This took me ages, people, but I needed to do a lot of stuff and the ending of this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I'm planning at least one more chapter and an epilogue, but who knows, maybe the plot will stretch a bit more. I wanted to do this uniquely.

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Chapter IX

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On and on Christine banged against the stone walls with her tiny fists, to no avail. Shrieks and wails coming from her throat grew continually fainter, until she felt that she could perhaps hurt her vocal chords. But it didn't matter to her – she wouldn't ever sing again. Women couldn't sing in church anyway, not openly. After the first hour, she had exhausted much of her strength and collapsed to the floor in dry sobs. She cried for herself, mostly. She had been so stupid to believe… to imagine…

And Raoul – goodness only knew what became of him. Somehow, she had no trouble imagining Erik "dispatching" of her runaway fiancé without the slightest problem. There was nothing she could do, but it only deepened her misery. There was no possible escape route from the chapel except for the door, which was locked tight, and the windows, which were too high to reach and too small to crawl through. She was trapped.

Wild thoughts raced through her head. What would become of her? Surely no wedding would take place now – even if she had been willing to accept the compromise before, Erik's rage at her betrayal would mean little more than enslavement for her. After all, when had she ever had the strength to stand up to him or even object to anything he said?

I'm afraid of you, Erik. She didn't even dare say it out loud, so sore was her throat. Only wails similar to those of a dying bird escaped her throat. I'm afraid because I cannot hate you but I'm too weak to love you… but I can't pity you anymore.

In silence she sat for a while, shivering, though the room wasn't cold, curling into a ball on the floor. And then, after minutes of silence, she realized that there was yet a way to escape the prison.

X X X

As soon as he had left the chapel, the urge to scream his lungs out in burning rage was almost too strong to control. The pitiful wails that were only whispers to those outside the chapel were almost enough to drive Erik crazy, especially since he knew what must be going on inside. Nevertheless, he strode away from the door after securing it with one of his tricks, ensuring that no one would be able to open it from wither side without breaking down the door. He wanted to leave her there for at least an hour, striding into the church to await the moment.

Leaving Christine locked in an empty room with only her cries to accompany her required tremendous strength of will and had he not been so filled with the image of her happy face when she was with the Vicomte de Chagny, he would have perhaps lost the power to punish her at the moment of her capture. But even the promise hadn't been strong enough to bind her. Even that vow and the ring that she lost… he had collected it easily enough after they left. It had been the moment of a dreadful revelation, but that it had come soon enough was, in a way, a blessing. He now knew to whose image Christine turned whenever he attempted to make her understand that she had been the only creature to move him in his long, lonely life.

Ever on the move, ever fleeing, he had never lasted long in any country or town. Only at the beginning, after his desperate flight from the monastery, did he have any faith in the human race. It had vanished quickly enough. Not all humans were like Sister Antoinette, the kindly nun had taught him to love God. And Sister Antoinette had lived in folly. To love God was to love punishment without a crime, injustice…

And Sister Antoinette was dead. Old age had certainly taken her by now. Did she now know all the answers? Had she looked her God in the face and seen what she believed she would see? He would know soon enough. He had had quite enough of life by the time he had encountered Christine. The fact that there still existed a being he could cherish and care for was so overwhelming that he had forgotten his bitterness for a while.

He couldn't, wouldn't accept that God would decide to torment him further by giving him a Daphne that had no other wish than to flee from him. But then, he was more Hades than the bright sun god Apollo from whom the nymph fled in myth.

The church he entered was empty, due to both the lateness of the hour and the fact that everyone still hurried around their homes to complete the daily chores. Erik didn't kneel in front of the altar as he approached it, as any good Christian would. His eyes simply traced the outline of the fine work of art, then rested on the wooden cross and the Christ upon it. He didn't view it with anger or hatred, just a weary, wary acceptance of its presence there. There had been a time when he would have been able to renounce the bitterness that had carried him through his life for the past decades, but for now, there was no other path than the one he had set his feet on long ago.

He then remembered the time. Christine had been locked in her prison for over an hour… and strangely, he didn't feel remotely sorry about it, only a slight twinge of regret. Then again, she had probably suffered enough and exhausted herself by now – there wouldn't be a problem with her anymore. And she would need strength for the journey, exhaustion wouldn't do her well. After a moment of thought, he decided that such a scare might be all too much for the poor girl. After all, she was still a very naïve creature. He might as well let her out.

Withdrawing from the church, he approached the sealed chapel and easily opened the door, only to almost jump back in horror. The sight of Christine, blood streaming down her face, crying, but nevertheless attempting to force herself to bang her head against the wall again, was paralyzing, even as she turned her fearful eyes to him, the source of the intrusion. Recovering quickly, Erik was at once within the room, tearing off a stripe of the blanket he had left her and wrapping it around her forehead to stop the rapid bleeding. Thank goodness it hadn't occurred to her to hang herself on the clothes he had left her.

Christine didn't even struggle as he half-dragged, half-pulled her away from the wall and safely to the center of the room. She was still crying soundlessly and beneath the blood, her face was clearly chalk-white.

"Why have you done that?" Erik demanded, a bit harshly, grasping her shoulders. Her frightened expression made him soften his tone a bit. "The bruises will heal, but you will have a headache and feel nauseous for a few hours."

And then, resoluteness sparked in the trembling girl. "Let me go." she said almost inaudibly. "Please let me go."

