
The blonde shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Maman only said that they are interested in the Arts. Big fans of dancing and stuff like that. They heard that our school had a great Arts program and came to see a couple performances. I guess they were impressed. They met with the dean and everything. They're supposed to be here today, I think, checking out the campus and stuff." She grinned over at her friend. "I hear they've got two sons..."
Christine glared at her friend. "Meg...don't start."
Meg held out her hands. "What? I'm just saying...you haven't even showed interest in anybody since you got back. I don't who the guy was that broke your heart in England, Chris, but...come on...you've gotta get back in the game sometime. What are you going to do? Become a nun?" Christine only looked at the ground and continued walking. "Christine! Tell me you aren't considering becoming a nun!"
Christine laughed and looked up at her friend. "No, Meg, of course not. Life without a wardrobe? That's a fate worse than death." Meg sighed in relief and gently smacked her friend. "It's just...hard, Meg. Growing up with my aunt meant strick living conditions. You lived next door. You know. She believed dating would only lead to premartial relations and the last thing she wanted was 'a little hellion running around her house.'" She sighed. "I never got to date, and no one wanted to date me...I was the weird orphan with the psychotic aunt who was paranoid about everything that moved. I wasn't like you, Meg...I didn't have boys knocking down my door." She looked over at the blonde. "And then I went to England for school...and no one knew me. No one thought I was weird because of Aunt Josephine. Raoul was the first guy to ever pay attention to me in a more than friendly way. And...when he told me that he didn't see a future for us...it was like throwing me back into the past." Her eyes once more dropped to the ground. "It's just hard imagining opening up to someone else."
Meg watched Christine with a heartbreaking expression. She had forgotten how hard it had been for Christine growing up...and it was true. She had never had any trouble in the relationship area. Who was she to tell her best friend when to move on? "Oh, Chrissy...I feel lousy now."
Christine grinned. "Don't, Meggers. It's no big deal. I know that I have to move on sooner or later. You're just being a friend...don't beat yourself up." Sighing, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "Raoul de Chagny is just a hard act to forget."
Meg stopped in her tracks, eyes wide as her memory clicked. Raoul de Chagny...de Chagny...why didn't that register before?
Christine stopped and turned around, concern etched on her face. "Meg? Are you okay?"
The blonde ballet dancer shook herself out of her reverie, plastering a smile on her face. "Uh...yeah. I'm fine, Christine. Just...uh...just remembering something Maman asked me to do later. It slipped my mind completely."
Christine smiled. "Well, it's a good thing you remembered, then. You mom would kill you if you forgot to do something." A commotion behind them caused her to turn, and she watched as the Dean of the school and the head of the administrative board spoke ferventaly to a group of people behind them. "Hey...is that the family that's giving the grant?"
Meg looked where Christine pointed, and once more her eyes widened. "Uh...yeah. It is."
"Well, should we go and say hi? Being in the arts program and everything?"
"Um...I guess." Christine turned to go, and Meg's hand shot out, grasping her friend's wrist. "Christine! Wait...uh...I have to tell you something." Her brown haired friend stopped and stared at her, waiting. "The, um...the family that's giving the grant..."
She nodded. "Yeah?"
Meg swallowed hard, twirling a strand of blonde hair between her fingers. "Chris...the family...it's the de Chagny family."
0000000
"And if you look this way, you will see our art studio, where the works of our painters and sculpers are kept. I don't believe a class is in progress at the moment, so we would be more than happy to show you inside," Dean LeFevre said, smiling as he motioned to the large building on the right. "Our art students are the next greatest artists of the world, I must say. Some of them could very well rival Picasso."
Phillip de Chagny smiled. "I would like to see that."
"Of course, Monsier," LeFevre said. "Andre...if you would please?" He said to his companion. "I do believe that the doors are kept locked when class is not in session." He held out a ring of keys, and Monsier Andre took them in an instant. The man hurried to unlock the doors, leaving LeFevre to his guests. "I must admit, Monsier...the arrival of you and your family here could not have come at a better time."
Richard de Chagny smiled. "Really? And why is that," he asked, wrapping his arm around his wife's waist.
"Well, I'm afraid our last grant ran out quite faster than what we expected. And what with the new students we recieve constantly with talents beyond comparison...it was only a matter of time before we would have had to turn some away."
