This chapter was extremely difficult for me, as it is kind of like the turning point in the story. Please tell me exactly what you think when you review, because I'm really not sure about this chapter. When Erik is confessing, I used the plot of Susan Kay's story, but I did change a few things.

Thank you thank you thank you to each and every one of you who reviewed! I love you all!

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, but this plot is mine! Back off! Lol.

Chapter 16: Confessions of the Heart

Erik sighed as he stood motionless in front of the St. Sulpice church, which had been the only one that Christine knew of that was not populated by people all hours of the day, because of it being located in a small square. Christine had met with the preacher, Father Gustave, and had told him discreetly of their position and of Erik's mask, and he had sworn to secrecy. Christine waited patiently by Erik's side as he fought the battle raging inside his head. Why he had agreed to this, he was still having trouble figuring that part out. He continued to stare up at the imposing building, the bile churning in his stomach and his fingers twitching as they hung by his sides. He studied the building, and couldn't help but notice the grand and complex architecture of the building, complete with two massive rising turrets on either side.

He unconsciously bit his lip, a habit he had never been guilty of, as he looked around the church to see if anyone was witnessing his embarrassing fright of the building. He wasn't sure if the sight of the empty street calmed or infuriated him, for a small part of him wished someone would discover them standing there like fools, and force them away.

But no, this had to be done, or he would never be granted his wish to marry Christine. He fought the urge to stomp his foot childishly at Christine, insisting that it wasn't fair, but that would be incredibly foolish, since Christine was just as stubborn as he was and would refuse to leave. Christine really brought out the worst in him.

Groaning, he adjusted his mask, before taking a haughty step forward away from Christine and towards the church. Oh, no, she would not be granted the pleasure of seeing him frightened. He continued walking gallantly up the steps, his head turned upward and a firm line set across his mouth, and he felt a sudden burst of confidence. If he could just keep up this act, he might be able to get Christine to leave the room while he was confessing! The last thing he wanted was Christine running from him because of his past.

His steps faltered as he heard Christine's muffled laughter behind him. He turned back to look at her in surprise, and found her standing right where she had been, hand covering her mouth, her face slightly pink from the force of her laughter. Her hair had tumbled loose from the red ribbon it had been held in, and her brown locks fell around her face, them too shaking from her laughter. Finally, blue eyes twinkling, she dropped her hand from her mouth, and ceased her laughter. Sighing, she walked up the steps towards him and intertwined his fingers with hers. He had still been in shock from her laughter, but when her fingers went through his, all shock faded into adoration.

He gazed down at her, a smile still painting her features, and he fought the urge to ask her what she had been laughing at. Was she laughing at him? Surely he hadn't done anything worth being laughed at. He had simply been walking toward the church! Or, maybe it was because. . .

Thankfully she answered his silent question for him. "Oh, Erik, the way you walk, you would make a fine aristocrat." Oh, so she had been mocking him!

"My dear, I must ask. Is that a compliment, or a taunt? If it is the latter, I assure you I know the quickest way back to my lair from here, and I may just become so irritated that I forget you were here and leave you on the steps." Christine frowned at him, but her smile returned as she saw the corner of his lip turn up in his signature mark of sarcasm. She suddenly realized she had done it; She had calmed Erik's fears, and he might be a little more willing open up to her now. "Do not be sour, Erik, I meant it in a perfectly. . honorable manner."

Erik had to laugh at this. "Oh, is that so? Well then, I guess I shall not forget you, after all." He smiled, but it faded as he realized they had reached the door. Not knowing what to do, he raised his hand to knock, but it fell to his side as a certain idea recurred to him. He turned back to Christine, and she recognized his face of resignation immediately. Whatever it was he had decided, there would be no getting around it. She waited patiently, silently praying he had not changed his mind.

Closing his eyes, he muttered a prayer that Christine would accept his decision without argument. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes to find Christine staring at him expectantly. "Christine, I do not want you present while I am confessing. It would hurt you far more than you think it would," She tried to argue, but he raised his voice and she quieted. "My past is not one of pleasure, but I suppose you have figured as much. What you have not been able to comprehend is the depth of that hurt, on my part. My past depleted me of any mercy, civility, or remorse for anything other than myself. It is the only thing that has ever hurt me, at least the only thing you do not know of." Christine bowed her head in shame, knowing that she was the other things that had caused him pain. She had expected this, and sighed as she realized she would have to grant his wish.

