Chapter Five

Alright...I know. I deserve to die a horrible, slow death by spider bites and a Barney marathon...I cannot apologize enough for not updating. I don't really have much of an excuse except that I am now a senior...and senioritis has hit full on. In every aspect of my so called life, it seems. I know that this is a very very late update, and I pray that all of you faithful reviewers haven't given up on me and my story...So...thank you all so much for being so faithful, and here is the long awaited chapter five. Read and review, and I promise that since school is coming close to an end, I will keep up on updates. Enjoy!

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A Thrill of Hope

Chapter Five

"Proposals"

All around her was darkness.
The ropes biting into her wrists and ankles left a burning course as she struggled against them, the blindfold she wore soaking in the tears that fell from her eyes. Her quiet sobs fell on deaf ears as a sinister chuckle pierced her own.

"There is no use struggling, Christine," his dark voice intoned. "I've been binding people for a long time. You'll never break the ropes."

Her struggling ceased, and she drew a shaky breath. "What do you want?" She gasped as callused fingers twirled a lock of her chestnut curls, and fear sank into her heart.

"What do I want," he asked. "Quite simple really." Fingers tugged at the blindfold, and her heart beat raced. She felt his breath on her ear as he drew close. "Your life," he whispered, and the blindfold fell away.

She looked up and screamed as the knife plunged down...

Christine shot up in bed with a scream, her brown hair plastered to her face with sweat. With wide eyes she took in her surroundings. No tight ropes. No blindfold. No knife. No psychopath.

She was in her dorm, in her bed, the sheets tightened around her hips, and no face but Meg's concerned one stared at her.

"Chris," the blonde girl asked, switching on a light. "Are you okay?"

Christine squinted against the sudden brightness and drew in a shaky breath as she ran a hand through her deshevled hair. "Yeah...I'm fine, Meg." She smiled softly. "Just a bad dream." Her friend smiled.

"Yeah. With everything happening, it's no wonder." She lifted her hand to stifle a yawn. "Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep?"

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Christine sighed. "No. I have to get up in about two hours anyway. I think I'll just go and grab a shower and some breakfast. You go on back to sleep, Meg."

The only response was a soft murmur from the lump of blankets on the bed next to her. Chuckling softly and shaking her head, she threw the blankets of and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She paused for an instant, listening to the soft breathing of her best friend and the quick beat of her own heart. What a hell of a dream, she thought to herself. Must have been something I saw on TV.

Yet as she gathered her toiletries and headed off to the shower, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread running down her spine.

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Erik slipped down the air ducts with ease, his boots not making a sound as they hit the linoleum. His golden eyes quickly grew accustomed to the darkness of the weight room, and his gaze was drawn to the white chalk drawing that ran across one of the large weight machines. Walking silently across the room, he bent down to examine the drawing better.

The boy had been killed when exercising early, it seemed. His legs had been draped over the edge of the machine, one bent at the knee. One arm and hand had fallen limp to the floor, while the other was draped over his head, as if fighting off the killer before his life was stolen away.

Erik's eyes caught a sight swinging above him, and his gaze traveled to the severed rope.

He'd been strangled with the weight rope.

Erik brought his hand to his chin, brow furrowed. Why kill the boy? What brought about this change in MO? What satisfaction could the killer have possibly gotten by murdering a --

"I knew you would show up sooner or later," a voice behind him said. Erik stiffened, his hand dropping to his bent knee. "Firmin," he said. "Do you truly believe that you know me so well?"

The detective chuckled and light filled the room as a switch was hit. "Enough to know that you would never risk being seen in the front of a crime scene in the middle of the day, even if there are no officers around, as well as that you rarely ever use a door, therefore must find an alternate entrance."

The masked man rose to his full height as Firmin approached and turned to face his old acquaintance. The detective nodded towards the equipment. "He was killed with the rope. CSI cut it earlier and just confirmed the skin cells found on it. How on earth the killer was able to do it with those weights attached his beyond us."

Erik glanced behind him. "The weights were used as leverage." Firmin looked at him. "The rope was around his neck and as it was pulled by the killer, the weights pulled the opposite end. His neck was snapped in moments."

Firmin nodded, fighting back the urge he had to ask how he knew it so well. Perhaps it would terrify me to learn the answer, he thought. He remembered well the damage the masked man could create. He'd seen it first hand, on more than one occasion. His train of thought was interrupted when the man in question spoke. "What do you want, Firmin?"

He straightened, his mind once more on the case before him. "My men and I are at a dead end, Erik. We were before, now even more so. No one on my team can crack into this lunatic's head. Even when we think we're onto something, he turns in a completely different direction." He paused. "We need your help, Erik." The masked man spun around, walking back towards the air ducts, Firmin quickly following suit. "You've done it before. You aided us in the McGregor case--"

"To return a favor," Erik interjected.

