Don't be expecting quick updates those of you that are reading. I wrote this during the span of three days when I haven't had rehearsal and a load of school work. I actually now have midterms to be studying for and all that jazz. Also, I couldn't stand just having one review after two days. I'm already supposing this won't be as popular as my last piece, but that's okay. I'm going to still continue writing just to get my mind off of life for a little while. I would really like reviews though. I know people are reading, just why can't you press that little button and tell some thoughts!!! Is it the writing, the characterization of Erik or what?! I MUST KNOW. Thanks for reading.

~The Phantom's Flutist~

Chapter 2:
Dissonance

It simply wouldn't be satisfied... that yearning sensation I feel every time I see Christine's face. One day I may not be able to see it again and in which case... I'm not quite sure what I might do... Sink as low as the familiar depression or perhaps finish off my magnum opus and be finished with life altogether with one large blow of morphine. No... Life can't possibly be finished if God was kind enough to have granted me Christine to save me from my hell. First, I must save her from hers.

My ideas of saving her were scaring myself... I could bring her to my home and care for her instead of those "foster parents" that they insist on taking. They don't help the poor girl, and many simply ignore her because they don't know how to put up with her depression. I can be familiarized with such things, because my entire life I've felt as lost as she has, until now. The only thing that I need to accomplish now is how to win her over.

I couldn't take her yet because this was her last home before going into that dreaded group home where she will certainly collapse altogether in. I had to wait until she was old enough that she might not collapse in front of me... I could never forgive myself for such things. Ever. I don't know what I would do if she were to cry in front of me... I had to save these thoughts for when she would be coming here. I knew it would take a few months to prepare. I had to get her new clothes, new everything... I became hot just thinking of it. I would only help with it... Make the decisions Anne couldn't, only support financially, of course. I had to give her only the best and have her completely comfortable so she could tell the difference between what she had been living in to what she comes to now.

But what of the mask? It was the very thing I was afraid of... She would question it and it might frighten her. Her first impression wasn't going to be what it actually was because it's usually not the first thought of many. She might be different... Sometimes I do hope that she would question it because maybe if she didn't... I might have lost her completely. She's not the little girl anymore, I knew that... In fact I witnessed her turn into a young woman... a very beautiful young woman... The angelic voice is no longer housed by a acne-faced, clumsy, and timid fourteen-year-old. The middle of this summer would be before her eighteenth birthday, and it was then that she would be put out of the foster care system entirely. I had to take her before then... but how?

It didn't take long to figure it out. She had almost been kicked out by the last house she stayed in, and it was the time that she was going to the group home no matter how much I bribed the system. They would take none of it. I had to go by a weaker source, one that wanted the best for Christine... I had to go straight to her social worker, Antoinette Giry and convince her to bring her to me. I would not steal her, no matter how much I wanted to. She would be mine soon enough. How much I wanted to hold her... to touch her and make sure she was real, or make her smile... if she would let me, and hear her laugh for myself to make sure she still held the capability to do so. I had everything ready and prepared for her to stay at my home... I would give her lessons every day and teach her music at a grander scale, and give her anything she wanted... I'm sure I would do anything for her at that point.

The day came after what seemed like eternity and it came with me as a nervous wreck. I've been told possibly a thousand times or more that first impressions stay with a person as long as they remember. Unfortunately, I've never been able to come up with something as convenient as making my own first impression in a positive light. This impression, however, was most likely the most important. She would be arriving at around noon, and it should be raining, and my butler would be going out to grab her bags with an umbrella for her and send them to her room as I would be obliged to show her my home. I had to warn myself of how she might react with intimidation, or probable nerve, but... it did not matter to me. She would be here stepping foot into my home, and that's all that mattered.

I reasoned with myself all sorts of things that I knew would never go over with myself the moment she steps foot inside. It's incredible how much I let my guard down for her... and I've never met her before and yet I know practically everything about her. She shouldn't know that... She should never figure out what I went through in order to create this... obsession of mine...

The small Volvo turned at the corner of the street and the rain seemed to pour down harder as I watched from my office window, her watch clutched in my hand with a death grip, reminding myself of why I was doing this. If I were in any other time of my life, I would take the rain as some sort of bad omen, but since omens never have wronged me before, I shouldn't be quick to judge such things... especially when Christine is involved. The thought of her name made my heart drop down to my stomach, and the nerves kicked back in like an annoying fly that won't ever go away. Would I always feel like this? Is this how it feels to be around someone you adore all the time? Certainly not... though who am I to know?

I came to the top of the grand staircase and waited where no light shown just so I could prepare myself quickly when she first stepped in... I waited for another eternity which is how long this day has been lasting for until she finally stepped into my world... And I never thought that I would take this back, the wonderful moment when I saw her face, her wide brown eyes, and the locks of curly hair that seemed to be dampened by the rain and it glistened when the light of the chandelier hit it just right. I lost all ability to breathe, to think, or move. She was real and beautiful, and, above all, she was mine.

