Chapter Three

Christine woke up, feeling if possible, worse than she did while at her father's grave. Her head was pounding in her head, bursting with not only physical pain, but the same questions that had been echoing in her mind, the same ones she screamed in the mausoleum. Slowly her eyes came into focus, and she realized she was in her bed. But not her bed in the dormitories, her bed in her teacher's home. She rubbed the red satin sheets between her fingers. The room was exactly as she had remembered, fill with exquisite pieces of furniture, all made of deep cherry wood. She was still in her navy blue dress she had worn the day before.

As she was becoming reacquainted with her surroundings, she heard the door being unlocked, and in stepped her Angel. He wore a dashing suit: black trousers that slid over his muscular legs, a white cotton dress shirt, fitted over with a deep mauve vest and a brilliantly fitted over coat. In his hands, he carried a tray of delicious foods, which included fruit, eggs, bacon and toast. On the side of the tray lay a red rose.

"Hello, my dear. I brought you some breakfast. I want you to eat everything on this plate; you were quite weak yesterday morning, and have been sleeping ever since."

Christine smiled and sat up in her bed, resting her back against the headboard, "Thank you so much, it all looks so good. But I have a terrible headache, and I don't think food will agree with me right now."

"Christine, you haven't had anything to eat or drink in over a day. No wonder your head hurts." He took the fork, gathered a small portion of eggs, and brought it up to Christine's mouth.

Christine winced at the thought of being forced to consume something that made her feel sick at the smell of it. Not that the eggs were cooked poorly, she just didn't have the will to eat. Making a face like that of a repulsed child being forced to eat her vegetables, she reluctantly opened her mouth and swallowed the eggs, at the sight of her teacher's pleading eyes.

"There's my good girl! Can you do this by yourself, or do I need to feed you all of your meals?" he joked.

Christine giggled at the absurdity of what he said. "No, I can do it."

"Here you go," he handed her the fork and stood up "I'll be back in a little bit; I'm going to make you some tea. Then we need to have a talk, ok?"

Christine nodded, and began eating her meal. She knew what he had wanted to discuss: The temper tantrum she threw the morning before. He probably wanted to, one: Make sure she was mentally stable after that performance, and two: Instruct her that that kind of behavior wouldn't be tolerated anymore. How could she blame him? Was he to be her personal punching bag when things started to get rough? Of course not. She was grateful that he had brought her back to a place were she felt safe and could recover. She was also glad that he was willing to talk about this with her, and not pretend as if it never happened.

With each bite she ate, she realized how hungry she really was. The eggs still didn't agree with her stomach, but the fruit, bacon and toast were devoured within moments. She looked at the rose, and weakly grasped it in her hand. What did was this supposed to symbolize? Admiration? Comfort? Love? The questions that had plagued her in her dreams came swirling about in her mind, and she began to grow dizzy at the thought of them.

"Christine, are you finished? My dear, you still haven't eaten your eggs. Are they not to your liking?"

Christine immediately replied, "No, no, they are very good. I just can't seem to eat them with out feeling sick. Everything else was excellent. You are quite the chef!"

Erik couldn't help but smile at her admiration. He had gotten up especially early to make sure she had the perfect breakfast. The eggs took him an especially great deal of attention, and he was a little bothered she hadn't eaten them. It was all for the best though, he thought. There was no use in making herself sick over a few bites of egg. He set a saucer with a cup of tea on the nightstand.

"How are you feeling this morning my child?" he inquired.

"Well, my head is still pounding, but the food helped quite a bit."

"Good, good." Taking a deep breath, he proceeded to inform Christine of his arrangements for her future, terrified of her inevitable response, "Christine, I want to talk to you about yesterday. I know you were very confused, and still am. I want you to know that I am going to help you in every way that I can. I live for you to be happy, Christine. But to help you understand your feelings, you're going to have to stay with me."

Christine didn't have a problem with this. She wanted to stay with her Angel until she could sort out her feelings. There was no use in getting Raoul involved with them. He had been nothing but perfectly sweet to her, and she didn't want to burden him with her problems.

"Alright." She replied

Erik cringed because he knew she didn't understand what he meant. His heart began to race, as he calmly explained, "Christine, I mean for the rest of your life. You're going to stay here, with me, for the rest of your life."

Erik held his breath and waited for her reaction.