The night passed on as Erik cared and guarded his lost angel. He fed her, gave her drink, and sang to her. His voice seemed to calm her fears, and whenever she woke up in the night, his bittersweet lullabies lulled her back to sleep. He stayed by her side for the entire night. She was asleep at the moment, her chest rising and falling gently. Erik gazed at his angel for a few moments longer.
She is still the most beautiful woman on the planet, he thought tenderly. He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. He caressed her cheek, and his hand slid down her arm, and stopped at her stomach. He let his hand linger for a moment. His eyes closed, and he imagined if it were possible for him to create a normal child. Of course not, said the voice of hatred in his head. It WILL be a monster, a demon, and will live like a ghost…or more appropriately, a phantom…
He jerked his hand back, and rose to his feet in an instant. Dawn was approaching, and he must get some rest if he were to fix his broken angel. He sighed, and backed away from the room, never taking his eyes away from Christine.
He crossed to his writing desk in the den, and slid his mask off his face. Erik ran his fingers through his long, black hair, and his inner voices began to argue once more.
She's very sick.
Now, whose fault is that?
That boy's fault. He threw her to the streets-
Is that so? Or did she leave out of shame?
…
Yes, you ignorant beast, out of shame! Shame, because she knew the child wasn't Raoul's! Because she knew, THE CHILD IN HER WOMB WAS A HELLSPAWN!!!
"NOO!" He slammed his fists on the table, hurled his mask across the room, and dashed into the cold of the night.