She reminded me of a deer stuck in headlights, actually. Her eyes were wandering over the entire foyer, and remained planted on the chandelier.

"Here she is, sir," Damon declared, seeing that I was standing there, as pathetic as usual. It was then that she looked directly to me, her eyes trailing from the railing to my mask. I caught my breath.

"Take her bags to her room, Damon." I ordered, and moved down to where she stood, her eyes never leaving me. She immediately flitted when I moved my gaze to meet with hers for the first time. I never thought of my first words, come to think of it. I actually never thought I would possibly get this far.

"Christine," I began saying her name aloud was simply exquisite in itself, for it's so musical. I astounded her, I could see it in her features. "I've been waiting for you to come. I'm sure you'll find my home very comforting compared to the houses you've been to." She only stared back astounded, still. My voice seems to always have that peculiar effect on almost anyone I meet except for... Well, I'll get into that later. I've always have been curious as to how my voice could bring someone to become obedient, or leave them in a trance-like state. I could never find out. Unfortunately, I would probably lose my voice forever seeming how it's not possible to take out my own vocal chords to study. Anyway, the point is she didn't answer.

"Would you kindly make any acknowledgment that you are listening?" She only nodded.

"Could you say something?" It was slightly comical... which was better than the worst case reaction I could have thought of.

"Yes," She replied shortly, "I mean... Sorry, I've never been in such a home before," She said,and gave this adorable blush as her hands folded nervously behind her back.

"It is very beautiful, isn't it?" I muttered, ignoring the fact that this might have well been the first mansion she has ever stepped foot in. She's probably more distracted by me than by the home, judging that she hasn't made another effort to look around. I don't take pride in that.

"Very much," She murmured softly. Her nerve was absolutely endearing, though.

"Would you like me to give you a tour?" I asked, tilting my head to the side...Perfect! Everything was going alright so far. Everything was going to be alright as long as I had my say, and had that strict control over her. She nodded again. "Follow me, if you will." I offered, and she willingly did so.

It was sort of annoying because as we walked, I felt her eyes literally burning a hole in my back as she followed me closely behind as if frightened she might get lost. It was kind of comical in a way, the sudden fear that glinted in her eye when I turned away and she stood sheepishly there, her hands folded in front of her as if she had done something wrong.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked fluidly.

"Yes, I'm fine... just... eager." What an interesting answer. She really was excited, wasn't she? The genuine curiosity was so alight in her motives, and I was overjoyed to show her what I could give to her, shelter and support, and much more... I had to be gentle because she was so breakable. So easily breakable, and I could already tell with my first words with the girl. The unmistakable depression was still there, except I had brought her an enlightening time to come over her.

There was still a pang in my chest every time her mouth hung open when she saw one of the greater rooms to hope that she could like me just as much... that there was someone gracious enough to lend her this much when she was an orphan. And maybe one day, I don't know how soon, she might bring herself to love me just as much as I loved her. Or not... I would be fine with her companionship. Just as long as she would be the one to be the first one to lend some kindly words... To hear from her words of reassurance that I am still human too would let me be content enough to die and be done with my hell. I still wanted more, said the selfish man.

I only let her see about half the house. There are things in this home that... well, I wouldn't want to think I had. Especially with her now keeping residence here. After giving her directions to where the dining room would be and where she will be having dinner and I would give her what she would be going through while she stays here. She turned around and faced me, her mouth agape for the umpteenth time tonight. "Why... why this much? I-I don't even know you..." She shook her head in disbelief, and her hand padded along the comforter of the bed. "Why should you take me in... and give me these things... It... makes no sense." It was nice to hear what she was thinking, at least. But I was afraid I couldn't give her an exact answer, but it was enough and it would be truthful.

"I have my... sources in money, and I can do whatever measures it would take to make you comfortable as possible, and it wouldn't cost me much, really." I sighed and watched her cross her arms in something like contentment, I suppose. I suppose I could answer her second question honestly. It's not like I would let her leave me any time soon if she would be frightened. "And... I do know you. You've never met me, but yes, I do know you." I sighed.

I left her to her room, and shut the door behind her. Clutching my sides, I leaned against the wall next to the door, and waited to hear her reaction, rather than see it. Her room would be her privacy, no matter how much work I put into it to make it comfortable. My mother's bed and my mother's vanity would be used, and filled in the drawers, and just about the only mirrors in the house would be kept there... Just about, at least. The other "mirrors" she would never know about. There was a vague reason why they existed, anyway. There wasn't anything that she could communicate with the outside world in there, though.