Elaina de Chagny smiled softly. "Well...I believe that will not happen now. I have been rather impressed with what I have seen so far, and I do believe my husband and sons share the same enthusiasm. Philip has always loved art, and Raoul always found dancing quite enjoyable."
Philip smirked as he leaned next to his brother. "But, perhaps, not as enjoyable as some dancers." He dodged his brother's punch to the arm, and they both straightened before they caught attention.
LeFevre grinned and looked at Raoul. "Oh, then you will be glad to know that our dancing department is exceptional! Madame Giry is a splendid teacher, and her own daughter is quickly rising in her talent. I will be sure to introduce you to them." He glanced over his shoulder and his smile grew. "Well, speak of the devil! If it isn't young Meg Giry herself. And one of our newest talents as well!" He led them over to where two girls stood close to each other, whispering frantically. "Marguirite?" The girls jumped apart at the dean's voice, and he smiled. "My dear patrons, may I introduce Marguirite Giry, our finest dancer here, and Christine Daae, our new vocalist extraordinair."
"Christine?"
LeFevre turned at the sound of the youngest son's voice. "You know Miss Daae?"
Raoul de Chagny looked between the old man and the young brunette who stood before him. My, God...can this girl get any prettier?
"Why, Christine! This is quite the surprise," Elaina exclaimed. She turned to LeFevre and smiled. "Monsier LeFevre, we knew Christine when she still attended school in England. We weren't aware she had transferred here."
"Ah, of course," LeFevre remarked. "I had nearly forgotten...yes, we nabbed young Christine the moment we heard her sing."
Throughout the entire exchange, Christine had stood rooted to her spot, heart beat thundering in her ears. Her knees shook and her palms were soaked in sweat. Raoul...why on earth did it have to be Raoul? Out of all the rich families in the world, the de Chagny's had to be the grant givers...and now he stood before her, eyes boring into hers, and she felt as if she was once more in the cafe in England, listening as the man before her broke her heart.
"Her voice always was exceptional," Richard proclaimed, smiling at Christine from under his mustache. "Always knocked our socks off when she sang."
"She still has that effect, Monsier," Andre announced as he appeared beside them, keys in hand. "Everyone is looking forward to her opening night next month."
Richard once more smiled. "We will have to be sure to catch that performance then."
Christine smiled uncertainly at him, wanting to be anywhere but there--with Raoul. Oh, please let a hole open up under my feet..., she thought miserably. Avoiding Raoul's gaze was proving to be harder with each passing moment.
"We will be sure to reserve seats for you," LeFevre announced. "Now...if you would please follow me, I will show you the--"
"Before we get on to that, Dean, I have been meaning to talk with you about the unfortunate murders that have taken place on your campus," Richard stated.
The dean was caught off guard, and he stumbled on his words as he replied. "The, uh...murders. Of course, Monsier de Chagny...I was waiting for that to come up. However...I don't believe discussing the details and progress of the investigation in front of these girls is such a good idea."
"OH, that's no problem, Dean LeFevre," Meg's high pitched voice answered. "Christine and I were just returning to our dorms anyway...We should just...ya know...keep on going. Uh...it was an honor to meet you," she said, smiling at the de Changy's. They returned her smile as she gripped Christine's hand and pulled her away. "Oh, God, Chris, I'm so sorry!"
"Why didn't you tell me that it was Raoul's family, Meg," Christine asked harshly.
Meg winced. "Chris, I am so sorry. It never registered with me until you mentioned Raoul's last name again...if it had, I would have told you so much sooner. I didn't expect them to actually confront us." She looked over at her friend's weary face. "Are you okay?"
Before she could reply, Christine felt a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around only to look up into the face of Raoul de Chagny. "Raoul," she said softly.
"Christine...," he replied. He looked over at Meg. "Miss Giry? It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Raoul de Chagny...we didn't get a chance back there." He held out his hand and Meg took it hesitantly. "Chris has talked about you before. It's nice to finally put a name with the face." He looked over at Christine once more. "Christine...uh...could we talk for a minute?"
"I...I really have to get back, Raoul."
"Yeah..I know. It will only take a sec. Please?"
Christine looked over at Meg and saw her friend's questioning expression: Want me to help get you outta this? She sighed and said, "Meg...I'll meet you at the dorm." Meg glanced at Raoul before nodding to Christine. She waved her hand in farewell and turned on her heel, walking up the path towards the dorms. Christine turned once more to Raoul, pushing a large strand of curls behind her ears.
