Relief floods my system when I see her go and talk to the managers, and then once again when I see her name on the tentative program. She has decided to sing the show, and I know that she will choose me.

She loves me.

But ultimately, she loves me music. And I know she cannot be away from my music, and I am willing to use that against her if that is what it takes to get her back down here with me.

.

For the first day of rehearsal, when she comes in her dressing room, I am behind the mirror and ready to pounce on her, but she enters followed closely by Raoul de Chagny.

"And I can wait for you each day," he is saying, an uncharacteristically concerned look on his face. "And if you grow tired, you must let someone know so you can sit down-"

"Raoul! I am not sick! I have done this before, you know!"

"Yes, but it has been a few months, and I know it will be difficult getting back into it," he says. "I am only thinking of you."

She sighs, but it is more of a loving, impatient sigh than an exasperated one, and she reaches out her hand and pats him fondly on the chest; my fists clench. "Raoul, I know. You do take care of me so well, and I adore it. But not with singing. You must let me alone when I am singing."

He bows a little, almost mockingly. "Of course, my love."

I sneer at him. Even hidden, I am acting like I do not care of him, that I am not affected by every little movement he makes. Christine seems quite at ease around him, and it simply throws me as I try to comprehend how sudden this change in her occurred... but with a sad thought, I realize that there was three whole months that she associated with Raoul while I was not watching. Who knows what happened between them then? Who knows how comfortable they really got...?

A new thought flashes into my mind that makes me grit my teeth together and spin furiously away from the mirror. Did she sleep with him? Did she let him caress her, did she let him undress him with his hands?

I quickly emasculate him in my mind and tell myself that it has not happened, that she would not do such a thing, that three months would be too short of a time for Christine to... Ah... I cannot stop thinking about it!

Raoul kisses her and she tilts her head up dutifully as she bid him farewell. The door has barely closed when I leap out and snatch her, pushing her against the wall.

"Did you sleep with Raoul?" I snarl, and inch from her face.

"I-Erik, no! Of course not!" She squirms, and then looks up at me with shadowed eyes. "How could you ask such a thing! We are not married! One does not sleep with a man she is not married to!"

"You sleep with me!"

She blushes a little. "Well... that is different. You are different from normal people."

For some reason, her words only make me grip her harder. "Because I am ugly? Because I am ugly, it is okay to make love with me, because what-? I do not count?"

She turns away. "No! That is not what I mean. You are just... You and I are just different."

"Stay with me. For the next four weeks during rehearsal. I will take good care of you and help you rehearse your role."

She twists away from me, still not looking at me. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asks in a hurt voice. "You know I must refuse. You know I have to stay at my house, or Raoul will think I have been kidnapped or something?"

"When have you ever stayed at your house?" I ask in disbelief. "Even before me, you stayed at the Opera overnight, hiding from the cleaning crew... And then you stayed with me. Why would you rather be in an empty house? Unless- you are staying with Raoul?"

"No, no!" she says as I advance towards her.

"Why so frazzled, dear?"

"Because what you are saying is not true!" she says angrily, and to my discomfort, her eyes are filling with tears. She snatches up her script and royally leaves the room.

.

Rehearsals progress painfully slowly. Sometimes I watch, sometimes I do not. Sometimes I stay at home and work on my music. Sometimes I pace and talk aloud, imagining what I would say to Christine if I were meeting her for the first time.

.

While she is singing through Il était un roi de Thulé, I happen to look up and watch as Raoul is coming in, talking swiftly to one of the doormen, and then going over to one of the side doors to where the manager's office is.

So I follow.

"Gentlemen," I hear him say as soon as I am close enough. "I must speak to you about a matter of great importance concerning our young star."

M. Moncharmin gives M. Richard a bewildered look. "Then go ahead and say it, if you please!"

"I have cause to believe that she is being bothered by a man who lives in this theatre."

My heart drops in surprise at these words, and without warning, a cool fire begins to smolder inside my stomach. Oh, and he was telling Christine I was make-believe, was he? What man tells his future wife something is not real when he thinks it is real himself!

"A man who lives at the Opera?" Richard says in shock.