"Fine, you childish man, have it your way. But I may die of boredom waiting for you to return, and if I do, your conscience will forever be scarred by the fact that I was killed as a result of your foolish pride." And with that, she turned on her heel and strode away to sit on the steps. There was silence as she sensed Erik standing there a moment more, before she heard the door swing open and Erik's footsteps disappear inside.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Erik's hands started to sweat as the heavy wooden door closed behind him with a loud thud that echoed throughout the wide, sweeping halls. Erik's mouth fell open in awe as his eyes swept over the glorious chapel. His hands stopped their furious wringing as he was drawn into the perfect majesty and grandeur of the building. The ceiling rose into a magnificent arch, he guessed about 100 feet high, and was decorated with stain glassed depictions of various entities from the Bible. The walls were made of white plaster, and huge, gilded windows lining them let the sunlight from outside spill through onto the tiled floor and mahogany pews.

Erik was completely stunned. He had heard that the church was the second-most popular in Paris, and that it had been built in 1646 by a famous architect, but never had he expected it to be such a beautiful sight. At the altar, dozens of golden candelabra's held white, flaming candles that lit what part of the chapel that the sunlight from the windows did not reach.

What drew Erik's attention the most, however, was the elegant organ that rivaled Erik's own, positioned directly across from where the choir would have practiced. Erik guessed that this must be what made St. Sulpice so popular, as he could only guess what beautiful music leaked from its musical being. For a moment, Erik lost all of his regret for being in a holy building, where he certainly felt he had no right in being at all, while he become more and more enraptured by the building every second. He never even noticed the door creak open behind him, or the small woman that slipped inside and hid in the shadows.

Finally, after several minutes of his silent admiration of the building, his eyes came to rest on the small, frail man, in preacher's robes, sitting at the altar. The man did not seem to notice him, and was crouched in front of a large, stain-glass picture of Christ, and his lips were moving swiftly in silent prayer. Suddenly, the altar seemed miles away from Erik, and he stumbled backwards as his breath caught in his throat. This wasn't right. He did not belong in a house of the holy; he hardly was one who should be blessed by someone as religious as a priest.

He squeezed his eyes shut as his legs started to tremble beneath him, and he reached out a hand to grab the pew. He moaned as visions of Christine ran through his mind, and he collapsed on the bench. Fearing the preacher might have heard him, his eyes flashed open as he searched for the man. He breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the preacher, Father Gustave, Christine had called him, still crouched before the altar. He buried his head in his hands. He couldn't do this. He had committed far too many crimes to be forgiven. He had murdered, stolen, cursed himself as well as God, and Christine expected him to be forgiven? For some reason, Erik felt no hope. He should leave.

He started to rise, but Christine's words flew back to him before he could start walking towards the door. She wanted to marry him. She loved him. She loved him. On their way to the chapel, she had told him repeatedly, "Anyone who is worth loving, and you Erik, most definitely are, deserves the love and forgiveness of God." Maybe she was right. With a defiant air, he turned around, and began walking hesitantly towards the altar. But before he could make it two steps, images started to flash through his mind.

A scream, and an innocent man falls dead at your feet. Blood, oh God, so much blood!

Another murder, another innocent. Fathers, sons, rich, poor, dozens upon dozens of innocent people fall dead at your feet.

And why? Because they're normal! Because they were granted what you always yearned for: a ordinary life, with an ordinary face! What have you achieved Erik, in murdering those people? The satisfaction of ridding the world of one more innocent person? The joy of seeing a once normal face, mutilated by strangulation and as disfigured as your own? Did not that bring you great joy? And now, you hope to take away the innocence of another, and this time, a woman! Christine is an innocent flower, a beautiful woman whom you do not deserve. She will fear you, Erik. She will learn your secrets and run from you. You will be alone again, and you will kill.

Hundreds of bodies, covered with blood and frozen fear on their faces, continued to flash in his mind. No! That was years ago, he had changed! A sob choked in his throat, and finally the preacher looked up. Fear. There was fear in his eyes. Erik saw it! But he didn't care. His head was full of voices, screams, cries of help. Yells of children, his own murderous laughter, and that damned lasso cracking the neck of yet another victim. Tears were flowing down his cheeks now, and he could no longer see the preacher trying to mask his fear. He had murdered so many times, he had committed countless acts of heartless murder. And not one of them was guilty of a thing.

