Wow! The support on that last chapter was amazing. You guys completely made my week. Well, this is a long chapter, but I wanted to continue to move the plot along. It pretty much speaks for itself. The next few chapters will have a slow build in suspense, but I won't give anything away. Thanks again for all your enthusiastic reviews!

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With all the energy she had remaining, Christine pulled the heavy black leather suitcase up the steep concrete steps. A burning sensation still lingered in her throat, and her entire body seemed to ache with the exertion. She heaved a sigh of relief as she reached the landing and stepped out into the morning sunlight. Closing her eyes, she momentarily attempted to compose herself, allowing her heart to resume its normal rhythm. As a stray memory from that morning returned to her, a chill ran down her spine.

To her relief, the black car soon pulled around the corner and to the front of the decrepit complex. Eager to escape the eerie neighborhood, she ran toward the door and flung it open. For a second, she almost expected to see the two yellow eyes looking up at her from the inside. Seeing that the backseat was completely empty, she tossed her suitcase into the vehicle and climbed in. The door locked as soon as she slammed it shut. As the car sped forward onto the streets of the city, Christine lay back into the seat and stared blankly at the opaque divider that separated her from the driver. Subconsciously, she wrung her hands in her lap. What had she done?

She had barely made it back from the payphone in time to grab her luggage and catch her ride. Then again, perhaps she should have been happy that she had made it back at all, with all the strange people that wandered the cracked and broken streets. She'd nearly had a heart attack when an elderly man with one arm had come up behind her and asked for change. Only the sound of Raoul's voice on the other end of the line had kept her calm.

Still, though, nothing that she'd seen in the slums of the city could compare with what had happened in that room. Christine coughed twice, still feeling a rawness within her lungs. The inside of her nose and mouth continued to tingle. What had it been? The powder. And then...then the sheet. The memory came flooding back…..

With one last glance over her shoulder, Christine had opened the door to the forbidden room, the hinges softly creaking in the silence. A single standing lamp cast a soft glow over an array of cabinets and shelves. Slowly, she walked forward, at first seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Several boxes and crates were piled here and there, and what looked to be a small freezer hummed in one corner. The room stretched farther back than she had imagined, nearly as large as Erik's bedroom.

Curiosity continued to pull her forward, and she began to look down at the items on the counters. Various glass bottles and jars sparkled in the dim light, some containing unidentifiable liquids. Labels were taped to the tops of the jars, and she attempted to read the tiny letters. To her dismay, the writing was in a foreign script, and the dark markings made no sense to her. An odor hung in the air, or rather a medley of many different smells that she couldn't identify.

Suddenly, she had noticed several sheets of paper lying atop the counter. Most of the notes had Erik's nearly unintelligible handwriting written on them, but they appeared to be names and telephone numbers. Another was a printed document, and she had picked the piece of paper up into her hand for a closer look. It was a phone record. Her eyes widened as she saw that Carl Piane's name and personal information were printed in bold at the top. That wasn't so unusual, she had reasoned. Maybe Erik had tried to call him about her audition?

Looking down again, she saw several telephone numbers listed on the record. At the very bottom of the document, Erik had scribbled another name down. The writing had been done in sharp and fast strokes, almost having an angry look to it. Darius Weiss.

She had sighed and laid the papers back down onto the counter. None of it made any sense, and Christine wondered if she should leave before her curiosity became the end of her. Her eyes drifted to the back of the room, a darker area that had metal cabinets nailed into the walls. Several more bottles sat on the back counters in a less organized fashion. One was open and contained a grayish powder. Next to it was a closed bottle, half-filled with a yellow liquid.

Slowly, she picked up the open one containing the powder, surprised to find how warm the glass was in the cold room. It was as though the contents were producing its own heat. Bringing it closer to her face, she looked inside at the small particles. They were like pieces of gray sand, clumped together as though they had been moistened.

