Stand and Watch It Burn: Third Degree and Reassurances
"So, Liam, Christine tells me the production is going well?" Annette Giry inquired from across the dinner table to Liam, who was greedily stuffing his face with pasta.
"Mm...really?" The red-head replied after gulping down a large sip of water. "I wouldn't know, seeing as you're niece has been avoiding me for weeks now." He sent a good natured glare to Christine, who met his eyes for the first time all night and matched his stare, though hers was a bit more irritated.
"I have not been avoiding you, Liam, I've been busy. The rehearsals...they take a lot out of me."
"We haven't had a single conversation in weeks!"
"Oh please, stop being a drama queen."
"Hey! Hey. What's up? Nothing, just doing homework. That's cool, what's our mythology homework?"
"You're exaggerating." Christine eyed him indignantly. "And no way is my voice that high and flippant."
"Children, please," Annette chided. Normally, she would often simply sit back and watch as the two engaged in friendly banter between each other, but tonight she seemed aware of the real tension.
"Mrs. Giry, back me up here! Christine spends hours after school, even on rehearsal days, finishing up all her homework. How can she all of a sudden be too busy to hang out?" Liam asked. "I'm a senior and somehow she for some reason has more work to do then me!"
Annette looked at Christine, who shrugged helplessly. "I told you. I've just been tired, that's all." She met Liam's eyes and shook her head with obvious annoyance. Was it really necessary for him to discuss this particular matter right in front of her aunt? "And besides," she continued defensively, "I don't always finish all my homework. Sometimes I only get a few hard pages done before I have my..."
Crap! What the hell was she thinking?
"You're what?" Her aunt asked, raising a curious eyebrow.
"Uh...my...practice," she answered as matter-of-factly as she could, though realizing she had failed miserably. She quickly took a bite of her food, silently praying the subject would drop. She inwardly cursed when both her aunt and Liam gazed at her with raised eyebrows, obviously waiting for her to continue. "Sometimes...I...I like to go over some dance moves...for the musical."
She noticed Liam roll his eyes and continue eating but Christine's own eyes were trained on her aunt, whose gaze narrowed a bit. "Alone?" She inquired, her tone laced with a touch of suspicion.
"Y...yes..."
Why was her heart beating this fast?
"Hmm."
"What?" Christine knew by now that her aunt responded with a suspicious 'hmm' whenever she suspected something.
"You just shouldn't...wander the school by yourself after hours." Her aunt picked up her plate and Christine breathed a quiet sigh of relief as it seemed the matter had finally been dropped.
Liam's voice piped up. "That's what I always told her! You'd think that even after the whole hearing-voices fiasco, she'd be a little bit more spooked."
Christine's heart stopped. For a moment, she had thought it had actually, physically stopped. Damn him to hell! How dare he? How DARE--
"Voices?" Annette shut off the running water from the sink and turned around, an expression of noticeable shock and concern etched on her sharp features. "Christine? You heard a voice? What did it say?"
Uh...I am your angel of music?
Christine shook her head, keeping her eyes focused on her near-empty plate the entire time, her hands nervously fiddling with the table cloth. She could feel herself turning bright red and found she was unable to meet the scrutinizing gaze of her aunt. Much to her dismay, her voice came out a little quieter and guiltier than she would have preferred.
"I was dreaming..." she muttered, barely able to contain both the anger she felt towards Liam for opening his big mouth and the shame she felt for lying to her aunt.
An agonizing silence followed, and Christine couldn't bear sitting there any longer. She had to get out. She had to leave this suffocating room. She just wanted to lie in her bed and quietly sing herself to sleep, just to escape the searching gaze of her aunt.
The sound of the sink running reached her ears again, and Christine slowly looked up to meet Liam's eyes, which were shifting a little back and forth as he recognized her discomfort and realized his mistake.
Focusing her fury and guilt in that one penetrating stare, Christine excused herself and retired to her bedroom for the night and bitterly bid her friend a safe drive home.
"Christine?"
Christine's mind snapped back to reality as the stern voice beckoned to her from some unknown place in the auditorium. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, cursing herself for zoning out again.