No books... which was selfish of myself, I admit, because I just hoped that if she ever came to the point that she stayed in her room, it would lure her to come out and I might see her then... She loves books a lot, you see. I remember when she was younger and she just moved in with a new family, I think the only thing that kept her level was a monthly trip to the library. She would come to the house with a backpack filled with books of all sorts, and she would go with the only friend she had. As she grew older, I noticed the school work piled on and she no longer had time to read the dozens of books, and instead read the school-regulated excuses for books. I felt bad for her. I provided her with a better library, though... I can't wait to see her reaction.

I waited in the living room with a book in my hand but not actually reading it. Instead, I felt like a little boy waiting for Christine to come down the stairs and I could speak to her. My heart raced just waiting for her to come... curious to see her visual reaction of what lie in her closet, what was in her vanity and her room altogether. It was a beautiful room, I had to admit. I never had a clue as to why I included it in the designs of the house because it was unlikely I would ever have guests until she came along. I suppose it's part of my natural intuition. Or maybe not. But I thought she would like it very much for it had a wonderful view of the garden below and the shrubbery. It also faced the back yard which was kind of more like a karma thing than anything else. Maybe if she saw the interior beauty, she wouldn't leave. As long as I kept on this perfect mask... she would never be frightened and I might never have to see that look on her face again.

I heard her footsteps pad through the foyer and she opened the door to the living room, and looked inside to survey it as well, naturally amazing her. She then turned to the wrong way to which was the opposite of right. I chuckled to myself as I moved to stop her, but slid back down when she jerked around with a stunned gasp.

"I'm sorry to have startled you."

She backed away, once more reminding me of a deer lost in the light.

"No, it's nothing really... just... easily startled, I guess." She shrugged, crossing her arms again. She did that because it might protect her from any sort of embarrassment. It was the same sort of thing as nudging your ear, or shuffling your feet with her.

"Here, let me give you a hint." I pointed to the door opposite to the one she stood before. "That would be the dining room, and over there, where you are standing, is the music room."

She gave a cute little blush again and this time looked to her hands, as if unable to look at me again in utter embarrassment. I had to contain my laugh. How she amused me!

"No, it's fine. I sometimes get lost in this house too, even though it was I who designed it." I noted, to impress her further. Her entire face lit up and she went into this little anecdote that had related to her father, while complimenting myself during the entire thing. I didn't know this little detail, so I was able to listen while nodding and care, though every word she said to me I felt like I should document. She made this creative metaphor, and every time her father came up in the anecdote I could see her eyes carry a light that I haven't seen produced in her for all these years... God, how it is beautiful...

"Well, many thanks, as well. I'm glad you enjoy it." You have no idea. She seemed to let it drop,

"Might I escort you to the dining room, then?" I questioned. She shrugged. Good, at least she was getting more ways of responding. I outstretched my hand to let her take it, looking into her big eyes. When she reached out and touched my hand, it seemed like a jolt of electricity came through me. It didn't last very long because she put her hand back. My hands are unnaturally cold... I think I tried to study that somewhere, and it turns out to be some sort of circulation problem. When her hands were so warm, it only makes sense that she was shocked. "Oh, forgive me," I pleaded and put my hand back to my side. They do say cold hands, warm heart. But I suppose it depends on what you would call warm..

It was then that I noticed she was wearing the earrings I once gave her after I gave her the cell phone. Which reminded me that I had to check on whatever she did with that thing. I'm not sure she'll need it any longer because I'm here and the only protecting she may ever need is from myself. I didn't want to think about it right now. I was focused on having a dinner with her. Not like I was going to eat, but still, it made me feel like a man when I held the door for her, when I pushed out her chair, and pushed her in, and then sat down across the table from her.

Once more, I looked at her eyes when they lit up and saw the meal prepared for her. She was simply engulfed by it. She almost immediately dug into it when she looked at me and then her shoulders squared, and she put the napkin in her lap.

"Are you not going to eat?" She asked looking at me expectantly.

"I've already ate." I lied. I actually don't really eat that much. I never found it needed most of the time. When I was young, God help me, my mother actually feeding me was my punishment. Food just never thrilled me. Just like sleep. But that's another story.

"Oh," She stated simply as she did. She bowed her head slightly and muttered something with her eyes closed I couldn't really hear. It took me a while before I realized she was saying grace over her food, and then crossed herself, and began to eat. She was always a strong Catholic. The crucifix around her neck, I don't think actually left from being around her neck. Ever. I knew not to get her many necklaces because she might never wear them. It was still nice to imagine, though.

It was awkward to begin a conversation because she made it very well known that she simply did not being watched while she ate. I couldn't tear my eyes from her... She was sitting here at my table. Besides, I kind of enjoyed the expressions she made. They were cute.

