Erik's POV

Christine….Christine! She was all that was on my mind. I awoke to the sound of rain pelting against a window, the feeling of strange blankets beneath my body, and the smell of damp wallpaper. My ankle was throbbing, so badly that it was going numb. I tried to sit up, but an ache tore through my body, one so bad that I collapsed back against the pillows.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake, monsieur Fantome." I knew this voice! It was the same voice I last heard before passing out. I heard footsteps coming towards me, footsteps and something extra hitting the ground. A walking stick perhaps? A staff?….Madame Giry!

"Madame Giry?" her name barely escaped my lips. My lungs felt as though they were being squeezed.

"Yes, who else? You were lucky I found you when I did. Otherwise the boy would have made sure his men caught you."

"What?"

"He paid them to come looking for you and Christine."

Christine! Oh, my poor Christine! I couldn't lay here like this while my angel was out there all alone, possibly being raped by these horrible men. Once more, I attempted to sit up, but Madame Giry's hand forcefully pushed me back against the bed.

"And just where do you think you are going? Blind, and helpless?"

"I have to find her, Madame!"

"Christine does not wish to be found. She is where she belongs, monsieur."

"No, she was screaming! I heard her, you must believe me!"

"Screaming?" the old woman teased. "Don't be silly. Oh, Erik, she was putting on a show. She is back in the arms of her lover."

"She could have left me at any time, Madame. But she didn't. She stayed with me…."

Madame Giry laughed. It was an insulting laugh….how dare she do this to me!

"Oh, Erik, did you truly think that you-" she laughed again. "….and that she would actually- Oh, I'm torturing myself with such humor."

She was right. How could someone like her love someone like me? Perhaps she was where she belonged.

"So what now?" I pathetically asked. "What is to become of me?"

"Well, I have always protected you. I don't see a reason to stop now. When you're better, I'll ship you to another country….Germany perhaps? I'll find you a good home housing other blind men."

"You mean a mental facility?" I corrected. "A place where there are disabled beings, dumped off by their families and being cared for by the scum of mankind? Is that where you mean, Madame?"

"You know you need to go there. You're blind, Erik."

"Do you know what they do to people in those places?"

"You are so ungrateful! Everything is always about you! I could give you up now to the authorities if I wanted to, but I'm not that kind of person."

"You think you're doing me a favor by sending me to a home? Why not send me back to the gypsies then? Both are equally the same. I'll be raped, and beaten….."

"You have no choice, Erik. I cannot continue housing you. Paris will be searching for you come morning."

I heard her walking away.

"Have a goodnight's rest monsieur."

And with that, I heard the door slam shut.

For the first time in a long time, I cried. I couldn't be sent to a hospital. I read about all the horrible things that take place in those facilities. If I were sent there, surely my memories and nightmares would only worsen. Christine had been kind, Christine had never once brought up any of those horrible places. She promised to be there for me, to help me with everything! But it was obvious that I had become a burden. Why else would she want to go back to her boy? She didn't deserve to live like she was, to be stuck helping me everyday of her life. But I made up my mind for sure. I wasn't going to be sent to that hospital. I'd rather die than have to live alone forevermore. There would be no visitors for me, no love, no kindness….no Christine!

I missed Christine with all my heart. I missed having her rub my sore ankle, I missed having her feed me, I even missed her scent. I had to die. I would not allow myself to be taken away. But this room was unfamiliar, this room that I was in most likely held no tool strong enough to do the job. I began feeling around my body, feeling for anything I could tear apart that would cause death. Then, my fingers brushed over the clean stitches from the wound Raoul had caused me below my rib cage. I didn't want my death to be agonizing, but at the moment, I knew this was the only way. I took a deep breath and held it as I dug my nails into the stitches, tearing them apart, and causing my wound to reopen. How badly I wanted to scream, but I continued holding my breath as fresh blood began to flow from my body. I laid there, whimpering and feeling the sticky moisture dripping from every inch of my torso.

All through the night, I laid there, awaiting death as my open wound burned. The bed sheets were drenched in my blood, but sadly, my bleeding came to an end. This was only the beginning of my death, for when morning arrived, I was left with an infected wound and a deathly high fever. When Madame Giry came in and saw what I had done to myself, she scolded me like a little child. Though, she did not attempt to help me. She couldn't get a doctor because her cover would be blown, and with how infected the wound was, she told me it was most likely lethal.

I laid there, my wound burning and oozing sticky puss that reeked of death. I was delirious, feverish, and cold. I was waiting for death to take me, waiting for my life to come to and end, but it was obvious that God had other plans for me, because I wasn't dead yet. Madame Giry wrapped my open wound with a bandage, but did not attempt to do anything more. I had wanted death, but because I had wanted it so badly, God was making me suffer.