"Oh yes. I believe he is hiding here, and makes prey upon young girls, such as our Christine!"

I laugh at this.

Moncharmin and Richard look as though they are having similar sentiments. "What madness is this?"

"I swear, it is true, sirs. Christine has told me of them! He lives underground and he has carried her away on more than one occasion to teach her music!"

The managers exchange another pair of startled looks. "Well, there is nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"You do not feel alarmed by this? You do not think this is a matter for investigation?"

"I think you are listening to a child's overactive imagination," Richard said shortly. "I have heard many stories about mademoiselle Daae, and her stories. She is quite the dreamer- so I hear."

While they are talking, I lift my hand up and examine it closely. I am real, am I not? Why is everyone so convinced I am simply a figment of her imagination?

"I urge you both to look into this matter," Raoul continues, looking undeterred from their lack of enthusiasm on his little project. Only after a couple 'very well''s and 'of course''s, does Raoul finally leave.

I go back to Christine, but she has finished her run-through and it sitting off the stage, staring dreamily into space.

.

As last week of rehearsals come to a close, I finally get her alone without Raoul in her dressing room.

I am overcome with a need to simply touch her. I feel as though I have been without her for so long, that every added day I go without her simply adds to the magnetism I will have towards her when I finally see her. Sometimes, even when she is not with me, I feel like there is nothing I can do - sit, sleep, stand - without wanting to have her next to me and close to me.

I all but fall into her arms, and then slide down to her feet, crouched before her. "Come back with me," I plead. "Oh, Christine, I beg of you... When I am not with you, I am so lost, I am so lost! There is nothing I can do if you presence is not beside me. Leave the show behind and come with me!"

She touches the top of my head gently. "You wanted me to be in this show," she reminds me. "I am doing this for you. I am singing for you."

"Come with me."

"And leave rehearsals? And abandon the show?"

"Yes. Yes. For me."

Her hand continues touching my head soothingly. "And what if you abandon me?"

"Christine," I say, my anger growing in my throat. "I never abandoned you- never!"

"You locked me out and made me believe you were not real."

I-I did not mean to-"

I clutch at her again. I cannot bear her disappointment.

"Can you tell me you love me and mean it?" she asks patiently.

"It is not my fault I cannot love!" I gasp.

"Everyone can love."

I throw myself completely on the ground, laying at her feet. "Christine, Christine," I say desperately. "How I am obsessed with you! How I care for you! How I am interested in every little thing you do! That is love, is it not?"

She shrugs daintily. "I need you to come to that conclusion." She stares at me for a few seconds, her eyes looking young. "Oh, Erik," she sighs. "How I cared for you, too."

.

The night before the shows opening, there is a dreadful downpour outside that has been making many people late. It is not like Christine to be late to a rehearsal, no matter what the weather may be. I pace anxiously, waiting for her. If she is not here in five minutes, I will go out and fetch her myself.

Five minutes come and five minutes go, and I am about to go charging into the streets, when handsome Raoul arrives with my perfect Christine on his arm. Her eyes are straight ahead and Raoul is continuously glancing around, as if looking for something out of place.

I stalk them all the way into her dressing room. Raoul opens his mouth to say something, but she quickly waves her hands to quite him down. "Hush!I-I must prepare myself for rehearsal! I am so very late. I need a few minutes alone to compose myself. Then I will be right out."

He stares at her intently, and then leaves without so much as a farewell.

Instantly, she turns to the mirror and I am crawling out, triumphant.

"The show will run, and then you will come back to me," I announce.

She reaches her hand out. "Will you... be at the rehearsal today?"

"Of course - why would I not be?"

She draws back, looking conflicted. "Oh! I-I do not know."

I come closer to her, reaching for her hand. "You will come back down with me, and all will be as before. Only better. Only better! I will make it even better for you down there. And you will be the happiest of women."

Her eyes grow soft, but she reaches her hand out to me consolingly. "Erik, I have to tell you something-"

I shush her. I just want to hold her.