Likely in fear of being caught, Christine had been subconsciously holding her breath in anxiety for some time. Feeling slightly dizzy, she had suddenly taken a deep breath of air, allowing a strong whiff of the strange substance to enter her nostrils. At first, it was a putrid smell that made her quickly draw back and slam the bottle back down onto the counter.

As the seconds passed, though, the sour odor became a tingling sensation that traveled up her nostrils and back into her nose and throat. The tingling soon became a burning. Her mouth was on fire. Christine began to gag, falling to her knees upon the frigid floor as each choke shook her body. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, and each cough seemed to grow more painful. She clutched her arms up to her chest. Tears ran down her cheeks, and the dark room began to spin in and out of focus. Desperately, she fought for every breath.

Hunched over on the floor, Christine at first wondered if she was going to die. With blessed relief, though, she realized that the fiery sensation was slowly beginning to fade away. Although her chest continued to ache from her continuous coughing, the pain in her throat and nose had become duller. Breathing heavily and with perspiration streaming down her face, Christine rested her cheek on the cool linoleum. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fade out of consciousness for a moment. Slowly, her breathing began to return to normal.

Several minutes later, she sat up and took a deep breath of cool, clean air. The room stopped spinning, and clarity began to return to her. As she stood up, she grabbed onto one of the metal file cabinets to steady her shaking legs.

Her eyes suddenly focused upon the back wall of the room, an area mostly draped in shadows. She blinked twice, wondering if the chemical was having an effect on her vision or causing her to imagine things. Something lay atop the back counter. Something long and bulky.

Something hidden under a crisp, white sheet.

Still somewhat dizzy from the inhalation of the chemical, Christine took an unsteady step backwards. Her eyes didn't leave the motionless object, and her mouth slowly fell agape. As her heartbeat began to race again, she realized that she didn't want to know anymore. She didn't want to know any of this!

Tearing her eyes away from the sheet, she flew out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her with an echoing crash. The eyes of the predator figurines in Erik's bedroom were immediately all around her….watching her….knowing what she had just done.

She had stumbled out of Erik's chambers and back into the empty sitting area. Pairs of eyes continued to follow her from the shelves. Christine turned in an aimless circle, not knowing where to go or what to do. She was alone. No one was there to help her. Even Erik was gone. Panic gripped her.

Raoul Chagny suddenly flashed into her mind, his caring face a comfort to her in all the confusion. Her childhood friend had been there for her all along, trying to help her even when she had pushed him away. Maybe he hadn't left yet. Maybe he would help her understand all of this. But wouldn't it be dangerous to call him? She didn't know, but she couldn't take being alone anymore. The frightening images in the room continued to run through her mind, a soreness lingering inside of her throat.

Gathering every ounce of her resolve and sanity, Christine had grabbed the napkin with Raoul's phone number and some spare change that had been resting beside the hundred dollar bills. Opening the unlocked door, she had raced up the concrete steps. She ignored the glances of leering men and the distant police sirens as she raced through the decrepit neighborhood. Stepping over the cracks and crevices in the streets, she had run to a payphone that lay on the outside of the complex.

The call had been made. In several hours, she would meet with Raoul at The Apollo Hotel. She had chosen the building because of the comforting feel it had to it, and because they could hide in one of the rooms without being seen. If someone she knew was working the desk, maybe they could even go in without registering their names.

As the black car continued forward and out of the city, Christine began to gather her thoughts.

What had been in that room? Had Erik really….? But she had never looked beneath the sheet. What if it was her overactive imagination? The awful chemical had been real, though! It had nearly killed her! But she'd had no right to be there in the first place. Erik had been wonderful to her. He had never hurt her. He loved her….and she…..she…

She prayed that Erik wouldn't find out about this. But it wasn't betrayal, was it? Didn't she have every right to see Raoul? Everything had suddenly become too confusing to handle on her own. She needed to talk to someone else-needed someone else to help her make sense out of all this.

For the rest of the ride to Vermont, she stared out the windows, watching the smaller towns flash by. She attempted not to think on anything that had happened yet, struggling to focus her concentration on what immediately needed to be done. The funeral and task of cleaning out the apartment loomed ahead of her, adding to the heavy weight that already lay upon her shoulders.