"Fine," the melodic voice continued, and Christine winced at how aggravated it sounded. "If you would bother paying attention for a few moments, we'll start again with..."
"I can't..." Christine couldn't stop the words that came out barely a whisper, but knowing they were heard, for the voice stopped speaking immediately. Only a harsh, uneasy silence was left, except for her ragged breathing. "I can't do this..."
"...What?"
"I...I'm sorry. You've really helped me, you have. I just..."
What was she saying? The voice lessons she had been receiving for the past few weeks with her mysterious vocal trainer had done wonders for her voice. It was sounding better than she could have ever imagined, due to the unique but occasionally extremely strenuous techniques her teacher had been using with her.
Not only that, but lately she had been catching herself singing alone more often. Sometimes she would have to stop herself for fear that her aunt would overhear her and wonder when she overcame her unwillingness to sing. It seemed like every moment of the day she would hear the low, smooth voice of her mysterious angel singing to her in her head or correcting her mistakes as she sung to herself in her room. With each meeting with her new guide she could feel herself yearning for music just a little bit more each day...
Perhaps that was what frightened her the most. It was impossible not to realize the absurdity of the entire situation. She was receiving vocal lessons from a musical genius whom she had never laid eyes upon and who claimed he was an angel sent from her father. Any normal, rational person would simply stop heeding the voice, or possibly call the police. But she couldn't do that. It would be like...she would feel like she was betraying her father.
"Christine?"
Christine contemplated the unusual manner with which her teacher addressed her. Normally, his voice would boom throughout the auditorium with confidence and power. Her name would always be spoken in a command, firm and unrelenting. Now, it seemed fairly puzzled as it gently and almost uncertainly got her attention.
"I...I don't know, I..." She took a deep breath to cease her stammering. "I...I can't keep lying to my friends, my aunt..." She paused, disconcerted by the silence that followed her statement and afraid that she had truly offended her teacher. "My voice is better than it has ever been before. I...well, I actually enjoy singing. It used to make me feel sad, you know...t-the singing, because it made me think about...well, i-it made me feel..." She let out a frustrated sigh at her inability to express any coherent sentences. "It's just...I'm being taught by...well, honestly? I can't believe I'm being taught by an angel. I just...I'm incredibly confused. And my aunt has been asking...questions..."
"What kind of questions?" The inquisitive voice nearly made Christine jump as it spoke suddenly in a tone she couldn't quite identify.
"She just seems suspicious, sir. She wonders why I'm so tired and why I don't have time for my friends. She says I shouldn't spend so much time alone after school."
Silence followed Christine's explanation, and she shifted uncomfortably. After a few tense moments, the voice of her teacher reached her ears once more, its firm tone back in place.
"Do not worry about Mrs. Giry, Christine. I'm sure she will prod no further. As for your other...dilemmas..." He paused, and Christine looked down at her feet. "Tell me, Christine..."
She marveled at the fact that the way he simply said her name seemed to soothe her.
"...How do you feel when you sing?"
The question threw her, but after thinking about it she realized it would be impossible for her to express her answer in mere words. She felt a small smile spread on her face as memories of her father swept through her mind. The images of his violin and her singing with him were replaced with recent memories of her singing herself to sleep with her mysterious angel lingering in her dreams.
"I...I feel like, like I'm...floating." My, my, how stupid did she sound? Was that the best she could do? Floating? Was that even the right word? "I...I don't know how to explain it. I feel...right. And yet...happy and sad all at the same time. I...I know that sounds pretty stupid," she looked down, blushing at her rather faulty expression of her feelings.
"Quite the contrary. I can tell how passionate you are about music deep down, Christine, simply by hearing you sing. But, you have kept your passion locked away for quite some time now, and it's time for you to unleash it."
Christine did not nod, but did not show any sign of disagreement. Her heart acknowledged the fact that he was right. Ever since her father became ill, her desire to sing lay dormant in her soul. But it wasn't dead. It had never died. Perhaps that was what her father had always been trying to tell her in her dreams? And now, as she felt herself enjoying singing with her teacher and by herself more and more, did that mean her passion was being rekindled? Is that what her father would have wanted?