"It's good to see you again, Chris," he said softly. She looked up at him. "And I guess the feeling is one-sided."
"It is."
He laughed. "Okay...well, that was certainly subtle...but, I suppose I deserve that, huh?" When she said nothing, he sighed. "Look, Chris...about the last time we saw each other..."
"I really don't think we need to talk about this, Raoul...what's done is done, right?" She kept her gaze on the ground, knowing that she would be ruined if she met his eyes.
"Christine...I know I was horrible to you in England, and I'm sorry for that. I was a jerk."
"That's an understatement," Christine muttered.
"Once again...I deserve that. But...I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for a year and a half. Chris...I'd...I'd really like a second chance." He watched as she met his eyes for the first time, and saw the hesitation in them. "Look, why don't we just have coffee or something. Just as friends, nothing more. We'll just catch up. Honest...I just want to hang out with you again. Please?"
Christine searched his face, looking for any signs that he might be using a line or pulling her chain. She saw nothing. She sighed, looking away and into the crowd of students. Her head told her to forget it, move on and don't look back. Her heart told her to give it a shot; could he hurt her worse? I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place now, she thought. She looked back at him.
"Please, Christine...as friends. Nothing more."
She sighed. "I guess coffee will be alright...but just as friends, Raoul."
Raoul smiled brightly. "That's all I'm asking, Chris. Do you have a way for me to get a hold of you?"
"Um...why not just meet tomorrow at the Java hut here on campus?" At his look, she shrugged. "It's too soon for that, Raoul. Let's just get through coffee."
Raoul nodded. "Fair enough, Christine. I'll see you tomorrow...Noonish?" At her nod, he smiled. "Alright...see you then." He paused. "It was good to see you again." Christine nodded and watched his retreating back. Sighing, she tightened her grip on her bag's handle and turned around. What have I gotten myself into? Running a hand through her curly hair, she walked up the path towards her dorm, thoughts of what had just happened running around in her head.
She was jerked out of her thoughts, however, when she came to a large crowd gathered around the weightroom. Curiosity peaked, she wandered over to the crowd, attempting to peer over the many heads, but failing miserably. Turning to a redheaded girl beside her, she asked, "What's going on?"
The redhead turned towards her, and Christine recognized her as a girl from her dance class. "They found the body of Johnny Long in the weightroom this morning." Christine looked at her in shock. "He was like, strangled with a weight cord or something. I don't know. They're saying it might have been the freak who's been killing girls around here."
"Oh my God...," Christine murmured. She watched as four uniformed policemen ran into the building, walkie-talkies squaking loudly in incoherent phrases. "Poor Johnny..."
An officer walked out of the building, face grave as he turned to face the crowd. "Folks! I'm going to have to ask you to disperse immediately so our crime scene investigators can work in peace. I advise you all to please return to your dorms or head off immediately to your classes. Please, folks...nothing to see here."
The crowd murmured loudly as they all departed, the rumors circulating already. Christine turned to leave, and did a double take as her eyes fell on a departing figure. "Erik," she yelled, increasing her pace to catch up with the masked man from the night before. "Erik, hey! Wait up!"
Erik pretended to ignore the voice that called to him, wanting to avoid the confrontation altogether. He cursed inwardly when he felt dainty fingers grap his elbow. He turned around to look down into the angelic face of Christine. "Christine," he said in greeting, shaking free of her grasp and continuing on his way. Her light footsteps followed his, and he cursed once again.
"Erik...what are you doing here? I mean...you said you like privacy. A crowded campus in the middle of the day isn't exactly private," Christine said. "Did you hear about what happened?"
"It's hard not to hear about it, Christine," he replied shortly.
"Hey...ya know...this is probably a stupid question, but...um...were you by any chance in the auditorium today? In a balconey," she asked nervously, regretting the words the minute they were said.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well...I don't know. I just...I thought I saw someone and...," she trailed off. And what? You don't even know if anyone was in the balcony. It could have been your eyes playing tricks on you.
At her side, Erik smirked. "It was me, Christine." She looked at him. "I was curious as to your talent. I wanted to see for myself."
She smiled, pleased that she could arouse his curiousity so much. "And?"
"And I've heard better."
She snapped her gaze to him, shocked. "Excuse me?"
"I don't believe I need to repeat myself, Miss Daae," he replied.
She walked faster to keep up with him. "Well, then don't. Just elaborate. What did you mean 'you heard better'? Was I really that bad?"