Some hours later, the black car pulled onto the familiar roads of her home city. Christine sat straight up and gazed out the window at the large brick houses and white fences that made up the wealthier side. Restaurants and stores she had often visited passed by, including the little café that she and Meg had often gone to between classes. The buildings of the university stood tall over the brown grass and barren trees. College students walked down the streets with their coats and backpacks on. The normalcy of the world almost seemed strange.

When the black car finally turned onto the street of Mrs. Valerius' neighborhood, she looked at the older homes and apartments with slight nostalgia. Slowly, the vehicle came to a halt in from of her complex. She sat there for several seconds, her fingers gripping the handle of the door. With a swallow, Christine finally opened it. "Thank you," she softly said, climbing out onto the pavement. Not to her surprise, there was no response from the front. Taking the black suitcase by the handle, she pulled it out of the car and shut the door behind her, watching as the vehicle drove away and disappeared into the distance.

As she began to walk up the steps to her apartment, a strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She was truly alone, wasn't she? After fishing for the key under the welcome mat, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. A musty smell greeted her, and her eyes took some time to adjust to the dimness of the room. Christine gazed blankly for several moments at her former home, setting her suitcase on the ground. Looking up, she saw that the microwave clock said it was almost noon.

It was time to go to The Apollo Hotel.

Perhaps with the help of her beloved childhood friend, she would find some answers.

Because at the present moment, Christine felt utterly lost.

As she pulled into the parking lot of her old place of employment, a feeling of nostalgia came over her. The building looked extremely welcoming, the red bricks sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. She immediately saw Raoul waiting for her near the entry way, his hands in the pockets of his coat as he stared out the glass doors.

Parking the green Honda, Christine took a long and deep breath. She sat there for several seconds, wondering if she was doing the right thing. But Erik would never have to know.

Gathering her resolve, she opened the car and stepped out. Her eyes wandered around nervously, searching for shifting shadows or dark shapes. All was quiet and still, save for the light traffic on the road beside her. She began walking forward at a quick pace, hoping to draw no attention to herself. Upon seeing her, Raoul immediately stepped out.

"Hey!" he said with a wave. "I was beginning to wonder if you weren't coming."

"Hi!" she quickly replied. "Let's go inside." Taking his wrist and ignoring the look of confusion on his face, she guided him into the lobby. The familiar smell of coffee and polished wood greeted her, relaxing her nerves somewhat. Relief ran through her as she saw that Pamela was working the desk.

"Christine!" her old co-worker exclaimed, hopping up from the desk chair. "My God! It's been forever. Where the heck have you been?"

She shifted, suddenly feeling very awkward. "I've been busy. With school and everything. Could you get us a room? On the third floor? I'll pay later. But…could you…could you please keep our names out of the computer?"

Pamela squinted her eyes in confusion, but her frown became a good-natured smirk as she looked toward Raoul. "Oh. I see what you've been busy with, Christine. Are you on your honeymoon or something?"

Christine could feel her face grew warm as she realized the implications of her request. She didn't have time for this now, though. "No. It's not…..Will you do it? Please, Pamela. I promise no one will find out."

Raoul looked between them in bewilderment, his own face turning a little red. "I can pay now," he said, taking a credit card from his wallet. "But are you sure you want to…."

"No. No credit card. I don't want our names down here. I'll pay later. I promise."

Pamela shrugged. "Yeah. Go ahead. It's not busy today, and the boss isn't here. I'll stick you in room three sixty-six. Sound good?"

"Yes!" Christine exclaimed. "Thank you so much for this, Pam."

"No problem," she replied, handing over the key card. Pamela smirked again. "Have fun, guys."

Christine ignored the comment. "Let's get up there," she said, grabbing Raoul by the hand again. Her eyes darted everywhere. As long as they were in open space, she didn't feel safe.

"What's going on?" her friend asked, as they headed toward the stairwell. "Are you sure you don't want to take the elevator?"