"No, Erik, this is serious-"

"I will never ever lock you out again," I assure her, holding her to me tightly. "Never ever. You can stay with me for eternity, and you never have to do another show again. You can sing for me, you can just keep singing every day for me, I swear I will never grow tired of it."

"I have to talk to you about tomorrow night-"

"Tomorrow night will be the most beautiful show ever, and you will sing it all for me, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"And then you will come down with me"

"Yes, but only if you-"

"And everything will be as before?"

"Erik!"

At that moment, knocking sounds at her door, and it is Raoul, calling through the door, "Christine? Christine, are you dressed?"

She pushes me towards the mirror, and I climb back in it, smiling at her and still clutching her hands. "Erik, listen to me, you have to help me-"

"Christine, don't worry about anything, all will be well. All you must do is sing for me, and everything will turn out wonderful."

"But Erik, Raoul-"

The door jiggles. "Christine? Are you alright? Who are you speaking to?"

"I- I am coming!" she says frantically, and I let her go and swing the mirror shut.

.

She runs off onstage to do pre-show rituals, and I watch Raoul from a corner. He is chatting amiably with some men and sipping a glass of champagne, but he keeps glancing nervously up at Christine and checking his pocket-watch. I grow bored of him and go to meet Christine. To my surprise, she walks off the stage to the makeup station and begins to cry.

And damnit, Raoul is there before I can go to her. I want to wring his neck just for being so annoying.

"Christine, Christine," he says soothingly. "All will be over soon."

She says nothing, but turns away from him and presses her hand into her face so he can't see her tears. This pleases me a bit, that she is refusing his attention- but then I wonder if she would refuse me, as well.

"If this is too much for you, you can come away with me now," he says.

She shakes her head blindly, reaching out for a hand towel. "No, no. I am singing tonight, Raoul."

I step closer.

"I do not want you to feel like you are obligated-" he begins, but she swats him away.

"I want to sing, can you not understand that, Raoul?"

He retreats from her, looking puzzled and nervous by her behavior. "I will come fetch you at the curtain as soon as it closes," he promises. "And then we will be gone before anyone can notice us."

"Yes, yes, right, of course."

A strange, numb feeling rises up in my chest and goes straight to my fingertips. What are they talking about? What does that mean? He is coming to take her after the show-take her away from ME?

When I have enough sense to focus in on them again, Raoul is giving her a little kiss and then he departs, while she turns away, looking nervously into the mirror in front of her. I burst out from the shadows, just as she turns and walks into the crowded backstage hallways.

.

My mind explodes.

My heart shatters.

Christine is running away tonight with Raoul.

.

My mind explodes again.

My heart cannot shatter anymore.

Christine is running away from me.

.

I might have killed Christine herself if she had reappeared back offstage. I search for Raoul with a vengeful eye, but he too has vanished, somewhere into the growing crowds of the theatre. Lucky for him, eh? Lucky indeed!

My first insticnt is to attack. It doesn't matter what it is, so long as I can attack it. But these moments fly quickly by and then I am left with an empty feeling of despair and pain. I do not want to attack Christine, no matter what she does to me, but that does not mean she is entirely innocent. Why is she fleeing me so quickly? She did not even give me a warning. This is what I get for giving her the lessons she needed to become a star? What has Raoul ever given her that could begin to compare?

He can love her...

.

And even though I feel as though I am standing there for hours, it has only been a few seconds. My heart still pounds in absolute shock and almost a sort of joy that I have finally caught her in such an explicit betrayal.

.

Another few seconds pass before I realize, wait a moment, why am I just standing here fuming about it? I am not a man of words- I am a man of action. This is my Opera House. You go when I say you can go. I do not have to let Christine leave, it is that simple. Perhaps I was foolish, making a big deal about how she must choose between Raoul and I. The correct answer is to choose me, and there is no other option. There is no other option! Why did I even offer another option? Is she so stupid that she will actually consider that, too?

A plan is rapidly set. It can be dreadfully simple. No one has to be hurt.

This all could have controlled in the first place. I should have never let her out of my home once I had her down there. It is all my fault, clearly all my fault. I gave her freedom, and this is what she chooses to do with it?

