As I approach home after disposing of the girl, I sense movement. I make my way carefully, skeptical that someone could have actually gotten past me. Oh, but I was distracted; I'd forgotten. I cannot allow myself to become careless, now that I've got Christine to protect.

I see more clearly now, just ahead. "Christine."

"Erik? Erik!" Her bare feet on the stone floor, coming closer. "Where were you?" She rushes into my arms, terrified.

"Christine, my Angel, what has Erik told you? You mustn't wander alone in the caverns, remember." I stroke her back through the thin nightdress. I have not held her like this in a long time. It is fortunate I used the girl, or it would be hard to be a good husband now, close as she is.

"I heard screaming!" she cries. "I'm afraid. Hold me, please."

I guide her back to bed. "No, my Love, it was a nightmare; nothing more. Come, you're trembling. Lie down, now; Erik's here."

"Where were you?" she cries.

"I was walking, Angel. I was restless and didn't want to disturb your slumber. So you see, I know there's nothing out there. You just had a fright."

"Of course I had a fright!" she scolds. "I told you not to leave me! How many times have I told you?"

"Here, don't cry. Ssshhh. I'm sorry." I drop my cape and kick off my shoes.

Christine will not release me even to let me undress. "Hold me."

"Yes. It's alright now, hm?" She nods against my chest. I stroke her back and hum, and soon she is peacefully asleep.

I slip my hand under her nightdress onto her hip and ease Christine onto her back. She whimpers but does not wake. I push her nightdress up. I know I should stop, but I only want to look at her. That girl was not beautiful; she was not my exquisite Christine. This, what I see before me now, is beautiful. I touch her, before I even realize that I am doing so. When she shifts, I snatch my hand away like a thief. Ashamed, I replace her nightdress, slip my arm around her waist and close my eyes.

-0-0-0-0-

Christine comes awake crying; another nightmare, I assure her. "Hush, Angel; Erik is here. Christine is safe." Again I stroke her back and sing.

"Erik," she murmurs. She pulls my horrible face close to hers. "Kiss me." More kisses; hesitant, tender, questioning, ardent. Yes; she does love me! My heart is about to burst. She presses against me and offers her throat to my lips. Her fragrance envelops me. I shudder when I feel her hands on my shoulders.

Suddenly, Christine starts and shrinks. Even her scent retreats. Her hands fly to my chest, pushing me away. "Stop," she orders. "No more."

But I am so cold, Christine. "Please, just let me hold you."

She turns away, drawing the covers over her ears. I close my eyes and review my behavior to learn how I offended her, but I cannot find my mistake. Finally, I decide it is safe to cry, so long as I do it silently and don't wake Christine.

-0-0-0-0-

In the morning after breakfast, Christine tells me that I must not sing to her anymore. I nod dumbly and wander to the piano in a daze. My hand lifts the pen of its own accord and I follow my thoughts, shapeless shadows in a moonlit alley. What is left for us if we no longer sing? As it is, Christine barely speaks to me. No touch; no song; I will be caged, deafened, with the sight of her alone to sustain me. But I am already starving now.

I did not tempt her last night; Christine tempted herself. What she cannot admit to herself, she blames me for. My head aches and my chest is tight; I see Christine and the nameless girl, their bodies pieced together in mirror shards. Through a barrage of discordant noise, Christine calls to me. Struggling to the surface of consciousness, I attend to her voice.

"…you done to it? It's filthy," she complains, holding out my rumpled cape. "You dropped everything on the floor in a mess last night!"

I fly at her, snatching the cape away. She cringes and falls to the ground. Fury and anguish mingle; can she really fear that I would harm her? "What do you care? It's nothing to you!" I snarl. I toss the ruined cape into the lake and escape into the catacombs.

-0-0-0-0-

As I wander my theater, I learn the girl's name: Therese. Some think she may have run away; others cannot imagine why she would do so. I hear no one mention the Opera Ghost. I watch the performance from the flies; after it, I realize that I have been gone all day. I know that Christine will be frantic, but I am still angry with her. I haven't been this angry in a long time. I return home and Christine is past crying. She is angry, too.

"Where have you been all day? How dare you leave me again?"

I brush past her silently.

"Did you hear me? Erik!"

"Christine, I want to go to bed."

"Why did you leave me all day?" she demands, furious.

"Why? WHY? Honestly, Christine, I believe you are madder than I."