"I don't want to be trapped in a small space," she stated, leading him up the long flight of steps. "The stairs are better." He shrugged, and together they climbed upwards, their footsteps echoing on the linoleum and through the stairwells. At one point, someone came around the corner, causing Christine to quickly jump back. A younger man in a ski jacket gave her a confused look as he passed. Raoul lightly squeezed her shoulder, and they continued upward.

Both were out of breath as they finally reached floor three. Silently, Christine walked forward to their room and took out the key card, sliding it through the slot twice before the door finally unlocked. Raoul followed, watching in complete bewilderment as she walked in and flung open the closet door to expose an empty void of space. She then proceeded to open the bathroom door, revealing a fully furnished sink and bathtub. Just as she started to pull back the shower curtain, Raoul gently reached over and grabbed her arm. "Chris. Calm down. There's no one else here. Would you please tell me what is going on?"

She whirled around to face him, her face pale and her eyes wide. "I shouldn't even be here," she stated, staring at the floor with something akin to horror. "Do you know what would happen if he found out? Oh God. What if he's listening right now?"

"There's no one here," Raoul gently repeated, leading her toward the set of velvet armchairs next to the single bed. "Now tell me what's going on. Let me help you out of this."

She placed a hand to her forehead and brushed the tangled blonde hair away from her face. A distant look entered her eyes, and her gaze drifted toward the window. "I feel like I've been away forever," she murmured. "It feels like I woke up from a long sleep. Nothing even makes sense."

"Are...is someone hurting you?"

Christine slowly shook her head. "No. He never…..No."

Raoul took a seat in one of the chairs, allowing her to collect her thoughts. After glancing out the window for several more seconds, she sat down across from him on the floral printed bedspread. "Please tell me, Christine. We'll figure something out. No matter how bad it is."

She smiled sadly and looked up at him. "But it hasn't all been that bad. I even thought that I..." She shook her head to clear it. "I don't know what I think. I can't even tell what thoughts are my own anymore."

"Just tell me what you can, then. Maybe we'll have more time to talk than we usually do."

Christine paused. A strong need came over her to let everything out, to tell him everything. So much was weighing down upon her that she couldn't even think. His blue eyes were so calm and caring, so reassuring. They were alone, after all. No one would ever know. She took a deep and shaky breath.

"I was on my way home one night," she slowly began. "It was after Mrs. Valerius had first gone to the hospital. There was this country road, and a man was jogging down the street."

Little by little and piece by piece, she revealed everything that had happened- the miraculous voice, the night of her first performance, the strange visit to the cemetery. All came together to form a long story that she had not even pieced together until then. Her friend merely nodded in disbelief, and she realized how completely unbelievable some parts seemed.

Raoul suddenly stopped her when she came to the night of the theater evacuation, the night that Erik had first taken her away. "So wait a second. He drugged you? And kept you there when you tried to leave?" Her friend's eyes widened and an expression of disgust twisted his mouth. "That son of a-He should be arrested for kidnapping!"

"Don't," she softly interrupted. "It doesn't make anything better."

"I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "Go on."

Her face paled slightly when she arrived at the day of the unmasking and the rage that had followed. "He was so angry," she said, staring out into space. "I've never seen anything like it in my life. I should never have done that."

Raoul gently took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, complete disbelief on his face. "It really looked like a skull?"

"That's the only way I could ever describe it."

"My God. And then he attacked you?"

She paused. "He was furious. He yelled at me, chased me and cornered me. But he didn't...he didn't really hurt me, Raoul. He never has." Christine looked to the ground. A single tear streamed down her cheek. "And then after that day, things slowly became fine. He helped me with my singing career. He took me places and spent time with me. Erik would do anything for me."

"But he also kept you prisoner."

She looked up sharply. "But I'm here today. I saw you the night of my performance at the hotel. I'm not a prisoner."