"And practically solved the case on your own. Now you are working on the same case as we are. Why not help each other? It could spare another talented young woman her life!"

At those words, Erik stopped just below the air ducts, the flawless face of Christine Daae flashing before his eyes.

Hope surged within Firmin as he watched Erik's motionless back. But the hope quickly changed into disappointment as he raised himself into the duct.

Before he completely disapperead into the darkness above, Firmin heard his echoed response of "I'll consider it."

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"Can I get you a refill, my dear?"

Christine looked up at the old woman holding a coffee pot and smiled softly. "Yes, please," she said, lifting her mug from the table. She waited until the woman refilled Raoul's mug before lifting her own to her lips and taking a sip. Swallowing the hot liquid, she raised her brown eyes to the man sitting across the small table.

"So...um...how did your family get involved with the University? If I remember right, your parents don't usually do the whole grant thing," she asked, finally breaking the silence. Raoul smiled and lowered his mug.

"Phil and Dad saw an opera show that the school put on. They were real blown away and got to talking to some of the administration. Dad found out about the money thing and talked to Mom. She was just thrilled he and Phil were branching out in their money deposits."

Christine smiled, recalling a few of their others. She never thought she'd ever forget Madame DeChagny's face when she found out about the dating service- which turned out to be an escort service-, or the animal training facility- which turned out to be a race track.

"So they met with all the big wigs and proposed the grant. It was accepted readily, and here we are." He watched as her small hands brought the mug to her lips. "I had no idea you were here, Christine." Brown eyes met his. "I tried looking for you after I graduated a few months ago, but they said you'd transferred. I wanted to see you." He paused. "I missed you, Chris."

Christine ran a hand through her hair. "Raoul, I thought we weren't going to talk about this."

Raoul nodded. "Yeah, I know, but I can't help it. I missed you. I'd almost given up before I saw you at the campus...you look good, Chris. Beautiful." She lowered her gaze to the table top and traced the several ring stains there with her finger. "Look, i nkow that I was a jerk. A huge one. But it was stupid. Senior stupiditis...isn't that what you said all of us seniors suffered from?" He saw a smile tugging at her lips and he grinned. "Come on, Chris. You always said you believed in second chances and that everyone should be allowed one. How about giving me mine?"

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know," she said, raising her head to look at him. "You really hurt me Raoul. You were the hardest thing to try to get over."

His face fell at her words. "So...you're over me?"

She smiled softly. "I said 'try.' I honestly thought I was until I saw you the other day. Then I realized I wasn't."

The smile that used to steal her breath away appeared once more. "Well, the same goes for me. Christine...I'm really sorry for the way I treated you. I really am. And I really want to give it another shot. I now we can make it work this time. Please, Chris?" he took her hand in his. "I swear that I won't hurt you again."

Her pulse thundering in her ears, she looked at their joined hands. "YOu promise?" He nodded and squeezed her hand. She sighed and smiled at him. "One more chance."

Raoul laughed and brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

Today was a good day.

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Today was a bad day.

That's what Angelina Johansson thought as she watched her brother drag another unconcious girl to the basement of their 3 story house. It was a very bad day. She could tell by his stature. And, of course, by the large bruise covering her left cheek.

Something had set him off today. Something he had seen that afternoon had sparked his temper like she'd never seen before. She had merely asked him what was bothering him when his fist swung around and knocked her to the ground. He had that look in his eyes and stormed away, leaving her sprawled on the kitchen floor. Upon hearing him returning that night, she ran behind the banister, hiding herself from his as well as she could. And there she still was.

"Angie," Joel yelled, now coming up the stairs. "Ang, where are you?"

Angelina closed her green eyes and rested her forehead against the banister. He sounded like her big brother again. There was no anger in his voice; no warning of the danger that was to come. Just curisosity and worry as to where she was. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet and walked towards him. "Here I am."

He turned to her and his eyes traveled to her cheek. Pain etched itself into his face. "Oh, Ang...Ang, I'm so sorry," he said, walking towards her. His fingers traced the discolored skin and she flinched. "Angie, you know how I get. You aren't supposed to even be near me then."

Angelina nodded, a strand of bleached blond hair falling over her forehead. "I know," she whispered.

"Fingers grasped her chin and tilted her face upwards. She gazed into the face of the brother she loved...and the killer she feared. "Hey...I'm doing it all for you. You know that." She nodded. "Don't worry...it's almost over. Alright?" She nodded again, tears slipping from her eyes. "Hey...I Love you, Angie." He enveloped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest.

Angelina wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face against his shoulder. "I know .And I love you too," she whispered. "I really do...I love you, Joel."

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Alright! Chapter five is up, and chapter six is almost done! Once again, I am so very very sorry that my senioritis affected my updating times...I am very very sorry! Ahhh! I"m supid! SO please, don't give up on me and review...I will have the next chapter up as soon as I can! Until next time!