Chapter 3
Christine locked the door behind her, and stepped into the shadow's of her bedroom. She had waited for this night since he first left her a week ago. Never had she longed for her angel like this, but then again, she had never been that close to him before. A cold chill creep along the room that caused her to shiver, it's source, an open window of her angel to make is appearance through.
"Where is he?" She whispered to herself. Since they first began to meet, he had alway came before her. After all, she had to wait for Raoul to leave with his 'gentlemen' friends. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move in the shadows, then, almost instantaneously, she felt a large body wrap around her. She could feel his soft breath glide across the skin on her neck, while the feel of soft leather gloves crept up her cheek.
"Why Erik, I do hope you plan on singing sometime this evening." His lips grazed her neck, and made their way to her exposed shoulders.
"I just can't help it." He twisted her around, letting his mouth meet hers. The kiss only lasted for a short moment, till he pulled away, and guided her over to two arm chairs that sat in front of a large, Victorian style fireplace. He took a seat across from her, and held her delicate hands in his own. For a moment, they just sat their, looking at each other, soaking up the other's gaze. Neither one of them wanted to start the lesson, but after all, that was the excuse Erik had to come to Christine.
"Christine," Erik began, "You and I both know there is no reason for us to continue your voice lessons." Fear spread like wildfire through her body. She prayed that he didn't regret what happened the last time he came to her.
"But Erik." She squeaked out, as he clutched her hands tighter, and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"Your voice... it's wonderful. So much has changed since you started. I can't improve it. I haven't been able to for sometime now, But you already knew that." She nodded her head, she had suspicions but didn't want to bring it up to her angel, for fear he would leave.
"But, Erik...you can't stop, what..." She wasn't sure what to say, but he knew what she was thinking.
"There is nothing I could teach you, my pet..." He turned his head away, to hide his watering eyes. "I told myself when you first came to me I would just train your voice, nothing more, And now, I'm finished..."
"Well, what if I take up an instrument?" Christine asked hopefully, but Erik shook his head and sighed.
"And what would you tell your husband? Seeing as he has banned all forms of music from your household." Christine hung her head, Knowing he was right. Her husband removed her from her old life, leaving behind the opera house, her friends, and most of all, her music. He did his best to keep it out of the house, not even lullabies for the baby was permitted. Christine's soul seemed to be slowly dying without her music. That is when she decided to sneak away one day when Raoul had returned home drunk after spending the day with his 'friends', and visited her angel. She begged him to reinstate their meetings to train her voice. He only agreed after seeing how the lack of music had effected her. Her face was thinner, and pale, her bright, bubbly charm lost. Her intense hair and eyes seemed to have faded to a bland appearance. She was not the innocent little ballet girl he fell in love with, but a lost dead soul, who was just waiting for their time to end. After they began her lessons again, almost like magic her youth was restored, as if she drank for an elixir of life. Christine was sure that if she hadn't gone to her angel, she would have died of a broken heart.
"I could go to you." She suggested.
"It takes almost an hour for me to get here, and I am much quicker than you would be, and besides, the cold weather could do harm to you vocal cords, than can't happen."
"Why are you always right, my angel?" She smiled at him, and leaned closer to him, not only to put her face in range with his, but also giving him a rather revealing look at her cleavage.
"When you get to be as old as I am, you seem to understand the world better than the youth."
"Your not old." She protested, he just chuckled at her comment.
"I am over twenty years older than you, my dear. I am old enough to be your father." His words didn't seem to effect her, because she just looked at him with even more longing for him.
"I personally don't care about your age." She said, then kissed the backs of his hands. "You don't have to come to teach me, just come for me."
"Your a married women Christine, or have you forgotten?" His toned seemed to threaten, yet comfort her.
"Well, that doesn't matter, after all, Raoul-"
"Don't sink yourself to his level. The boy is a fool. If he can't see the heaven he lives in, and must turn to those creatures of the underworld for joy..." Erik hissed, as he pulled his hands away form her. "No, you can't sink to that level. You deserve better. Yes you deserve better than all this. You deserve better than a fool, you deserve an angel, not a demon." He was slowly coming to a realization in his mind. He got up, and made his way toward the open window, but Christine reached for his arm, and stopped him dead in his tracks. It wouldn't take any effort at all for him to force her to release him, just a small push, and he would be on his way. But the thought of even harming one hair on her precious head sickened him.
"Erik," She spoke in a tender, loving voice. "You are my angel." She pushed herself up onto her toes, and kissed the side of his mask, but her kiss didn't change his tense, emotionless face.
"No, I just tricked you to believe I was one. No angel would look like me, done what I've done." She moved her hands up to the sides of his mask. He flinched, fear seemed to fill his golden eyes. She just stood there in shock, that he was still frightened she would remove his mask again. Even when they made love, he wore the mask. She had taken it off him only twice, once in his home, and once in the middle of a crowded opera. Both times she still clearly remembered the fear, and hate in his eyes. He absolutely hated his face, and wished that no one, not even his worst enemy, be tortured by the sight of it.
"Angel" She whispered, in a pleading manner, but it did no good. He turned away from her, and disappeared into the darkness.
