Omg this chapter sucks! Very short though so if you have been reading the
other stuff might as well read this. Erik is such a wonderful character to
write, but I am afraid of being untrue to him. There is such a fine
line.well I tried! R/R please.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel of Music indeed! What was I thinking! Angel of Music! What a fool!
But the moment was so perfect. If I hadn't spoken then, how long would I have waited for another chance? I wanted so much to ease her pain, and I had succeeded, had I not? She was not crying when I left her. I did not want to leave her after such a short conversation, but what a ridiculous conversation it was. I could bear it no longer!
I feel so very stupid. She considers the whole affair to be the product of her imagination. Who could blame her? She was, literally, "hearing voices."
I will visit her again tomorrow night. I will make my purpose clear, get straight to the music. I will earn her trust and ultimately her love. Oh, who am I kidding? I will never earn that. As long as I continue this miserable existence I will not earn any woman's love, especially not Christine. No matter what I do to prevent it she will inevitably see my face. I cannot fool myself into thinking she will not. Once she does it will be over. Everything will die. Any trust I have managed to build crumble; any affection I earn will be crushed. The sight of my horrifying ugliness always drives people to senseless fear, to the animal instinct to get away. It even did that to me, as a young boy thrust in front of the mirror. Even then I did not realize that the monster in the mirror was I. I will never forget the moment I realized that. . .
But, for a while, she will not now. She will be blissful in her ignorance. All she will know of me is a beautiful voice. All I will know of her is everything.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel of Music indeed! What was I thinking! Angel of Music! What a fool!
But the moment was so perfect. If I hadn't spoken then, how long would I have waited for another chance? I wanted so much to ease her pain, and I had succeeded, had I not? She was not crying when I left her. I did not want to leave her after such a short conversation, but what a ridiculous conversation it was. I could bear it no longer!
I feel so very stupid. She considers the whole affair to be the product of her imagination. Who could blame her? She was, literally, "hearing voices."
I will visit her again tomorrow night. I will make my purpose clear, get straight to the music. I will earn her trust and ultimately her love. Oh, who am I kidding? I will never earn that. As long as I continue this miserable existence I will not earn any woman's love, especially not Christine. No matter what I do to prevent it she will inevitably see my face. I cannot fool myself into thinking she will not. Once she does it will be over. Everything will die. Any trust I have managed to build crumble; any affection I earn will be crushed. The sight of my horrifying ugliness always drives people to senseless fear, to the animal instinct to get away. It even did that to me, as a young boy thrust in front of the mirror. Even then I did not realize that the monster in the mirror was I. I will never forget the moment I realized that. . .
But, for a while, she will not now. She will be blissful in her ignorance. All she will know of me is a beautiful voice. All I will know of her is everything.