Not once since the last time he had killed in Persia did he allow himself to think back on all that had happened. Only then, as he allowed the memories to flood back in, did he realize the full extent of his horrendous crimes. They suffocated him, beat him, made him feel as if he were one of his own victims. He tried to focus on walking to the altar, but it seemed as if he had not moved a step. Then, more memories forced their way in. Morphine, sweet and tempting, flooded through his memories just as the drug had flooded through his veins countless times. And Nadir's son, oh the poor child, who he had also killed. . .

Erik couldn't even allow himself to think of the boy's name as the silent tears became gut-wrenching sobs. They were pitiful sobs, tears that he had been holding back for nearly fifteen years. Finally, he collapsed at the altar, the preacher rising beside him in shock, and buried his face in his trembling knees. He cried for what seemed like an eternity, ignoring the calming words of the priest. Never, in his whole life, had he felt so weak. He had let his defenses down, and now he was paying for it with tears of regret. Oh, the cruelty of the world! The tears shook his tired form and exhausted him as nothing had ever done before. In the darkness, a woman cried with him.

Finally, after several minutes of soaking in his misery and tears, Erik raised his head from his knees. Not even bothering to wipe his face, he turned his head toward the preacher, who was regarding him with a mixture of pity and helplessness. Erik's vision was still partially blocked by a new onslaught of tears threatening to overtake him, but he forced them down so as to focus on his duty. Forcing his voice to not break, he opened his mouth to speak. The preacher waited patiently.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

XxXxXxXxXxX

In the shadows of the church, Christine shed silent tears as she witnessed the strongest man she had ever met let his defenses drop. Never had she seen her angel so vulnerable and weak, and she could only squeeze the pillars on either side of her to force herself to remain unseen. This was torture. She never should have forced Erik to do this! Erik was strong, and if something as small to Christine as confessing your sins made Erik weaken, then she underestimated his desire to forego the event. She was truly an evil woman. In her head, she struggled with her all her might to send a mental apology to Erik, thinking that he might be able to hear it if she tried hard enough. She gave a quiet gasp as he collapsed at the altar, and forced her eyes shut as Erik's body continued to tremble.

She wanted to run to him, hold him in her arms and kiss all his pain away. But she couldn't force herself to move from her spot. She opened her eyes, and watched the preacher for his reaction, but saw only remorse. She had told him that Erik would probably be hard to convince to open up, but never had she been more wrong. Father Gustave, however, was not letting his surprise slip. He watched Erik in silence, every once in a while offering words of comfort. Christine's heart went out to the poor man, and she gave a silent prayer to God that he would bless Erik's soul. Her concentration was forced back on Erik, however, when she heard his strangled voice.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

So he was going to confess? Christine wasn't certain she wanted to hear, but she had to as payment for her forcing Erik there in the first place. If Erik was going to suffer, she was going to suffer with him. Christine remained silent as Erik started his tale, his voice weak and trembling.

"When I was born, my father was already dead and my mother-. . .my mother despised me. I know nothing of either of them, other than what I have told you. My mother gave me a mask for my birthday, before selling me to the gypsies. I became known as a freak, and people came from miles around to stare at my hideous face. Do you know how hard it was, to wake up every morning, numb from the cold and laying on a pile of hay like an animal? I was the Devil's Child, and for six years, that was how I lived. Bringing amusement to some and horror to many with my hideous visage. And God would never grant me the freedom of death. Oh, how welcome death would have been! If only I could have fallen asleep on that cold floor and awoken to the bliss of Heaven." The preacher seemed slightly taken aback when Erik said this, as if thinking Erik had never once thought of Heaven. Erik gave a small smirk.

" As surprising as it may be to you, the fact is this: for years, I believed. I believed in God, and the bliss of Heaven. I had heard some of the gypsies reading out loud from the Bible, the very few who believed in the spiritual world. And I thought that I may be granted the pleasure of living forever, if only I kept believing. I guess what kept me believing for so long was my music. I loved to sing, and I could compose things in my head out of thin air and remember it forever. Right now, I could recite every word of the first song I ever composed. At the time, I thought this a gift of God. And I thought, as long as I kept this gift, God would be with me."