The pain was horrible, the fever was even worse. I began hallucinating, hearing voices that weren't actually there; my master being one of them. My breathing had turned heavy, so heavy that I was sure I was going to perrish at any given moment. Then, one night, nearly four days after I had reopened my wound, I heard a voice I thought I'd never hear again. I heard someone approaching from down the hall, two sets of footsteps.

"You wouldn't believe what he's done to himself." I heard Madame Giry say. "I've been waiting for death to take him, but he's still alive."

"How could you not send for a doctor?"

Christine! Oh, I'd know that voice anywhere. But I could not speak, nor could I see her. I was most likely headed to death's door. I heard the bedroom door opening, and I could hear Madame Giry approaching me. Then, I smelled roses….it had to be Christine!

"My God…."

I felt the blankets being torn away from my body, only to feel the familiar soft flesh of Christine's hands brushing over the soaked bandage.

"Erik? Erik?"

I wanted to answer her, but I couldn't.

"Why would he do this?"

"Because I was sending him away to a home in Germany. All of Paris is searching for him."

"How could you do this? I have to get him out of here."

"You can't move him. He'll be barely able to walk. What about a doctor? He'll die without one."

"I have a place I could go." Christine said. "He'll be safe there. Order me a carriage to pick us up within the hour."

I lay there, feeling Christine fumbling around with my wound. I ached from the soreness, as I felt the searing twinge of alcohol being poured over my open wound. My body arched off the mattress, but Christine pushed me back down. My heart was pounding against my ears, I was delirious, but Christine continued helping me. She forced me to sit up despite how weak I was, she even dressed me as her hand supported my dead weight. When the carriage arrived, Christine and Madame Giry held onto me, and dragged me outside. I was bleeding again, making the carriage ride most uncomfortable for me. My head was placed into my angel's comfortable lap, as her hands brushed my hair ever so softly. If I were to die now, I'd die a happy man. Bump after bump, my body cringed and whimpered at the unbearable pain, but Christine was right there to keep me calm.

When I could no longer handle the pain, I blacked out, never knowing if I were going to wake again. But I did. I woke sometime later, feeling needles stabbing my flesh, needles and thread sewing me up again. I whimpered softly, before falling a slave again to the blackened world of unconsciousness. Though, when I woke again, I was once again, in a strange bed with strange blankets covering me. I wasn't sure where I was, but I was so ashamed of myself for what I had done. I had fallen into a deep depression, one that left me wanting nothing more than for death to overtake my body. Christine was with me again, she massaged my sore ankle, talked to me, even though I never spoke back. I believed she thought I was still unconscious, even though I wasn't. Nothing could make me happy. She sat there telling me that she had brought me to an old family friend of her father's. That he was a doctor and a kind man, that we would be safe here because we were far away from Paris.

I refused to eat when she tried to feed me, I refused to speak when she asked me questions. I was a body with no soul left to bring happiness to anyone, not even Christine. My wound healed, but nothing could take away the hole in my heart, the hole that was becoming even deeper each day. Christine didn't love me, I missed my music, and most of all, my sight.

"Erik, I just want you to know that I never meant to leave you." Christine brushed my hand with her own. "I lied when I said that Raoul was on a business trip. I couldn't have told him where I really was. He found out, and ordered to have me brought home. I left as soon as I could."

"Why?" I growled. "Why did you leave him?"

"Because I have a choice, Erik."

"And you are his fiancée."

"And I am your friend. You needed my help, and you still do. Raoul has no say on this matter, even though he tries to have the last word."

"So he doesn't know where you are right now?"

"No, Erik. I ran away."

"You should return to him." I spat. "Go, go back to him."

"I will, but only when I am ready to."

"You should have let me die."

"I can understand why you tried to do so, Erik. But let me promise you that I will never allow you to be put into a hospital. I know what happens in those places, and I will never send my angel to hell."

My breath was taken away. This woman was such an angel, she was an angel sent from heaven, and even if she could not love me, she would always have a special place in my heart.

"Erik, you can't continue to go on like this. I'm here with you, I want to help."

How badly I wanted to comply with her wishes, but I was so disheartened.

"Hey, I have something that will make you feel better." she said, playfully slapping me on the shoulder.

I heard her rummaging through something, before helping me sit up.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer me, only placed something into my hands. My fingers brushed up against the object, feeling wire strings and fancy carvings beneath them. I knew what this was, this was a violin.

