A/N: Wow, chapter 9! Thanks to everyone who reads my story, I am really happy that you do!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the clothes on my back and the ideas for the story (retail value: $10.59 – I had someone come up with this exact amount, by the way, a la Price is Right).
When you're a captive, time passes slowly. As Erik's student, though, Christine felt time pass with at a pace she could barely keep up with. Mornings began with a breakfast Erik left her as well as his instructions for practice while he was away. Some days, it revolved around hours of piano practice. Other days, it was vocals or compositions or some book or theory to read. He expected her to be warmed up and ready when he returned in the late afternoon for dinner. Of course, he'd cook and wouldn't allow her to help with anything other than place settings.
"You just worry about your studies." He'd reprimanded her gently on several occasions. In the end, Christine had learned to accept this as another rule of her mysterious tutor's.
After dinner was finished Christine would sit patiently at the piano while Erik washed the dishes. He'd join her as soon as that was over for scales and instruction. It was during the night that they spent the most time together, intimately singing to and for each other. She'd become used to his hands molding her, showing her posture and mouth formation, as a kind of necessity. The fleeting touch of those cold hands sent shivers down her spine, but she'd learned not to overreact after that first time. She was his student, after all, and had no right to complain about her maestro's methods. Slowly her voice improved and, while he still worried her, Christine felt their odd comradery growing too.
Erik noted with satisfaction how well her voice had begun to suit his own.
"Christine, you've improved dramatically on your intonation." Erik said quietly one Friday night, when Christine had been particularly diligent. He flipped through the music sheets. "Something a little harder now..."
As he searched, Christine sat beside him, watching him. His long hair, which normally obstructed her view of his profile, was pulled back behind his ear to help him focus only on the study at hand. Such a pretty face...like an angel. His bone structure was excellent, and his eyes catlike. With more than a little embarrassment, Christine had begun to realize how often she'd wanted an unobstructed view of him. Why does he hide his face with his long hair? She followed his dark hairline, only to notice a trace on his perfect skin. A light pink scar ran down from halfway down his hairline and disappeared behind the ear. I think it's only on the right side. She resisted any desire to touch the line, not wanting to show any form of affection she was certain she did not feel. Still, the line fascinated her, more than the perfect face. She kept her eyes on it.
He turned suddenly, and his questioning eyes met hers. His hand sprang up to his hair and pulled it out from behind his ear. He looked back at the piano and stood to leave it.
"What is it?" She was alarmed at his change in behavior.
"I believe that's enough for tonight, Christine. I haven't given you enough time to rest your voice." With that, Erik took his textbook from the table and sat on his chair. He knew Christine would soon follow suit. As he waited for her, he fixed his eyes solely on the page. She saw it...she saw me, he shuddered inwardly. Will she ask questions? If she does, you don't have to answer, his other half explained, you're not the prisoner here. You amuse yourself with her, but never forget who is in the position of power in your game, Erik. There were times he hated his dark self, but this was not one of those moments. Although it had gnawed at him since he'd allowed Christine to live in the apartment, it was useful to help keep himself in check.
"Did you ever finish Paradise Lost, Christine?" Erik looked up casually from his copy of Jazz Theory: Modern, now composed once again. Since the night he'd given her the book, Christine and Erik had begun to settle into an uneasy peace. Music was the main subject of their conversations, and a near-comfortable silence enveloped them when they read together. Christine smiled sheepishly, a child caught in a little fib.
"I'm sorry, but I just couldn't." She was embarrassed to admit it, but was honest about it.
"Was it too hard to follow?" There was no disappointment, just curiosity.
"No..." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Not really...just kind of hard to finish. I mean, I know the story of Adam and Eve-"
"And the devil who plots their demise, right?" He shrugged his shoulders. "It's a common story, falling from grace."
"I stopped after the devil happens upon Eve in the garden."
"That was pretty early in, wasn't it? Did you become bored?"
Christine shook her head. "I read how he felt as he watched her. It was too sad for me to continue." She frowned as she remembered the passage. "Thrown from heaven, never to be forgiven, his jealousy was so natural. He secretly dreams of beauty, and can't ever reach it. I've read the bible, but I've never felt pity for him before." She feared she'd said too much again when he closed his book and spoke to her.
"Are you really such a child, Christine?" Erik's eyes shifted slightly to see her. She'd long since built up a tolerance to him, he knew, but watching her lose her temper diverted him. Like watching a kitten squirm helplessly when you've got it by the scruff of the neck.
"What?" She colored, but remained civil. It had taken too much to make their current arrangement work and she was determined to keep it. "What's childish about feeling sorry for him?"
"Everything," was his casual reply. "Your poor devil is a monster. He's acting in his nature, and so there is nothing to feel sorry for."
"His nature?"
"Yes, his nature. Your 'poor' Satan is only acting as he must. He was born to be a fallen being, and as such can never live the happily ever after you'd like him to. He can never be beautiful." Erik hadn't expected this to turn into real conversation, but didn't find it unpleasant to be teaching Christine one of the colder facts of life.