"But every time I see you, you're scared to death that's he's going to find out. Even now." Her friend gazed intensely at her. "If you wanted to leave him, he wouldn't let you. Right?" She averted her eyes and said nothing. "Then it's not right, Christine."

"I don't know," she quickly replied, avoiding the topic. "But that's not the end. I wasn't even planning on calling you. It would have been too dangerous, and you had your trip. And everything was fine. But I didn't know what else to do."

"I'm glad you did call me. If I would have known half of this..." He tapered off. "So what else happened?"

Christine withdrew her hands and folded her arms into her chest. She took another deep breath. "I was looking for him in his room this morning. We hadn't said goodbye, and I wanted to. He wasn't there, but this door was open." She paused. "I should have never gone in."

"A door?"

"Yes. A hidden door." He squinted in confusion. "Don't ask, Raoul. I don't even understand half of the things that go on. I try not to think about all of it."

"So what did you find?"

With her gaze focused upon the ground, she revealed her discoveries. "But maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe it was a cleaning chemical. And I never actually looked under the sheet. Maybe I'm imagining everything. Right?"

Raoul shook his head, suddenly looking very tired. "I have no idea what you saw in there, but we've got to get you out of here. God knows what else he's doing. I can't believe some of this. Let me call the police or something."

"No!" she gasped, grasping onto his arm. "Don't call the police. Don't do anything. Promise me you won't do anything."

"Why? Look at all this guy has done to you!"

"Stop it! You can't understand everything. I don't want anything to happen to anyone."

"Me or him?"

"Either of you," Christine replied, looking him directly in the eye.

Raoul slowly placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Then let me get you out of here, somewhere far away. Maybe he'll forget about you after a while."

Her blue eyes widened. "I couldn't do that," she murmured. "I could never. You don't know what it would do to him."

"You're his prisoner, though. Don't you see that? I'm afraid he's going to hurt you. Or worse!"

She shook her head and clenched her fists. "I…I couldn't." Freedom from all of this? Normalcy. Her mind spun. "It would hurt him so much."

"But what about you, Christine?" Raoul gently asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What about what you want? Do you want to stay? Do you love him?"

Her gaze went toward the window again. Slowly, she stood up and walked over to the vent underneath it. "It's cold in here. Don't you think so? Let me try and get the heat on." Her fingers fumbled aimlessly over the knobs and buttons.

"Christine?"

She bit her lip. "Please don't ask that question."

With a sigh of resignation, Raoul rose up from the armchair and walked to where she stood. Still staring out the window, Christine leaned back against him for a moment, her head tilted against his broad shoulder. "How long do you have here?" he asked, gazing out the window with her. A light breeze had picked up, swaying the bare branches of the maple trees out front.

"A week," she softly replied. "For the funeral. And to get things cleared up. I can't believe she's really gone."

"I'll stay here with you. Maybe we can figure something out by then. Maybe after you have some time to think without…him."

She turned to face him, tears glistening in her eyes. "It might be dangerous if you stay. If something were to happen…."

"I'm staying here, Christine," he firmly replied. "It's one man, right? And someone has to help you out while you're here. I mean unless you don't want me to."

"No. I do want you to. It's just…." She sighed softly. "I don't know."

His warm hand wrapped around her own. "We've got a week. We'll figure something out."

Christine didn't protest. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax and to forget all of the events that lay menacingly in front of her. She ignored the conflicting feelings, watching as the afternoon sun began to make its steady descent in the blue sky.

As she wrung her hands together, the onyx ring began to loosen and slide off her finger and toward the cracks that made up the open vent. With a gasp, Christine quickly grabbed it with her other hand, tightly fitting the piece of jewelry back onto her finger. A deep sigh of relief came from the back of her throat. Raoul looked down at the glinting black stone.

"Christine," he said softly, looking at her weary and ashen face. "There's no one else here. Only you and me. You're safe."

She tiredly nodded, attempting to believe his words of comfort. But even as Raoul wrapped a strong arm around her waist, her heart still jumped at every drifting shadow.

With a growing feeling of dread, she knew that a choice would soon have to be made.