Chapter 7

Somehow Erik was able to return me to the Opera House just before rehearsals, just as it was our turn to dance on the stage. Meg's ankle had fully healed, giving me back my old common position. Actually, I enjoy being just one of the ballet girls, instead of having a real roll. There is something about dancing with the others, working together as one, that just calls to me.

I slipped into formation, just behind Meg, careful to avoid the eye of Madame Giry. I don't think I could handle her harsh criticizing words today, not after last night.

"What took you so long?" Meg asked, as we began our routine.

"I..." I wanted to tell her, but I knew I couldn't.

"I just went out of a walk, silly me I lost track of the time." I forced a face smile. We danced around, stealing quick words as we passed each other.

"You seem to always be gone lately." Sorelli passed between us, shotting us a disgusted look, then Meg continued.

"I'm worried about you. The other's are blind and don't notice how you have withdrawn from the group."

"I have never liked being with all of you." I said the next time I passed her. "I've never been social."

"But your worse." I rolled me eyes, pretending that nothing was wrong. Meg stopped our chatter, and focused on the dance.

Dancing has always been my escape. All thoughts flee when I concentrate on the movements in a dance. It is the only moment of pure serenity, just my body and the music, working as one.

My peace was interrupted when a horrified scream echoed around us, chilling me to my core. All of us jumped and scurried towards the sound, our curiosity getting the better of us.

Oh please don't let Erik have anything to do with this, I secretly pleaded. Images of what he has done flooded my mind,those terrible things, the chandelier,the kidnapping, Joseph Bouquet.

Gabriel, the chorus master, came running towards us, waving his arms for our attention. When he reached us, he stopped, clutching his chest and panting.

"He's dead! The stagehand! He was hanged." An uproar came from the crowd.

My hear sank. The last time a death like this occurred, it was by Erik's hand. Why would he do such a thing? I asked him not to kill him, why? My mind screamed, as I plunged into his world.

He was just sitting there, playing that damn intoxicating music, but it won't work this time. I refuse to give into him. When he noticed me presence, he turned to greet me, a wolfish grin across his face.

How can he smile at me like that! After what he did?

He tried to embrace me, but I recoiled. A confused look covered his face.

"what's wrong?" He asked, obviously faking his innocence.

"How could you?" A stern and horse voice came from my mouth, something I have never heard before.

"You promised me! Promised!" Without realizing what I was doing, the my hand struck his face, leaving a red impression. Erik collapsed onto the bench, from shock. Never in my life have I struck another person, especially not someone I love. He turned from he, placing his hand on his cheek, his eyed began to water.

"The stage hand was found, hanging from a rope, just like Joseph Bouquet." My words hung in the air like death. He looked up at me, his eyes full of sorrow.

"I didn't I swear I didn't. You asked me not to, so I didn't." His voice seemed to shake. Something about his manner made my anger faded, as I sat beside him. He took my hands in his.

"I would do what ever you asked, and you asked me to spare him. He didn't deserve it, but I listened, and let him live. You must believe me." He kissed the backs of my hands.

"Please believe me. I couldn't live with you thinking I had betrayed you."

No man has ever spoken to me like that, nor have I heard a man speak to women as Erik does to me. He begs for forgiveness, even when he does nothing wrong. He treats me like some goddess, everything he does is to please me. How could people not want a man like him? He is far better than any man I have met. Guilt started to form in my heart. How could I jump to such a conclusion? When he acts like this?

"I'm sorry, It's just.." How do you tell the man you love you think them a murderer? How can he not hate me for what I said?

"I understand." His voice returned to it's cool, smoothing manner. I went to kiss his cheek, the red impression of my hand still clung to his pale skin.

"My past will never leave me."

How can people be afraid of him? I fear him, but not because of his reputation, but I fear hurting him. I could not live with my self I caused him pain. He means everything to me.

"Forget the past, Erik."