"Well, who decided that?"
"God." He snapped. "All part of his infallible plan: make someone the bad guy, only then can there exist free will to be good or bad. The one fallen is never saved, the rest can go either way. So," Erik summed up for her, "Adam and Eve will be forgiven and go to the good place, Satan is kept out for all eternity. The End."
There was another silence, this time strained as Erik became annoyed as Christine tried to counter his argument. So sweet, his darker self sniggered, a girl who feels sorry for a monster. Would she feel sorry for you, Erik? Would she embrace you and smile as you choked the life out of-
"Well, the story's not over yet, is it?" Christine huffed. Erik was shaken from his terrible thoughts as she spoke. "I mean, I don't know what God's planning and you don't know it either. The end of the world isn't today...and it probably won't be tomorrow. So how can you say it'll be forever? Things can change between now and then."
"Can his very nature change, Christine?" He couldn't look at her then, but his voice wasn't challenging her assumption. "Can a monster change into anything else? Can you be changed into anything more than a human?"
" ... no." She decided. There was a wince Erik could not hold back. "Not by myself...but, maybe with some help. People aren't solitary creatures, right?" She tugged at her sleeve, "So...I want to believe that we're not as alone as we seem sometimes." The words again seemed to spill out from some spring inside her. Lately, she'd realized she was becoming more open with her captor and tutor, and as frightening as it was she couldn't stop herself. She saw him stand and tuck something into his book, getting ready to leave.
"You're alone, Christine." He saw her pale at his cruel words. Her parents had only died a year or so ago, and it was still so fresh. And then he'd gone and made her his project. Somehow, he couldn't stop. At the moment, he resented her sweet, stupid words more than he liked her company. "You're all alone, so how can you say such things? It's hypocritical." He turned to leave.
"I'm with you, aren't I?" Her retort stopped him in his tracks, but he didn't turn as she rose. She dropped her book on the sofa. "It's not how I'd want things, and it's not how I planned life, but here I am. With you. I'm not alone." As she spoke, she realized how true her words were. This was and at the same time was not what she'd wanted since her parents had passed. It made her sick inside. The feeling was only intensified as she heard Erik's bitter laugh. He turned and seized her shoulders squarely, bringing her to him.
"Of course you can be thankful now. You've never had to deal with anything terrible in your life-" Erik brought a hand under her chin and forced her to look him square in the eye, "-except me."
"You're scaring me," she whimpered, but tried to stay still. The more she struggled, the more it would hurt. It reminded her of that night a few months ago.
"All part of God's design, I'm sure." His smile was feral, enjoying the power over her. "You're good, and God must keep testing that over and over again. Tell me," he was entering a rage she'd never seen before, "will you pass this one? Will you be freed and smite me into the fiery pit, Christine?" His grip was becoming more painful by the second, even though she was not struggling.
"Please stop..."
"-And since when do you feel safe with someone like me?" He ignored her pleas, too involved with his own dilemmas. "Why should you be safe? Why is it you feel so entitled in front of what you've so aptly catalogued as 'a monster'?" He bent to whisper in her ear huskily. "Feel all the sympathy you want for an imaginary monster, dear girl, but you'll regret being so defenseless before a real one. You were defenseless in front of those men, weren't you?"
Slap! Her hand stung with her assault, and her mind reeled at her unplanned action, but Christine had had enough. As he cupped his cheek and growled, Christine let it all out. "Why? If it's so terrible, why do you act like this? If you don't want to be a monster, then stop all of this!"
"Enough," he growled, fist clenching. She shook her head furiously.
"No! I want to know why you're so twisted. Why do you get so angry with me?" She took a step back when he looked at her. His hair disheveled and his eyes gleaming, he looked mad. He took a step toward her.
"Because-" Erik brought his hands around her neck, "-I hate you." Her eyes widened as he said those words, and she closed them to keep any reaction she might have had inside.
"Are you going to kill me now?" She asked in a deadpan voice. Her lack of resistance and question seemed to strike Erik somehow, because his hold loosened just a little.
"I have every right to," he responded. I have every right to protect myself.
"No." The tears leaked through her closed lids. "You don't. But you're going to." Just do it, already, she thought bitterly. When his hands retreated from her neck, she opened her eyes. The same anger was clear on his face, but he held back.
Wordlessly he moved away. She, in turn, felt her legs give out under her. She was sick of fighting and her loneliness, and as she fell to the floor she didn't feel any fear. A numbness set in suddenly, and Christine felt she'd really died at his hand. Little did she know Erik had used her moment of weakness to move behind her and pinch a nerve at her neck. She slumped down before him, but he made no attempt to pick her up and carry her to her bed. He did not trust himself with her at that moment, and so he chose to run out of the apartment before having her blood on his hands. He drove to the one place he could feel the slightest sense of comfort from.
A/N: Just when they made a little progress, Erik has to get all dark and moody...YAY! Please stay tuned for updates, and leave a review.