"Your father bestowed upon you a gift, one that he expected you to embrace and share, am I right?"
Christine peered into the darkness, blinking when she could have sworn her eyes spotted a rustle of movement high in the balcony. "I...yes, I suppose he did."
"Then, it is up to you. If you are weak enough to let trivial distractions like friends prevent you from doing what you are destined to do and what you enjoy doing...and you do enjoy it, Christine, I can see it in your eyes and smile each time you use your voice..."
She felt one hot tear roll down her cheek and she looked up once again into the balcony that was bathed in darkness.
"...Then you may walk out that door and some other less talented child will be blessed with your angel."
No sound was heard for several moments, and Christine contemplated his words. After a long while, she wondered suddenly with alarm if he had left her. "Angel?" She called out, fearfully.
"I'm here, Christine," answered the voice, wrapping her once again in its comforting embrace.
"I'm sorry, I didn't...I was just...afraid. I..." She stood helplessly as her vision was blurred with tears but she felt too drained to try to fight against the emotional feelings were now consuming her. "I just don't...I don't want to let him down!"
"I am your angel of music, Christine. Your father...and your mother...would be beside themselves with joy at the very sound of your voice."
The statement seemed to make her tears flow quicker as an image of her father and her beautiful smiling mother, whom she had seen only in pictures, gazing down proudly at her. After basking a bit in the dream, she wiped her tears away with her hand. "Angel?" She called out softly once more. She caught a swirl of moment somewhere above and smiled. "I...feel kind of stupid calling you that. Don't you have a name?"
There was a long pause and Christine searched the darkness for another sign of her teacher. When the answer came, it came in the form of a reluctant response, almost a sigh.
"You may call me...Erik."
In the shadows he watched.
His blue eyes seemed even darker in the moonlight as he lurked in the shadows. "Well, this is interesting..." he mumbled gruffly, watching the two figures inside the small brick house move back and forth, as if in some heated argument. The woman's hair was as unkempt as he had ever seen it, and her face was flushed in anger as she pointed her thin finger to the stranger in the room.
"Very interesting..."
He watched as the tall, cloaked figure ran his hands through his hair with some agitation and angrily turned around and stormed out of the room. Although he was sure the dark shadow cast from the giant oak tree would conceal him, he took a step away to ensure his presence was kept unnoticed. Curiously, he watched as the man exited the house.
He was more than a bit taken aback at the sight of the man's face as he strode away from the woman's porch. Clear as daylight, a shining white mask that concealed the right half of his defined face gleamed in the moonlight. The object seemed perfectly crafted to fit the man's features and somehow made the shape seem that much more ominous. However, it seemed that less than a second later the man had vanished into the shadows after stealthily jumping over a fence.
Turning his gaze back through the window, he couldn't help but smile with delight at the expression of regret and sadness that was etched upon the despairing Annette's face. He watched her attempt to straighten herself up, regaining the cool and calm facade she was known for, and return to her bedroom.
Earlier, he recalled fondly, he had managed to steal about a third of the woman's savings right from her account, and had also broken into her home and taken certain valuable items. Why? Well, he hadn't exactly needed the money, but one could never have enough prizes of worth. Actually, the real reason was: he just wanted to let her know she wasn't safe. He was sure that Annette hadn't known the thief was actually him, but he wondered if it was his actions that triggered this most curious argument he had just witnessed.
God, he hoped so.
With a smug expression, he left the front yard with a satisfied smirk upon his lips.
A/N: I...well, this is one of those chapters that I wasn't going to be satisfied with no matter how many times I edit it. It's possible that in the future I'll edit it to shreds, because I just can't be happy with it. Anyway, just a reminder: don't forget italicized portions are flashbacks. I hope this chapter wasn't too incredibly impossible to get through as it was impossible to write.
Please, please review! I'll have no idea if this is continue-able if I don't get any feedback! Thanks for the reviews I've gotten!
la M.R
