1A/N : I must apologize for the lack of updating. School is getting to me, and the new braces and palete expander don't make my days easier. Family troubles also take their toll. So please bear with me while my life decides to attack me.

Please read and review. I need feedback to know if I am still on the right track. I already know what is going to be in the next chapter, I just have to write it.

Thanks to my beta once again. Anne52! You Rock!!

Chapter 8

"I will not stand for this Mollia! You will be returning home immediately, and I am sickened by the mere thought that you would give to this situation. I am not allowing you to do this. I already lost your mother, and I refuse to let you go, too. There are other Opera Houses--both bigger and better--that you can sing at!"

Raoul's wrinkled face burned with anger, his breath, heavy and heaving from his old age. His blood pressure must have been through the roof, but Mollia pushed aside her fears of making it worse.

"Calm down Father, before I am forced to lose my last parent to a heart attack. Do you truly think that I want to spend my life with someone who is notorious for killing people and lurking in the shadows, watching everyone? I am not doing this for my own personal gain, Father, I am doing this so that this beautiful form of art and architecture will not go to waste. I will not be responsible for the fall of this opera house, and I will most definitely not stand for holding the hatred of so many hearts."

Her voice chilled. In all reality she was doing this for her own gain; she was going to do this for Erik. Just having the name echo in her mind brought the memories of his voice, sensuous and seductive. Her skin shivered as she thought of his leather gloves upon her skin, his deep breath lingering in her ear, warming her already burning flesh. His eyes, always filled with intense emotion, and the way that they dragged over her body as if they were looking upon her for the last time.

She shivered noticeably and covered it up by rubbing her arms. She watched as her father's eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes turned to the managers, not finding help in them.

They agreed with Mollia, wishing to save their own incomes. Mollia found it proper to cut in again, adding salt to her father's growing wound.

"I am old enough to decided for myself Father, and I will defy you if I must!" Her voice remained cold, her eyes aflame with the same stubbornness as her father's when he had fought so hard to free Christine.

Raoul sighed, using the only tactic he had left. If it didn't work, then all hope was lost for his only child. With tears sliding down his wrinkled face, he let out a small sob.

"I cannot bear to lose you to that beast Mollia... Christine is already gone, and I-I will surely die if I am forced to lose you to. I beg of you. Do not do this to me."

Mollia could see the pain etched in his face, each wrinkle representing a crack in his heart--his breaking heart which tore at her own with the ferocity of a starving tiger. She refused the tears that were on the verge of falling, as her hands found the shoulders of her father.

His skin was soft, his bones fragile and brittle. He was a skeleton underneath Mollia's petite hands, and whether she agreed with Erik and accepted, or disagreed and declined, no amount of love could help her already broken father.

"You will be fine, Father; as will I. I am stronger than most would assume, and if this man--and that is all he is--tries anything, he will see the true fury of a de Changy. I must do this, Papa, for the sake of this establishment and the art that is created within it every day. You must force yourself to understand my reasons."

She brought on her best poker face and left her crumbling father alone in that office with head hung.

The heart wrenching sobs echoed in her ears as she walked to her room, the managers flanking her.

"Are you positive that this is what you want to do, mademoiselle? We fully understand if you do not wish to do this. We might not be able to protect you once you are down there." They were worried, for their reputation, and Mollia made the best attempt at keeping the disgust from showing, but she couldn't repress the slight curl of her lip. He voice was as cold as it could be when she found the control to speak.

"If I were not sure of this, messieurs, than I would not have talked to my father in such a manner that would leave him nothing but a sobbing mass. When I am gone, I want you two to see to his health, as a personal favor, and ensure him that I am OK. I will send letters if I am allowed to, and I want you to bring them to him."

Mollia turned and looked at the two fools one last time before shutting her door in their faces. Her features contorted in pain and she allowed her listless body to slide down the door, releasing her soft sobs into the atmosphere of her bedroom.

Erik entered her bedroom, his face falling when she wasn't present. He recalled her soft smile and vibrant eyes looking at him with all of the love that he had never been given. That voice, sweeter than the angels' and stronger--no, better--than her mother's. He could picture her delicate hands as they touched his cheek gently, gliding wherever they pleased, the sweet and soothing words that she would whisper in the hollow of his ear.

He could feel his body heat rise and quickly contained his thoughts as the bedroom door opened and closed. There was his perfect angel, crying on the floor, her tears causing red blotches around her eyes. She sat against the mahogany door, not realizing that her angel watched her from the bed.

When she did look up, her eyes begged for Erik to go to her, but he stayed on the soft comforter, unable to figure out the reason for her tears.

"I do not know if I can do this Erik. My father," her voice cracked, "His heart cannot take this. I cannot lose my only parent--" Her words were cut short by a sob that shook her petite frame.

Erik stormed from the bed and pulled her up as if she were a child, his hands roughly planting themselves upon her shoulders.

"So you would rather lose your career and happiness to save someone who is already heart broken and decaying in a wheelchair? I thought you loved me Mollia, and I thought that you were doing this for me. Must I remind you that you were the one to come up with this plan, and you were the one who promised to pull through no matter what? Did you truly think that your father would be fine with this plan? Are you are going to go to him, and waste your life?"

He shook her for a moment and then left her to herself, his mind filled with rage and his heart filled with pain. He would not allow himself to get so soft again. He was already hurt enough by her mother, and she would not do the same.

Mollia watched him go in silence, hoping that his temper would be calmed by the time he came for her.

I have to do this, no matter what. I will not waste my life for my father, who has already given up his, she thought.

In under an hour she was packed, dragging her suitcase to the wings. She didn't expect that people would react the way they did. Throughout her whole walk, she received queer looks and whispers. The managers had opened up their fat and greedy mouths again.

The final straw was drawn when one woman yelled out a few choice words. Mollia stopped abruptly and turned, her voice hard and chilled.

"Am I not risking my safety and life for the sake of yours, Madame? I am doing this so that you can have a roof over your head, and food on your plate. So I would appreciate it if you showed me some respect." She didn't have to be rude to the Woman to get her point across. The woman muttered an apology and disappeared. Mollia walked away briskly, leaving her luggage in the wings. She had one person that she had to talk to. She had a couple questions about what to expect with Erik.

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