Christine smiled through her tears. She had never known Erik had believed. But obviously, something horrible had happened to thwart his belief, and she struggled to hear his almost inaudible voice as he continued. The preacher remained silent, seemingly pondering every word Erik said and nodding in understanding. Once again, Christine felt a strong liking for this preacher.

"However, about six years after I joined the fair, I escaped with the help of a young girl. She never told me her name, and never once did she look at my face, but I knew she pitied me. To this day, my opinion of her is clouded. I should thank her for freeing me from that prison, but what did it achieve? It led me onto my demise. I left the girl, once I was freed, after expressing my gratitude. She seemed surprised at this, as if a creature such as myself was incapable of such a thing." Erik chuckled.

"She was the only person who ever pitied me, and yet, she feared me. The cruelty of the world is endless. Anyhow, after the fair, I traveled. I snuck onto steamers and trading ships which took me to nearly every country in the world, and I got to witness first-hand the beauty and splendor of the world's most exotic places. But the place that appealed to me most was Persia. I eventually took up residence there, serving under the shah. Soon after, I abandoned my belief in God. I admired the shah, for he exuded such a sense of power and control, that of which I envied and wished to possess myself. I stole objects of great value from him, as well as his mother, and for years, went unnoticed. But that isn't the only thing of importance that happened there.

"The khanum was rather fond of me, and hired me as her professional magician. Seems entertaining, no? It was horrid. She ordered me to kill; kill anyone whom she desired to be killed. Some of them not even guilty of anything! But I obliged. I was a heartless, cruel creature, destined for Hell whether I believed or not. So I killed hundreds of people, simply for the amusement of a wicked woman." Erik's voice cracked as more tears threatened to spill.

In the darkness, Christine stood with her mouth open in shock, and her heart practically bursting with the pain of Erik's words. She gave a quiet moan as she realized why Erik was such a reclusive and stubborn man. The pains of his life were endless. He had murdered so many people! She knew she should despise him, yet she felt only pity. She bit her lip as Erik continued. Still, the preacher remained silent.

"After a while, the shah seemed to notice the disappearance of countless objects of value to him. At first, he didn't suspect me, as he thought me such a faithful subject. But after a while, all suspicion turned to me. He lost all respect he might have held for me, and ordered me to be killed. I knew my life was fixing to be over, and I hardly cared. In a way. . .I guess I was thankful. I was nothing to the world but a burden. But, however, a young man, who turned out to be the commissary of police, freed me.

"Unlike the young girl, I did not express my gratitude. I was a cold, emotionless shell to the world, drowning in my own self-pity. Nevertheless, I left. Nadir, the man who freed me, came after me a few years later, and found me where I was hiding. To this day, I do not know what his purpose was in seeking me out, but I do know he was a hunted man because he freed me. I allowed him to travel with me, and he brought along his son, whom I now choose not to speak his name," Once again, Erik's voice cracked, and he was forced to turn away from Father Gustave to wipe at the tears underneath his mask. Christine figured Erik must have been very close to the boy, but she feared what had happened to make Erik so miserable at the mere mention of him. Her question was soon answered, as Erik continued.

"His son was very talented. I taught him a lot; about music, literature, science, architecture, and I-,. .grew rather fond of him. He was like my son, and I loved him as such. Nadir trusted me with him, which was a mistake. A few years into our journey, Nadir's son became sick with pneumonia. At the time, neither I, nor Nadir, knew the cure, so we were forced to watch him suffer."

Christine remembered Erik having to bring Raoul to Nadir's house when he caught the illness. She felt a pang of sympathy for Erik. She thought she knew where this was going.

"Eventually, his illness became so bad that he began to cry out at night, begging to be put out of his misery. I was at a loss. What was I to do? Nadir was suffering just as much as I was, if not worse. I can only imagine what it must have been like, to have to watch your son dying every day. One day, my misery was so great that I,-. . .I put him out of his pain forever."

Christine gasped at this, and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, thinking Erik must have surely heard it. But he kept his head to the preacher, and she realized he must not be aware of even Father Gustave's presence. She briefly saw the preacher's eyes avert toward her, and she saw him nod in understanding. Christine sighed. This was absolutely dreadful, yet her heart went out to Erik. She loved him so much, and she understood what compelled him to end the child's misery. But Erik was pained by it; that much was obvious. Christine would not be surprised if every night, he dreamed about his own hands going around the child's neck to commit that deplorable act of righteousness. . Erik continued, and Christine stopped the ranting in her mind so as to hear the rest.