"Don't feel so intimidated. I would like you to feel as comfortable as possible here."

"Can you not... stare at me?" She asked in a rush of annoyance.

"Forgive me," I apologized, looking up to the chandelier, but it wasn't as dazzling as her facial expressions.

"It's fine," She mumbled. Time to move onto a new topic.

"Tell me, Christine, do you still sing?" I asked. She looked at me as if I was speaking another language. She swallowed nervously.

"Sing?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, I heard you used to sing all the time." She was acting as that part of her life where she lit up the stage never happened. She was obviously confused. It was then that I noticed that, no, she didn't forget about most of her life. I wasn't supposed to know about most of her life. Well, it's not like she could take off running now even if it's revealed the way I would rather her not. I figured one day, when she developed to warm up to me, hopefully, I would settle her down and admit to her all the wrongs I have done, and maybe, just maybe, she would forgive me and move on with our relationship. It was at this time that I had myself assured she could love me and later return my affections. I should have known better.

"How did you know?" Ah, one of the dreaded questions. I could make a legitimate excuse.

"It was on your application, dear," I lied smoothly, "it's not that hard." She looked befuddled and I could see her beginning to question it, but then let it pass. I think she was much more willing to shoot me down then let something as inconsequential as the possibility I, um, did a little research. She lowered her head and chewed on a piece of lettuce before answering.

"Oh," She whispered dully, "I haven't sang in three years." She sounded so heartbreakingly monotone about it. "You see, sir, when my father died... I think the music that I loved went with him into his grave." She swallowed a sip of her drink. "I'm sorry."

I let the silence pass as she ate. I had to make the offer now until she's made her mind she doesn't want to sing at all.

"You may call me Erik, by the way, Christine." I noted further, trying to at least get as many words out of her as I could.

"Erik," She whispered, nodding. My heart skipped a beat the first time she said my name. Usually when a person figures out my name it's not in such a gentle whisper most of the time.

"W ould you mind if I tutored you?" I'm pretty sure I would mind tutoring an emotionless doll, but it was Christine. She could sing out her depression... Or if she didn't know how, I'm possibly the best person to help her out. I would do anything.

"Tutor me?" She repeated before taking a bite of the meat, her hand lingering in the air.

"That is what I just said," She glared at me, and waited for me to say something that wouldn't ridicule her, "I don't have to," which is an absolute lie. This is part of the reason why she was here! I had to make a substantial offer up front. She must do this. "but I thought it might get your mind off of everything for a while. I find music does that for me, and I've never taken in a student before."

"You're a musician, too?" She was astounded, obviously. Ah! See! I was right. I can bring her enthusiasm out of her because of her father.

k"Skilled in music more over any other, ah, talent of mine, I believe. But, yes, I am a musician... of sorts."

"Like all music? Or just one instrument?" She radiated curiosity. Perhaps this is a problem.

"Just about everything, but opera is my specialty." Well... not everything.

"Opera?" She repeated. I bit my lip to keep from saying another bad response. "Uh... sure... you can teach me."

Success!

"Wonderful."

I don't think I could have taken much more, for I wasn't used to being around her, so I led her to her room when it was getting late. I had the urge to kiss her forehead and bid her goodnight like a parent would... or maybe even a lover... but, of course, that would be forward.

Besides, the next day I would have a full day of being with Christine. Well, I have spent full days watching Christine... like the holidays when she didn't have anyone I was there...

I had to go out, though, on business that isn't important to my story. It was another one of those annoying early-morning phone calls that simply beckoned for me to come at inconvenient hours and during these inconvenient times, especially with Christine here. Odds are, she'll be asleep still when I come home. No matter, I came in during the night simply to watch her sleep and put a note beside her bed to let her know I may not be there when she awoke. She would know there are maids here that could take care if there's any emergency which was all fine, but I really hated leaving her.

There's something to be said about watching Christine sleep though, all curled up and resting peacefully into the comforter. The way she breathed evenly, and the all-around content feel she had was obviously not something she had in another home. She likes it here, I could tell. She actually does, I think... Maybe she liked me, as well? I felt like a little boy receiving a new pet for the first time—they either liked their new habitat or the peculiar little boy was going to be devastated. Christine, of course, wasn't a pet. I loved her more than I love Ayesha of course.

I watched her for a good hour, and before I left, I wanted to stroke her face, and comb her hair out of her angelic face, but I was terrified of touching her. What if she awoke somehow and found me in her room after I had told her I respected her privacy? Also, touching her would be a dramatic sin... How could I touch someone as perfect as Christine with my ugly self? It was just unreasonable. It was like a big ugly caterpillar falling in love with a butterfly. It makes no sense. I chastised myself, and moved out of her room, leaving the note behind for the following morning.