Walking with a purpose now, I go straight into my shadows, through the wall, and to the gas light square. I knock out the teller quite easily, and laugh gaily when I see just how easy this whole ordeal can be.

I wait, just a little bit, pacing and singing to myself. There is plenty of the shows beginning that Christine will not be a part of. The first act is almost over-she will be getting into costume and vocalizing now.

Slowly, I step out of the secluded area and go upstairs walking right out in the open. No one even looks up at me, the few people who are still out in the lobby hardly seem to notice me storlling by. The de Chagny box is all the way at the end, the second closest to the stage. In my head, I see myself killing Raoul without a sound, simply cutting off his air supply for a few good minutes, and then maybe slamming his head into the floor a few times for good measure. I have to blink a few times to get it out of my head, and remember that I am just imagining it, and not really doing it. Sometimes I get so confused about what is reality...

I pass his box simply because I do not care about him and he does not care about me, and I will make sure that he will no longer care about Christine.

.

I will make sure everything goes according to my plan!

.

I grow impatient. This first act is much too long. Perhaps she does not even need to be onstage.

I appear without warning in the middle of the backstage commons, sliding out through a concealed entrance. There are only about half a dozen people there, and every single one of them lets out a shriek that can certainly be heard out on the stage when they see me. I am completely covered, so that they might not even know I am human, if the are standing out of the thin light. They scatter, even as more heads pop in to see the commotion, and I walk calmly out through the dressing room area, where everyone has rushed out of to see who screamed.

Christine is in the doorway of her dressing room, her eyes closed, trying to sing a little under her breath while one woman sticks a pin in her wig and another wraps a shawl around her waist. I smile grimly at how silly she looks in the costume, but smile even wider when I think how pretty she is underneath all that nonsense.

I let her take just enough steps on the stage that she will be seen.

And then , watching her from the gas light square, I push the runner down.

And then she is unseen.

In the confusion, everyone is yelling offstage in hushed voices, trying to not run into anyone, while I evade them and feel Christine fumbling around in her ridiculous costume in the dark. I reach out for her and she pulls away and says, "Who is that? What happened? Did something go wrong?"

I chuckle, and she instantly realizes it is me and hesitates. "What are you doing here..?" she asks in confusion.

I grab her hands a little rougher than I intended and pull her with me.

"Where are we going? Erik? Erik! The show, Erik, what are you doing?"

I shove her into one of the trap doors just as the lights fly back on. I jump in behind her and seal it.

.

Unbelievably, she starts to cry. "You ruined the show! Why did you ruin the s-?"

"Shut up," I tell her cheerfully. "Oh darling, just be quiet and do not speak. Just never speak. Simply look at me and do as I say, and you shall be perfect."

"W-what... I..."

"Shhh," I reiterate, pushing her ahead of me. "Let's go home, you and I, and we never have to leave again."

"Erik-"

I grab the back of the dress and slam her into the wall- she screams and throws her hands over her face. "Why are you not listening?" I ask sharply. "All I ask is that you not speak, is that so much to ask for?"

The cheap fabric tears in my hand, and I am thankful that now I will have an excuse to take the ugly thing off when we are home. She spins around, leaning away from me, and I see that her face is cut up from the uneven slopes on the wall, marring her pretty forehead and nose. This makes me absolutely furious that my possession is harmed and not perfect. Grasping her arm firmly in mine, I drag her along behind me.

"Erik, you must let me speak! You must tell me what is going on, what happened to the show.. our plan, Erik? Our plan? You told me I would do one show and then I could come down here forever..."

I reach my hand back to hit her, but I stop myself in time. "OUR plan? OUR plan? Yes, Christine, what about OUR plan?"

She recoils, and looks at me with wide eyes.

"And what about your plan with Raoul, hmm? What about HIS plan?"

At this she blanches, and cries, "Oh Erik, I tried to tell you, I tried last night, remember! I wanted you to save me from it!"

We approach my house, our home. I open the door and point her in. "Get in," I say quietly.

There is something unreadable in her eyes; maybe she knows that when she steps in, she will never leave again. I wonder how it feels, to be her?

I am so obsessed with her...

Silently, she obeys.

.