Okay, so admittedly it took me a bit longer than a week to update – I kept letting myself be distracted, so I apologise for that. I think you're just going to have to accept that I'm not a particularly punctual person. In this chapter I have used asterixes (hope they show up) to denote thought, because in the previous chapter I used italics to show where direct speech was interrupted by narrative. I realised when reading over my story that I had made Meg's character too complicated emotionally for me to keep a hold of, so this chapter goes towards helping figure out all those conflicting feelings and making sure her personality doesn't become too fractured. This is quite an angsty chapter, so I hope it's alright. Oh, and there is swearing, so I've increased the rating to M just to be on the safe side (I couldn't decide if it counted as mild or strong coarse language). For those of you who may say that Meg is a woman and wouldn't know words like that, and that men in those days would have been too noble to swear like that, or maybe even think that they didn't have swear words like that, I disagree: of course they are going to have words like that (except that they would be the French version, but I'm English and writing a story in English so I don't want to overuse French words in case it looks as though I'm trying to be clever), and yes, admittedly they may not have used swearwords often, but they have both been living in an Opera House for years, so they will have heard the words and know what they mean. So you have been warned. Please leave a review, but don't flame me if you don't like these characters swearing a bit. Hope you like the chapter.

"Our Age of Anxiety is, in great part, the result of trying to do today's jobs with yesterday's tools." – Marshall McLuhan

Estelle Tiniwiel – x –

Shit. How in the name of all that is holy am I going to get out of this one? A young girl has proclaimed that she loves you, but at the same time she still hates you for what you've done. Or does she? Which sentiment does she truly hold? Huh, she thinks she is confused; she ought to try being me right now… Actually, no; she probably shouldn't. It might kill her.

This dark train of thought ran through Erik's mind all that night as he sat in the little nest of blankets Madame Giry had made up for him in the living area.

She said she felt sad for you, that she pitied you. She was fascinated by you. Yes, that was it. She had been in the grip of an obsession: that is not the same as love.

Then a treacherous little voice added: She was in the grip of an obsession: just like you.

It is only now that she has started talking and thinking of me in terms of love. Before she just… tolerated me. And then pitied me – started to ignore the fact that I had hurt someone she loved, started to ignore the fact that I am a murdering madman. Or maybe she didn't ignore it at all, maybe that was what started to change her.

Then the little voice chimed in again: And then you had to go and destroy everything again by threatening her dear little boulangerie friend, didn't you? Whether or not she has just said she loves you it doesn't mean she can't hate you at the same time. You heard it in her voice: the hatred, the spite, the sense of betrayal, the feeling of abhorrence. You've pushed her away again.

Maybe I can get her back. She said she loved me after she had told me I truly was a monster. She said it afterwards!

The voice chuckled: Yes! She said it afterwards! And I wonder how much of it she believed anymore, how much of it she doubted, how sick she felt at admitting that she could ever think of loving something like you? She can only want to destroy you now. You are the source of all the pain in her life. It all comes back to you.

Destroy. Destruction. That is all I am good for now. That is all I was ever good for.

I can never love.

(In Meg's room…)

"God, Meg, why do you have to be such an idiot! Blurting out all that rubbish about having a crush on an idea, using words like love, when all along you know that he's a murderer and madman and he's threatened to hurt or possibly kill, which by the way is a very great danger considering who he is, Martine? I hate him. I really do. I can't possibly love him. He's too ugly. Oh shit, I know I'm not that shallow. But he is too dangerous. Too changeable. No one sensible would settle marrying a man like him. But hey, you're not sensible are you? because you're saying this all out loud!"

Meg sighed heavily and sank to balance herself on the edge of her bed, her toes tip-tapping the floorboards in her frustration.

I'd better shut up. He might hear me. I was being as quiet as I could when I tried to sneak past him this morning and he still hear me, even though he was fast asleep.

She lay down on the bed, her mind a mass of conflicting emotions, a confusing mess that left her wanting to disappear and leave the world behind.

In her room Madame Giry took her ear away from the wall and settled back down on her bed, comforted that her daughter was at least thinking rationally now.