"I simply added an extra dose of laudanum to his water that night, and I never even told him. What would it matter?" He said this with a twinge of hatefulness toward himself, and once again Christine felt her heart constrict. "Nadir found out, however, and he no longer trusted me. I became his enemy, and he cried out for his son every night. Oh, the pain I put that poor man through! Eventually, I could no longer take it, and fled Persia to return to Paris. I spent the nights on the street corners, and stole from merchants to feed myself. Eventually, I stumbled across a metal grate on the side of a building, which turned out to lead straight to the cellars of the Opera House, where I took up residence and became the Opera Ghost."

Erik fell silent, knowing the preacher probably knew the rest from newspaper articles and street gossip. Not sure what to say, he started to stand to leave, thinking his job was done. However, the preacher's voice brought him back to his knees at the altar.

"Are you regretful for the crimes you have committed?" The preacher's voice was kind and knowing, and he showed no horror at Erik's vile acts. All fear of Erik had evaporated the second his tears had started to flow. Erik closed his eyes, and more tears leaked out from underneath his eyelids. He nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady. "More than you could ever know," he whispered. The preacher nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. He pitied this man, and he would do everything in his power to bless him with God's forgiveness.

Erik started to speak again, and the preacher's eyes shot up to his mask. The mask was such a misleading characteristic. This man's life was destroyed because of a mask. The Devil's Child, The Opera Ghost, monster, murderer, and countless other titles had been tacked to this man's soul, and they were names that would forever be engraved upon his person. Even though he had killed so many people, they were not upon his own wishes, but those of the woman he served under. His whole life was a complete horror. No one should have to live a life like that without God. Father Gustave listened to the man with heartfelt pity.

"Christine, Father, Christine saved me. She loved me as none other had before, and she chose me, me, above the Vicomte, who was rich and handsome! Never have I allowed myself to love someone as I have loved her, and if she had denied me, I would have died. But she didn't, and now, she wishes to marry me. That, I think, is an act of God. So now, I am forced to believe in his existence."

Christine smiled. She had never heard Erik so open with his feelings before. And to hear that she had been his salvation, was enough to bring her to her knees. Father Gustave nodded.

"Yes, I believe Christine has saved you, and I could not be happier that your confession has once again made you believe. Your life has been a horror from the moment you were born, and I believe you earned your happiness. Do not blame yourself for the pains of the past. What's done is done, and it is time to live in the present, with Christine. And I will forever pray that God will bless your souls. However, do not think that it was simply God's work that made her love you. She saw past your disfigurement from the very beginning, and saw the man inside. That, she did on her own accord, and be thankful for her. She is truly a treasure." Erik nodded. The man was certainly right about that.

"Thank you, Father, you flatter me." Christine's voice caused Erik's head to flash to hers in shock, before he remembered his face was covered in tears. He turned away from her, wiping away the tears as Christine knelt beside him. Once his face was fairly dry, he turned back to her with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"Christine! How could you? I told you to stay outside!" Then, at Christine's tender smile, his face fell, and he gave a soft moan. "Oh, Christine, you heard everything. Now you will never wish to live with me. I was such a monster, such a vile and disgusting creature! How you can even stand to be in my presence. . ." He was cut off by Christine's warm embrace. Father Gustave, feeling uncomfortable, rose to allow the couple their privacy. Christine looked up briefly to thank him, before returning her face to Erik's chest. "Erik, for the last time, I love you, and I always will, no matter what your crimes have been in the past." Erik's hands were around her waist, gripping her as if she would disappear if he let go. She lifted her head, and placed her fingers on both sides of his face. "I do not fear you, nor will I ever. I am sorry you have had such a horrid life, and I hope to make up for it with out marriage. If, that is, you will allow me."

Erik's eyes closed and tears of bliss began to roll down his cheeks. He was no longer embarrassed of Christine's seeing his vulerability. What did it matter, if she loved him as she said she did? Erik laughed then, a small laugh of sheer relief. He took her hand, and lightly kissed the back of it. Christine smiled at him, tears coursing down her own cheeks. He put his forehead to hers, and she kissed his trembling mouth as he held her face in his hands. As she drew back, Erik smiled.

"You truly are an Angel."