"You don't understand in the least, Christine. The noble Comte de Chagny, in an attempt to prevent a scandal, proclaimed you a witch that poisoned the mind of his gullible younger brother. If his servants catch you, I can promise you that you will never feel cold again." Erik paused, studying her for a moment. "Is it so terrifying a thought to go with me? Can't you even bear the thought of being my wife, so you choose such a desperate way to kill yourself instead?"

"I couldn't… deceive you anymore." Her lip trembled, but she didn't look away anymore. "I couldn't… I love Raoul…"

"But of course." Erik gave a sneer, "A proper romance needs a sacrifice, doesn't it?"

"Please, Erik… let me go." Christine continued, as if she hadn't heard him at all.

The yellow eyes studied her for a moment, weighting the opinions. She was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the truth… or perhaps she was simply so naïve. But then again, if he wouldn't let her see for herself, she would never fully understand. She would never realize that the world she had known was beyond her reach now.

"Very well, Christine." She didn't seem to believe what she was hearing. "I will let you go. Go to your Vicomte. I release you." Christine's eyes lit up hopefully, but still there was doubt behind them. "Go now… go…" Erik stood up, turning away from her. "But…" Christine had been about to stand up and froze as his gaze fixed on her again. "If you need me, all you have to do it call for me."

It seemed that Christine wasn't even able to think, let alone speak in response. She finally straightened up, she lowered her head. "Thank you," she whispered, "I was afraid… thank you, God bless you a thousand times, Erik." The door was unlocked now and she slipped through it without a glance back, hurrying away, though she swayed a bit because of her nausea.

Erik didn't turn as the door closed behind him, only closed his eyes for a moment.

X X X

Marguerite almost didn't believe her eyes when she saw the figure of Christine, in bloodstained clothes, hair flying loose and a cloth wrapped around her forehead, which was apparently the source of the bleeding, stumble into the kitchen. She sprang to her feet from her chair and moved to support the girl till she sat down at the nearest table.

For a while, it seemed that she would still faint, but as Marguerite fetched a bucket of hot water and a clean cloth to clean the wound, Christine seemed to regain her strength. She wouldn't answer any questions, simply continued asking if Raoul was back yet.

The chambermaid was perplexed. "Christine, the Comte and probably all of his men went away to search for Raoul and you – that you ran away together was the scandal of the neighborhood, if not the city!" she gave a little gasp, "You mustn't stay here! If the Comte returns and finds you here… Christine, they said you are a witch!" Marguerite lamented, biting her lip. "I don't believe that, trust me, but when it comes to keeping a scandal at bay…"

Christine nodded, staring into space. "Erik said it would happen."

"Erik? Well, never mind now, you need to get out of here." Marguerite said at once. "You said you had a fiancé – go away with him, start a new life, it will buy you freedom, as long as you are away, they can say you just vanished in a puff of smoke or something."

"He let me go." The blonde whispered, "So I could be with Raoul. And so I'll stay."

"You don't understand!" Marguerite cried in despair. But before she could elaborate, just as Christine turned her misty gaze to her, the sound of horses was heard outside. People rushed around and before Marguerite could notice, Christine, with a surprising vitality, rushed out of the room.

Marguerite quickly came to her senses and ran after her screaming: "Wait!" to no avail. It was a surprise that stains of blood didn't appear behind Christine, so fast she appeared to be running. She ran into the courtyard where the riders were just dismounting. The Vicomte de Chagny was among them, but didn't look remotely pleased. But then he spotted her and immediately rushed towards her with a cry of her name. They met in a crushing embrace that was almost painful and only when they separated for a moment did Raoul see that her face was bloody.

"Christine… Christine what has happened to you?" the Vicomte asked, running a hand through her hair gently but fearfully, "You vanished… who has hurt you." And then he realized… "Was it he? Was it the man you gave your word to?"

The girl smiled, despite her horrible visage, as if to say that all was all right now that they were together. "No, he didn't… no… he let me go to be with you…"

"It seems the Devil indeed punishes those who fail him." Said the voice of the count from nearby and arms wrestled the two apart. The Comte de Chagny, Philippe, was eying Christine with anger as he stepped forward, ignoring the struggling of his brother, who shouted that Christine was innocent. "For your sins against God, Servant of Lucifer, fit punishment would be to be sent back to your black master." He noted coolly. "However, God teaches us to be merciful. After putting into consideration that you have been thwarted and perhaps fought against the orders of the Beast, as Lord of the land, I have decided that you should be given over to the holy women at St. Mary's, to join their ranks. Perhaps they can save your soul and redeem you in the eyes of Our Lord. The Mother Superior has received a letter from me and should reply any day. I am confident she will accept you into their order after an exorcism is performed. Until then, you will be kept in your room."

"No!" Raoul shouted, struggling again, but the Comte turned on his heel and proceeded to walk back towards the estate, not sparing a glance at anyone.

Christine didn't struggle. She didn't even seem to realize anything. Only when the key locked the door of her prison of a room, then, immediately, she began to scream out Erik's name. Whether he heard or not, she didn't know or care. Only he had told her she was to do it when she was in need… and thus she did.

But no one answered and it seemed that she was once again sealed in that chapel.

She was to become a nun! She was to spend her entire life in a prison such as this one! Erik had been right that she shouldn't have returned… from what she overheard by listening at the keyhole, Raoul had been locked away just as she, until the letter from the Mother Superior would arrive, since he was probably still under the effects of her "enchantment". Marguerite wasn't allowed to visit her, food was brought by a guard who didn't even look at her. Three days went by in this nature.

And, on the morning of the fourth, she was awakened rudely by a loud crash from somewhere in the house and a series of connected screams.