"My father's." Christine said. "Would you play for me?"

"I can't," I argued. "I'm blind."

"Here," Christine placed the bow into my left hand, her fingers gently brushing up against my own. The mere feeling sent shivers up my spine.

"I can't, Christine. This is your father's."

"Indeed, it is, but I'd really like it if you played for me."

My fingers brushed up against the wire strings, creating a familiar symphony. Even though I was blind, I was still able to play by memory, my fingers playing for her and only her. Happiness filled my heart as I played a song I used to play Christine when she was a little girl.

"Erik, that was wonderful." Christine said once I was finished.

"It felt wonderful."

"I'll let you play it anytime you'd like. It seems that it lightens your spirit."

Christine took the instrument from my hands, placing it back into its case.

"It's noon, Erik." she said. "Friday to be exact."

"Time goes by so quickly when you can't see a thing."

"Your fever has subsided." Christine said, brushing her fingers over my forehead. "I was worried there for a while."

"My body is in misery ."

"Well, how about something to eat? You must be hungry?"

"I'm tired of eating mush." I complained. "Soup and applesauce is beginning to churn my stomach."

"I think we can slip a little, can't we?" she teased. "I'll make you that stew you told me about, and the herbal tea that helps you sleep."

My heart began to race with joy. Oh, woe to Erik! He doesn't deserve to have such an angel at his bedside.

"You just relax, and I'll be right back."

I heard her walk away, my heart still leaping with joy. She returned a while later, a wonderful smelling scent traveling with her.

"I hope this is as good as you wish it to be." she said, sitting down beside me on my bed. I felt her remove my mask, and place it into my lap before attempting to spoon feed me.

"It's a little hot, Erik." she said. "Just take your time."

The first spoonful was placed to my malformed lips, and I accepted it. My mother's stew tasted wonderful, but Christine's tasted ten times better. She included every vegetable I had told her about, the wonderful taste lingering on my tongue as I swallowed it.

"So, is it any good?" she nervously asked.

"Wonderful. Oh, Christine, it tastes so wonderful."

She giggled, and continued feeding me.

"Good, I want you to keep eating."

And I did. I ate every last drop of it. I ate it until there was no more left to eat, and then I drank the herbal tea she made me. It did the job, and a few moments after sipping the last drop, I began to feel tired.

"I'm proud of you, Erik." she happily said. "You ate every last drop."

I snuggled into my pillow, and yawned.

"Yes, I was hungry. Thank you for making me lunch, it was the best meal I had in years."

Christine giggled, and began tucking me in, the warmth of the blankets cradling my body with comfortable warmth. My fever was coming down, leaving me with the chills. She must have seen me shivering, because I felt her hands begin rubbing the blankets up against my body.

"Erik, if you're cold, tell me. You're shaking like a leaf."

"Just a little."

And then Christine did something I thought she'd never do, she crawled into bed, and leaned against my back, wrapping her arms around my body to warm me. I sighed against her touch, as her hands instantly heightened my body's temperature.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You should rest, Erik. Afterwards, I'll help you to the bathroom and get you washed up."

Christine crawled out of my bed, a gesture that made me sad. I knew she was only doing this to be nice, but I couldn't help but want more, much much more. But now that she brought up the bathroom, I suddenly had the urge to relieve myself. Though, I was too cold and too tired to get out of bed, and holding it would do me no good.

"Christine, before you go, could you-that is," Oh, how was I to say this?

"Yes, Erik?"

"I have to….um…go to the bathroom."

"Oh," was all she said, before walking away and reproaching me a few moments later. She handed me something smooth and cold-I guessed it to be a jar of some sort.

"Let's try it this way." she said. "Besides, all Mr. Lavere has here, is a chamber pot. I don't think you're in the right condition to use that at the moment."

She was right, the last thing I needed was to be stumbling over a chamber pot. It was hard enough to aim for the toilet. The jar was much easier. The only thing I had to do was place my member into the opening. Plus, it was beneath the blankets, so Christine didn't have to leave the room. But, because I was so tired, holding the jar was a task all in itself.

When I was finished, I placed my member back into my trousers, and held the filled jar out to her. She took it from me, and walked away to get rid of the urine.

"Erik, your urine is red!" she gasped. "That's not good. Who knows what kind of infection you brought on your body because of what you did."

She was right, I was feeling extremely weak. Perhaps tearing open my wound wasn't the best thing to do. But as of right now, I was too tired to care. And so, with a full stomach, I slipped away into a much needed sleep, knowing that when I woke, Christine would be beside me.

Please review! This story will get updated more frequently once I'm finished with CUTN.