Erik stopped and turned to her, surprised that she could be so insulted by a simple reply. Then again, she does try so hard...Perhaps it was wrong to speak my mind. "You were perfect, Christine. Perfect pitch, volume, perfect everything." She stared at up him, her eyes urging him to continue. "It's the emotion in your voice, Christine," he said softly. "There isn't any."
"Wh...what?"
"You almost seem to try too hard...emotion cannot be forced, Christine. It has to come from within."
She was silent a long moment before she looked up at him once more. "You sing too, huh?" He stared. "I'm not surprised...a lot of poeple who play intruments so well sing too." She looked down at her shoes, an idea forming in her head. Would it be stupid to ask, she thought. I mean...I only met the guy last night...but...it never hurts to try. "Would you teach me then?"
Erik looked down at her, confusion etched on his face. "What?"
She blushed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "You know...tutor me. Help me to get more emotion...teach me to harness it." When he remained silent, she continued. "It would mean a lot...and I can tell that you know what you're talking about. Please?"
His face was expressionless as he replied. "I appreciate the thought, Miss Daae. But no." He turned to leave, but felt those fingers on his elbow again.
"Please? I'll pay you," she said desperatley.
"NO, Miss Daae. Now let go." He jerked his arm out of her grasp and walked away quickly.
Christine stared at his retreating back, hurt written evidently on her face. Why had he turned her down so completely? He said it herself--she had talent. Why--if he was so good to point it out--did he not want to help her improve it? Sighing in defeat, she turned to leave, then gasped as she ran head on into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, looking up into the man's face.
The man smiled down at her, reaching down to pick up the book she dropped and handing it back to her. "No problem. You looked distracted. It happens," he said smoothly. "Is everything okay? You look a little upset."
A chill ran down her spine as he smiled down at her, and she gripped her bag closer to her shoulder. "Uh...yeah...everything's fine...thanks." She took the book from him and clutched it to her chest. "Um...I really have to go...sorry again." She quickly manuevered around him, glancing over her shoulder as she walked away. What was up with that?
000000
Joel smiled as he watched Christine Daae leave. He had unnerved her. It was obvious to see. His eyes traveled to her backside as she hurried up the path towards the dorm.
That was fine...it only made the hunt more enjoyable...
000000
Erik silently made his way to his apartment below the music building, thoughts of Christine and the most recent murder in his head. Why had the boy been killed? It certainly didn't follow the cycle the killer had been using...all victims had been female, and all had been killed a month after the previous one...what had made him add Johnny Long to the victim's list? Suddenly, Erik stopped dead in his tracks as he reached his door.
Detective Richard Firmin leaned against the wall, one leg crossed behind the other, carefully inspecting his thumbnail. He looked up when Erik stopped, and a smirk graced his face. "Hello, Erik."
Erik stared at the man he had not seen in years, shocked to see him actually leaning by his door.
"I didn't feel right entering your room without you here," Firmin said. "I figured I'd wait for you to get here."
"And how would you have gotten in in the first place, Richard," Erik finally asked.
The detective smiled. "I have ways, Erik, just as you do." He straightened to his full height. "It's been quite some time. You really haven't changed much since the last time I saw you." Erik was silent as he approached, stopping at his door.
"What do you want," he demanded.
"Your help," Richard replied. "I can only assume you know about the murders. And on that assumption, I know that you are attempting to find the killer yourself." He took the other man's silence as an answer. "So, I am here to offer a partnership. Help me, and I can certainly help you."
Erik stared at him. "I work alone, Richard." He turned to enter his room.
"We worked together before, Erik...It may have been only to return a favor, but we worked together all the same."
Erik halted, his eyes glancing at the man from beneath the mask.
"I know you want to catch this guy as much as I do...two heads are better than one. What do you say?"
Erik stared at him, and Richard felt optimistic. His hope was dashed, however, when Erik opened the door and went inside, slamming the door behind him, leaving Richard to stare.
He smirked as he shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So nice to see your people skills have improved, Erik," he shouted through the closed door. "The offer still stands...I just want you to know that." When silence only greeted him, he turned on his heels and headed up the stairs. "Guy's more anti-social than Charles Manson."
000000000
Okay...there we go...chapter ended. Not the greatest, I don't think. I was rereading it and am not all too pleased. So, don't be surprised if it is rewritten later...I just wanted to get an update up so no one thinks I died and left you all in suspense. Please review and let me know what you think!